Chapter 294. Difficult Conversations

Chapter 294: 294. Difficult Conversations

Maisie

Jericho’s lips curled with disgust and he dropped him instantly. His eyes swung to mine. He looked pissed. "Gruer? Philip Gruer? The fucking fugitive?"

He was angrier than I’d seen him in a long time. Maybe afraid, too.

Soren looked too disturbed to speak. Quinlan was staring closely at Gruer with a dark expression in his eyes. "I know you," he said quietly.

I felt the familiar air of violence sink into the atmosphere. Someone was about to die.

Gruer, oblivious to the way he was being watched like prey straightened, brushing off his tailored Armani suit. "I suppose I’ll have to try better at breaking the ice next time." He flashed me a mischievous smile. "You taste delicious, though."

That did it. For Jericho, at least.

He lunged for Gruer and the latter vanished, only to reappear in front of Soren, holding up a couple of papers. "You seem the more rational of the three."

He shoved them against Soren’s chest and stretched languidly. "Shifting shapes takes a toll. I’ll be out for a few days. It is in your best interest that I receive payment for my services before then. It’d be just as easy to sneak in, take your shape and fuck your wife, you know? I bet I could do it better."

Soren’s fangs extended, his hand darting out to tear Gruer’s heart from his chest--

Gruer vanished again, reappearing right behind Quinlan. "Or your sweet Julie," he crooned darkly.

And then, he was gone, leaving me with three furious men who woule get the answers they wanted from me one way or the other. Right now.

****

"You want to explain what the hell that was?" Soren asked the second the door of us study slammed shut behind us. "How long have you been buddied up with that... thing? Do you have any idea what he’s capable of?"

It felt like a lecture. I didn’t like that very much and it made me feel less inclined to explain myself. "I’ve known him for a year. He’s never hurt me before and he won’t start now. He’s a... friend."

"A friend?" Quinlan laughed sarcastically, pacing left and right. "Do you have any idea why he was really locked up in that facility, Maisie? Attempted murder? Insanity? Think again. On a much larger scale. I’m talking a fucking massacre." He drew to a pause. "You’ve known him for a year? That would mean... after his escape?"

I stubbornly refused to speak. "Is this about what he is or the fact that he kissed me?"

Three of them paused and growled inwardly.

Soren ran his fingers through his hair, tousling the dark tresses, and then he tried for a much calmer tone. "We understand that you might need some time. And we plan to give you as much as you need to get better. We also understand that you’ve given so much and owe us nothing. But how do we help you if you can’t be honest about the littlest things?"

The study fell silent. And stayed silent. Which only meant everyone was onboard with what was being said.

And that filled me with the overwhelming need to defend myself from an unspoken accusation.

"I wasn’t aware I could be honest with a death sentence hanging over the heads of everyone I cared about," I retorted.

It was Jericho’s turn to speak and his jaw clenched. His voice, though, remained soft, like he was talking to some hormonal teenager he was expecting to flip out. "You have been holding back truths far longer than your disappearance."

"I tried to talk to you! I was honest and you called a psychiatrist on me! Being honest got me nowhere! You didn’t believe me! Blamed it on the booze! Acted like I was insane! What else was I supposed to do?! Bring you down to the library and summon a demon in front of you?!"

Jericho, Quinlan and Soren exchanged bewildered looks. "You can do that, too? Fuck, you’re amazing--" The latter shook his head, like he had gotten sidetracked. "We weren’t even aware that was an option, but yes. You could’ve done that--"

I stood. "And then what?! What would you have done? What could any of you have done?!"

"Something," Quinlan snapped. "We could’ve at least tried to prevent any of this from happening."

I opened my mouth and closed it. "So what?" I stammered. My voice was tiny. "All of this was my fault?" 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

Jericho stepped forward gingerly, like I was going to rip out his tongue if he came too close. "That’s not what Quinn meant. What he’s trying to say is, we made a mistake. We should’ve listened. And we’re willing to now. If you could just trust us enough to... let us back in."

My chest rose and fell too fast. I knew what the truth was. Lie after lie, lying to stay alive, lying to keep the people I loved alive, lying to make the world a better place... it had changed me into a jittery, jumpy, lying person.

I knew deep down that I could trust them, but my default was to protect, protect, protect, even when there was no imminent danger.

And this fight was happening for the same reason. I couldn’t let them in, not because I didn’t want to. I just didn’t know how to anymore.

And the mere thought that I could’ve prevented Lyon’s death by speaking to someone threw me off balance. I had tried, hadn’t I? They just didn’t understand. But they couldn’t really understand me. No one could.

"Even if I spelled it out in English, french, Latin, Russian, you still wouldn’t understand it--"

"Then help us understand," Soren said, frustration lining his eyes.

"Being with me is dangerous, okay?!" I yelled, tears brimming in my eyes. "Being my mates will get you killed. One day, someone will be dumb enough to try open that rift. Only I can open and close it. There is a cost, and the Goddess will not always be kind. One day, it will be me or you four. And that day, I may not even get the chance to choose myself. This power I have is like a bomb waiting for even the tiniest trigger to make it explode, and it wouldn’t matter how far I try to go, it’ll take you all down with me. I am not good for you."

Soren took a step forward, "And if it never comes to that?"

My lips pressed firm. "And if it doesn’t, if by chance, I don’t get you killed, you’ll be stuck with a barren woman who can’t even give you an heir."

I hated the words as soon as I said them, hated the deafening silence that followed.

Their faces slackened and I felt the shift in their bodies. Soren’s brows drew together, his lips parting as if to say something but no sound came. His eyes was so raw, so heartbreakingly open, so sorry, I looked away sharply.

Only to find the exact same expression on Jericho and Quinlan’s faces.

"It doesn’t matter," Jericho said, and a bitter laugh escaped me.

"Don’t be silly, Jericho," I said, pressing the heels of my palms to my eyes tiredly. I couldn’t stand the softness in his voice. Hated the way they were looking at me like it truly didn’t. What a pleasant lie that would’ve been. "It does matter. It should matter."

"Why the hell should it?" Soren’s voice rose, not in frustration this time, but desperation leaked into his words. "We have each other. That’s enough."

I bit the inside of my cheek until I drew blood. "I think you want a family. You’ve always wanted one. Because you were robbed of yours. You found Mercer. Jericho. Quinlan. Me. Because you wanted that. I know what having a child means. To each of you. You’ll tell yourselves it doesn’t matter. Give it a decade and you’ll begin to want it, too. Another and you will come to resent me for it. And what will you do when your court begins to demand an heir? A continuation of your lineages? Will you simply ignore their wishes?"