Chapter 7 - The Reckoning
The rain washed away the grime of the warehouse district, but the blood on their hands wouldn't disappear so easily.
Back in the secure study of the Barrington estate, the fire crackled warmly in the stone hearth, casting dancing orange shadows across the walls. Declan had patched a shallow graze on Liam’s shoulder, while Clara stood by the window, staring out at the rain-soaked gardens, her wet hair clinging to the back of her neck.
Mason walked into the room, holding two heavy crystal glasses filled with neat bourbon. He extended one toward her.
Clara turned, took the glass, but didn't drink. She just held it, letting the warmth of the crystal seep into her cold fingers.
“Your father’s safehouse in St. Louis was raided an hour ago,” Mason said quietly, leaning against the edge of the desk.
Clara looked up, her expression hardening. “Did Marcone get to him?”
“No,” Mason replied evenly. “My men got to him first. Warren is currently sitting in a private holding facility in Kentucky, waiting to answer a few questions about why he tried to feed his own daughter to a pack of wolves.”
Clara let out a long, shuddering breath, the last remnants of her rigid tension finally dissolving. She walked slowly over to the fireplace, holding her hands out toward the flames.
“I thought marrying you would be the end of my life,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the logs. “I thought I was just being traded from one master to another.”
Mason pushed off the desk and walked over to her. He stopped just inches away, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin, close enough to smell the rain and gunpowder still lingering in her hair.
“You aren't a possession, Clara,” Mason said, his voice deep and absolute. “You proved that tonight in the dark. You’re a Vale now. And in this family, we don't get traded. We conquer.”
Clara turned her head to look at him. The terror that had defined their first moments together in the hotel penthouse was entirely gone, replaced by something fierce, steady, and terrifyingly real.
May you like
She raised her glass, clinking it softly against his.
“To conquering, then,” she said.
