Page 91 of Guarded Knight

Anton lifts Cameron off the floor and heads to the door where two officers, one being the guy Penelope knows, read Cameron his rights.

I’m seeing spots… I feel like passing out.

Gabriel threads his fingers through my hair and cups my jaw with his hands. “Come back to me.”

I blink. Swallow. Anything to bring back that awareness of being here and not in some black hole where nothing makes sense.

“Firefly…”

I give a faint smile. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll find out who this is. I won’t let anything happen to you… I promise. We’re in this together. Me and you.”

I believe him.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I believe him too much. He’s woven into me.

And if this doesn’t kill me, loving him just might.

23

We droppedCameron off at the Echo Valley station just after ten. Lara gave her statement, while Callum, chief of police and a hell of a pal for assisting us out at the hut, handled the paperwork with the clipped tone he only uses at work. Freya came down, too. Lara insisted she not be left alone in the apartment, and I agreed, if not for her safety, then becauseCameron not being the culprit means I can’t rule anyone out yet. Not even her. Not even when her involvement is totally illogical.

But that’s where my head goes when it comes to Lara. All logic ceases to exist because all I want is to protect her peace.

It wasn’t until we got back to Monarch Hills that I finally started to breathe. There was no way in hell I was letting Lara stay in that apartment again now that we’re back at square one. When I suggested it, she didn’t even let out a peep of her usual defiance. That silence alone told me how much the night had shaken her.

Cameron is an absolute dickhead, but her instincts lined up. He’s not clever, more entitled than obsessed. A man who only came sniffing around for forgiveness once he learned she was sick, pretending at remorse because it made him feel like less of a monster.

That’s what makes me want to put my fist through a wall. His apology was never for her. It was for him, to soothe his ego, to cast himself as some reformed man in a story no one else was telling.

But Lara never gave it to him. She didn’t bend. She didn’t hand over her power. She refused to let him write his redemption on her back. She left him standing in his own filth, and Christ, I worship her for that.

Watching her draw that line—it’s strength so many wish they had. And every time she shows it, it pulls me deeper. I can’t even convince myself I don’t want to take her as mine. I’m so damn obsessed with her I’m past the point of air.

My nerves finally settle on an almost-normal frequency when we walk through the front door of the house.

Anton and I never call itours.I’m too conscious of how much he needs a landing pad to call itmyhouse, even though Santi did build it for me. And I’ve hardly ever claimed it. Like two men, we settle on simply calling it the house.

I’ve never felt fully comfortable here. To this day, I’ve done nothing to decorate, though Santi furnished it in my absence and, also in my absence, Anton bought a few pillows for the leather couches, and there’s something about multiple pairs of boots lined up by the door that makes any place feel cozy.

Lara’s curled on the couch, now in sweatpants and a t-shirt, beneath one of the old quilts my mom stitched back in Starlight Canyon. The fire throws shadows across her face, softening everything. Her lashes flick toward the flame and back again, like she’s trying to read a message inside it.

Freya’s on the couch next to her, hands pulled inside her chunky sweater, and she twists the excess fabric nervously. By now she knows everything, and her reaction to the story made me feel like I know nothing. She isn’t behaving at all like someone who would have let danger into Lara’s life, nor her own for that matter. She was relieved for Lara at first, and then, I saw the terror skate down her spine thinking someone worse was out there.

Suddenly, my gut churns thinking about this suspicion. Freya isn’t dissimilar from Lara. She got a second chance at life through a bone marrow transplant… who’s looking after her? Protecting her peace?

If she was actually playing around with someone who wants Lara, Freya was sure as hell over the moon about them both coming here. It doesn’t make sense to want to be somewhere with ultra-tight surveillance if you’re trying to pull a fast one.

The fire’s going out, so I top it up again, sticking the poker in to stoke the flames.

I get it roaring again and sit on the edge of the couch next to Lara. I want to touch her knee. Pull her into my chest. Something. But I settle for sitting close enough to feel her warmth.

“You really don’t want to eat?” I ask.

She shakes her head, blanket clutched tight around her shoulders. “No. Thank you…”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. I instantly stand, ready to launch myself in that direction, and Anton is just as fast to move, hand at his hip where his gun is in its holster.