Page 169 of On Edge

I stare up at him, completely and utterly taken aback by the audacity of his turning up now. Acting like he was late to a dinner. Or a movie.

Not ourfuckingwedding.

“Where have you been?”

“I had to check something,”—he runs a hand through his hair—“look, it wasn’t supposed to be real.” It was only supposed to be until the deal was done. You don’t need to marry me for your father anymore.”

I stare at him, seeing his mouth move but not really hearing the words. Each cool look he gives, every excuse, is a thousand little cuts bleeding me to death. And what’s worse is, he’s right.

Except he took something last night that he can never give back.

That should count for something.

“Who is she?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

His body tenses. “She?”

“The woman with the blonde hair.” I can barely get the words out. “Mundel said he’d found her. I saw you go to her. I know you’ve been looking.” My voice is hoarse. “Is she—is she Nell?”

Silence.

Then his voice is firm, sure of itself, but I’m not really listening. “That wasn’t Nell. That was…someone I knew a very long time ago. Not Nell. Nell is gone.”

Of course, it wasn’t Nell.

Nell is dead.

Hope immediately suffocates and dies. He hasn’t told me who that woman is, but it doesn’t matter. She’s still the reason he didn’t come to the wedding; that hasn’t changed.

“You deserve answers.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. The paper is old and yellowed at the edges. “This belongs to you. You should have it.”

“What is it?” I don’t take it, I can only stare at it.

“A letter.” He pushes it into my hands, and it’s then that I notice his hands are cold and shaking ever so slightly, like mine. “Just read it. Please.”

“Troy.”

“The helicopter’s on the front lawn.” His tone is empty, his green eyes seem sorry for me. I might crack open at any moment. “You’re free to go, Sage. I won’t stop you.”

I can’t quite breathe.

“Wait—” I reach for him, but he’s already turning towards the door, walking away from me, leaving.No. “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand.”

He halts, but doesn’t turn around. He can’t look at me, and when he does, he won’t even meet my eyes. “I promised you a way out. This is me,keepingthat promise.”

His knuckles whiten, but he doesn’t touch me. It physically hurts that he doesn’t.

“The helicopter will take you wherever you want to go, away from your father. Away from—” He stops short and sighs. “I should go.”

But he doesn’t move. It makes me stupidly bold. “But the wedding?”

“It wasn’t real. You don’t have to be a pawn in this anymore.”

His eyes are dark, so dark as I stare into them. There’s a depth to them that reminds me of the lake when it’s filled with mossy rocks, jagged and dangerous to fall into.

“But last night, that’s not what you said.”

“Last night was a mistake. I never should have done that to you or said those things. What right have—” His words land likesharp knives. He drags his hand over his face. “You deserved better than that. Better than being dragged into Hell with me.”