“I love you,” she whispered.
“Love you too,” Jeremy muttered, clearing his throat and shooting Garrett an embarrassed glance.
She stepped back. “You’d best go. Before one of the other Nighthawks realizes you’re missing.”
“I’ll fetch Jack,” he warned again. Perhaps not entirely fooled at all. Then he backed away, glanced up over the grim building, and spun toward the mouth of the alley.
She watched him go, her fingers curling into small fists. The rush of feeling was sweeping back into her now. The breaking point.
When she thought she had herself under control, she looked at Garrett. “Well?”
“An excellent performance.” He bowed his head slowly. “I’ll keep the Echelon off their trail.”
“Thank you.” Her mouth was dry. “You play a dangerous game.”
“I wasn’t entirely certain,” he admitted. “Whether you cared enough.”
“And now you know.”
Garrett scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Now I know. And so will he.”
She swallowed. She hadn’t thought of that. Lynch was going to be furious. “He’ll hate you for this.”
“I know.” Garrett offered her his arm. “That is my price to pay. I intended to present Mordecai to the Echelon but…I don’t think it will be enough. I’m sorry to ask this of you.”
“You don’t have to ask,” she replied. “Just tell him that I made the decision myself as soon as I heard. Tell him… Tell him that what I said last night… I meant every word.”
The prison cart was stuffed with straw, a biting wind creeping through every minute crack. Rosalind found herself shoved up into it ungracefully and spun to bare her teeth at Byrnes. He arched a cool brow at her, met Garrett’s challenging look, then turned and strode out of view.
“Sorry,” Garrett muttered, reaching up to help her to her feet. “He’s a cold bastard, but he looks on Lynch like a brother.”
Rosalind shrugged, sinking onto the narrow plank of wood that served as a seat. Slowly, she looked up and met the eyes of the man sitting opposite her. Mordecai shifted in his chains, squinting at her through a blackened eye. His gaze dropped to her unbound wrists. Not quite sure what she was doing here.
Garrett shut the door and the light faded. By the time the steam engine throbbed to life, her vision had adjusted enough to make out Mordecai’s grim expression.
“So we’re both dancin’ today.” He smiled, revealing a split lip. “Guess we’ll be findin’ out soon if that brother o’ yours is still alive.”
She didn’t bother to correct him. Instead, she curled her hands into her lap and looked down at them. Her stomach was a mess of nerves. The thought of being executed terrified her. For a moment she thought was going to be sick and shifted in her seat, unable to sit still. Her lungs seized.
Don’t think about it. Shove it all in that nice safe box where you don’t have to think about it.
Mordecai’s hot gaze drilled into the top of her head. “How’d they catch you?”
She didn’t particularly wish to speak to him, but at least it took her mind off what lay ahead. The prison cart lurched forward and she grabbed the seat. “I let my weaker emotions get the better of me.”
He laughed softly. “Emotions? You don’t got none. Most coldhearted bitch I e’er met.”
“I wish that were true.”
Silence. “So they got you an’ they got me. Who’s left? I assume none o’ me boys made it out o’ the opera alive?”
“Some,” she admitted. “The Nighthawks had the place surrounded however.”
He grunted. “And that brother o’ yours?”
She didn’t want to think of this either, for this meant she’d failed. There was a reason she’d led the cause and not Jack. “He and Ingrid are still unaccounted for by the Nighthawks.”
“Don’t mean shit,” he snorted. “Jack talks a treat, but I know he’s hidin’ somewhat beneath them clothes of his. He don’t lead no action, far as I saw.”
“He can’t,” she said. “His entire body was burned with acid.” By Balfour. When she’d chosen Nate over him. By the time she’d woken with a new hand and a fever, it had been too late. Balfour’s temper had cooled and he’d actually admitted some remorse over the action, but the damage had been done. “His skin’s too tight now. It hurts him to move quickly, though he can if he needs to.”
“You think he and that verwulfen bitch can ’old it together?”
Rosalind looked up. “I thought you hated them?”
A slow shrug. “Never liked you lot much. Still don’t. But ’ere we both sit. Ain’t no more o’ my mechs. We went at ’em ’ard—’arder than you e’er did—but the truth’s the truth. All the ’umanists left belonged to you and I ’ate the Echelon more than I e’er ’ated you.”
So many times she’d fought and argued with this man.
“We both made mistakes,” she admitted. “I should have included you and your brother in my schemes when you asked.” She took a deep breath. “I let pride and mistrust make my decisions, instead of thinking them through rationally.”
Interest flickered in his dark eyes. “That an apology?”
“The only one you’ll ever get,” she replied tartly.
A soft laugh. “And now you want me to admit I shouldn’t a gone against you? Bugger that.”
“I understand why you did.”
“All them years…” He shut his eyes and tilted his head back against the timber slats of the walls. “Locked in the enclaves, servin’ me time for a limb I never e’en wanted.” Bringing his iron fist up, he clenched it, staring at the shifting metal. “They said I owed ’em fifteen years for this. Fifteen years in that hell.” A harsh laugh. “Then you with your pretty promises. All I e’er wanted was some action. Some way to even the score. And you kept urgin’ us to wait, build yon fuckin’ metal army.” He spat to the side. “I worked metal for o’er ten years. What you wanted would ’ave taken at least another three. I couldn’t wait that long.”
“If you did, perhaps we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”
“Aye.” He rubbed at the bruise on his face absently, then winced. “Got a mean right ’ook, you do. Never seen you in action afore. You could ’ave done some damage.” Scraping his thumbnail against his mouth, he looked considering. “The Echelon, they want Mercury bad, don’t they?”
She nodded.
“Then answer me this; why you given ’er to ’em?”
The look in his eyes was surprisingly astute. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I saw the way that dandy ’anded you up in ’ere. Whatever you’re plannin’, ’e don’t like it none.” Narrowed eyes. “What are you plannin’?”
He thought this a ploy. Rosalind looked away. “I’m planning to give myself up in exchange for Lynch. They want Mercury, so I’ll give her to them.”
“What?” Mordecai looked incredulous, then a canny expression crossed his face, a smile. “Tole you a woman ought not be in charge. Them weaker emotions be the death o’ you.”
“I know.”
He shook his head. “A blue blood, eh. A bleedin’ Nighthawk.”
“The Nighthawk,” she corrected.
“Aye. And still a bleeder.”
“So I used to believe.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. “They’re not like the Echelon.”