Gage didn’t reply, but then he didn’t need to. The answer was obvious.
I felt sweat pooling between my shoulder blades. I could feel the unspoken pressure, the expectations. The chains of prophecy were relentlessly tightening their grip. The last few days played out over and over again in my mind. I was a pawn to it all—a pawn to a legacy I had no wish to be a part of. A surge of emotion threatened to consume me. That emotion was fear. A fissure cracked inside, and the dam finally burst. “This is too much,” I cried. “I don’t want any of this!”
I unclicked my seatbelt and surged to my feet. But I was halted by his hand on my wrist, the grip firm and bruising.
He yanked my face down to his, the sneer on his face livid. “You have no choice in the matter!” he spat. His gaze drifted over my face, lips twisting with distaste. “It’s hard to believe you’re of Nora’s stock. She had an inner steel in her—a fire that couldn’t burn out—but you, you’re nothing. Where is your will? Your sense of right and wrong?” He dropped my wrist and added softly, “You’re nothing more than a coward.”
I stared at him mutely. He was right—I was a coward. And if there were a chance to run, I would take it; running like a bat out of hell, not hesitating to look back.
The silence stretched, and I knew he was waiting. Waiting for me to say something. But I couldn’t. All I felt was numb. Drained beyond belief.
Gage growled, “I can’t force you to follow this path, Brydie. But you need to. If we are going to survive what’s coming, you must embrace it! Death comes swiftly to those who are ignorant. And in your case, it won’t be painless. Do you understand that if Talorgan succeeds, it’s not only your life that’s at stake?” His words were firm as he added in a hard voice, “You need to work out which side you’re on—the living or the dead.”
Every word was a blow as if a hammer struck my head. Fear rooted me, denying my willpower. I had nothing left, nothing to say. But most especially, I wanted space. Away from this man.
Without a word, I stood and looked around the cabin, searching for an escape. My gaze fell on a door at the rear of the plane, and I began to walk toward it. He didn’t stop me. The tears fell unchecked down the sides of my face, but I didn’t lift a hand to wipe them, he already thought me weak and worthless.
I reached the door, breath held, wondering if he’d really allow me the privacy. But as my fingers closed on the handle and I pulled back without resistance, I knew he was going to let me go.
I entered, swiftly shutting the door behind me. I was surprised to find the room was spacious, accommodating not only a small ensuite with shower, vanity, and toilet, but a double bed in the middle of the room. I walked over to the bed and sat down on it, focusing on my breathing. One breath in, one breath out.
Strangely enough, I’d learned the technique from Nora. After my parents had died, she noticed how my composure could shatter at the slightest trigger. The doctor advised that I was prone to panic attacks and prescribed me drugs, but Nora wouldn’t hear of it. She told the doctor we’d find other strategies to stop the attacks, and later that evening, she had taught me mindfulness. To seek the quiet in the eye of the storm. I used that technique to help me now, settling the panic that was beginning to overwhelm me, the reality of my situation settling in.
I was trapped. Tied to a legacy that I couldn’t outrun. Whether or not I chose to take this path, there was an immortal after my blood fulfilling a religious duty he vehemently strived to complete. I had only one person I could turn to, and I didn’t trust him, not in the way I trusted Chloe. But she was a million miles away, having the time of her life, and couldn’t be burdened with what I faced. Besides, I couldn’t risk her life.
Gage had given me an ultimatum—either I accepted my destiny, or I turned and ran from it. I couldn’t go back to Hamilton for Talorgan would find others to manipulate—people close to me, those I knew or worked with. Gage had made it quite clear that if I hid, I would forever be on the run, laying low, constantly looking over my shoulder.
I groaned, the sound tearing from my soul. My life had been a mess since Mom and Dad died. I’d lost everything three years ago. Then I lost the only family I had left when Nora returned to Scotland. Wasn’t that enough for someone to go through? Enough pain and loss? I felt like I’d floated through life since my parent’s deaths, not appreciating the day but moving forward all the same.
It hit me then. I had been living my life as if I was already in hiding, the only true light being my friendship with Chloe. This path before me was no different. Except that I had to travel it alone, without my friend. And whether I chose to make a stand or run and hide, either way, it was clear I was going to lose Chloe.
The thought stung with a viciousness that stopped my heart. I couldn’t lose her. She was my only anchor left in this world. But keeping her close will only put her in danger, whispered the cold voice of reason. A voice I couldn’t ignore.
My heart sank as I understood then that there was no choice to make—there was only one path available. The question was: did I have the courage to take it?
I pushed off the bed and walked into the bathroom, turning to stare at my reflection in the mirror. I wondered if the person who stared back had the courage to tackle what was to come. The face in that reflection was white to the bone, the eyes wide and haunted.
I didn’t see courage there—I saw fear.
So be it.
22
Brydie
We landed thirty minutes later.
When the plane had rolled to a stop, the pilot entered our compartment. He looked close to fifty and appeared confused and more than a little apprehensive, but he hid it well as he advised us that it was safe to disembark. I felt a familiar tingle at the back of my neck as I caught the movement of Gage’s fingers when he responded to the pilot, telling him to take a few days off before flying back home.
The pilot simply nodded without questioning Gage’s commands, before gesturing that we precede him out of the aircraft.
It was pitch-black outside; the airport quiet. We’d landed in the wee hours of the night. I clutched the handle of my suitcase as I navigated the steps down from the plane to the wet tarmac below. The wind whipped around my face, slicing into the thin material of my shirt and causing my unbound hair to flow behind me in the breeze. Shivering, I followed Gage silently into the airport terminal. From what I’d witnessed earlier on, complaining wouldn’t get me anywhere. It would only increase the degrading opinion that Gage had of me. It irked me that I should even care.
I sighed as soon as the glass doors closed behind us, embracing the warmth of the terminal.
As we waited in line for customs, I was taken off guard when Gage snaked an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, his fingers biting into my shoulder. Speechless, I looked questioningly up into his hard face.
He bent his head down, the movement appearing playful and affectionate, but his eyes told another story. “Play it cool, Brydie,” he whispered low into my ear. “Smile. We’re newly married, just returned from a romantic honeymoon in New Zealand.”
I was his wife? I swallowed, trying not to stumble as we shuffled forward in the queue.
“What about my passport?” I hissed.
“I have it covered.”
My eyes went wide, wondering how he’d managed that. What if it wasn’t accepted? Wasn’t that imprisonment? But going by the firm grip he had on my shoulder, I had no choice but to play along with the charade. Within moments we were at the immigration officer’s desk. I only hoped that I looked genuinely infatuated with the man at my side and not flummoxed by the reality of the last few days.