Page 130 of Unveil

“No. Not me.” I shake my head. “Don’t do this for me. I won’t let you die for me. I’m not worth it.”

Her hand cradles the back of my head, and her lips graze my ear. “You’re worth everything, Orion Fury.”

“Hold your fire,” Bossie finally orders, irritated now. The weapons ease up, including the crossbow and gun lifting off my back. A fraction of adrenaline leaves me on a shaky breath.

Luna presses harder against me, tulle pooling over my lap and tied hands. I grip the bottom of her bodice where the tutu’s waistband overlaps it, pulling her closer even though every other fiber of my being wants to push her away. My wrists graze her garter as she breathes in my ear so softly only I can hear.

“Don’t forget how much you trust me, Fury.”

Of course I trust you, almost rolls off the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back.

I keep my expression the same, hoping the swelling and bruises hide my confusion as I try to piece together what she means. When she shifts her weight, tightening her thighs around me, her meaning becomes clear-cut.

Literally.

My brave girl isn’t just shielding me.

She’s arming me.

Wasting no time, my bound hands work nimbly over the garter strapped to her thigh to free the Fury knife from the makeshift lace and tulle holster. The Wildes made a mistake not frisking my reckless little wife.

Her real tears mix with big ol’ crocodile ones, spilling down her face and onto my shoulder as she plays the biggest role of her life. She exaggerates loud, racking sobs to camouflage my awkward movements underneath her tutu while I saw at the rope around my wrists.

“Lawd have mercy, child. Pull yourself together.” Bossie snaps her fingers. “Go on and go get her, Bart?—”

Click.

Sol’s gun cocks with a deadly finality as he aims it at the throne.

“If anyone lays a finger on my daughter, son, or Orion, I’ll paint this white church red.”

How he got another gun I have no idea, but the room falls silent. The men holding Nox back let the younger Bordeaux go.

Luna twists to look at her dad, but the sudden movement slips the knife from the rope, nicking her thigh. Her eyes flick to mine, and my heart stalls out at the pain I caused there. My girl’s quick, though, and disguises the whimper into another sob as she squeezes me tighter.

“Sorry, baby,” I murmur, aching with guilt, but I get back to cutting. I won’t let her sacrifice be for nothing.

Sol and Bossie keep up their verbal sparring, with Sol’s voice rising over the thunder, echoing through the small chapel. I can’t focus on them, though. Luna’s cut slicks my wrists, helping them slide free from my restraints. I love and hate that it’s always Luna’s blood that saves me.

Please let her be okay.

I keep moving, pooling the rope in my lap. Then slowly, so fucking slowly, I lift my hands out from under her tutu to move onto the restraints at my chest.

“Closer,” I breathe under her ear. “Almost done.”

With the tulle no longer providing cover, Luna cries louder and grips my shoulders, her arms now concealing what I’m doing.

“Mr. Bordeaux,” Bossie sighs. “It’s hardly necessary to make threats in the Lord’s house.”

“Isn’t that what this stunt is?” he seethes. “You’re threatening my family, the Troisgarde. Hell, I don’t even like you intimidating the Furys at this point. Not when my daughter’s involved…”

He rages on, spitting French curses and lighting into the stoic matriarch like a preacher in a fire-and-brimstone sermon. The words blur together, and all I hear is Luna crying. All I feel is her warmth against me. All I can focus on ismy wifeand the knife between us.

Sol’s tirade distracts every eye in the room, buying me time. I sever, twist, and pull until one of the ropes is frayed enough that it’ll give when the time is right to escape. Luna shudders against me, relief racking her body, but she doesn’t let go, keeping alive the illusion that I’m still bound. My heartbeat races against her chest as I grip the knife tightly.

“You know what, Bossie?” Sol snaps. “Before all this”—he gestures toward everything but me and Luna, ending at the pulpit Bossie reigns from—“I’d hoped you were the reasonable one in this feud. But I don’t think you and I are the type to see eye to eye with one another.”

Bossie settles back in her throne, smug. “Sure seems that way, don’t it?”