My lips part on a reply that I can’t voice. Because I don’t know what to say. “I…” I blink, then swallow again. “I don’t…” The room spins a little. I try to shake it off, but that just makes it worse.
This isn’t… How?
Warren’s dead?
Is this some sort of sick joke? A test? A prank? With Warren, anything’s possible. He’s the most vile male of my acquaintance. Maybe he just wants to see how I’ll react to something tragic. That would explain Quinn’s familiarity with Grayson.
This is probably just an elaborate ruse to play with me. To give me a glimpse of hope. Because that’s the resounding feeling inside me—a hope that it’s true. A hope that all of this has finally come to an end. But what will that mean for me? Warren wouldn’t put me in his will. So if this is true—and that’s a big if—where does that leave me?
Something warm and soft covers my shoulders, causing me to flinch.
When did I sit down? How?
Officer Quinn kneels before me, his hands helping to draw the blanket tighter around my upper body, his expression one of concern.
What game is this?
What role am I meant to play?
The clearing of a throat has us both looking to the balcony, and my heart stops. Master Kaiden. He’s standing just inside the doors, his body clad with his usual expensive flair. Today’s suit is all-black. Fitting for death.
“She’s in shock,” Quinn says. “I’m not sure if it was the news or Gray’s manhandling in the foyer.”
Master Kaiden arches a solitary brow. “Grayson touched her?”
“Yes. He claimed to be the friend she needs right now.” The sardonic quality of Quinn’s voice isn’t lost on me.
This has to be a cruel joke of some kind, and I’m the punch line. I just don’t understand the purpose. Is this Warren’s way of relieving me of my duties? Is he going to send me back to the Elite Bride program? Can he even do that?
“I see.” Master Kaiden slips his hands into his pockets. “You can leave us, Quinn. I’ll take it from here.”
“Of course,” the officer replies, standing once more.
My brow furrows. Hadn’t he mentioned something about questions for me? But he’s gone before I can ask, leaving me wrapped up on the couch with Master Kaiden only a few feet away.
He takes Quinn’s place before me, squatting to stare up into my eyes.
His dark green irises swirl with intensity, his nearness causing the air to catch in my throat. However, unlike with Grayson, my lungs stop working for an entirely different reason.
Master Kaiden has always maintained this bizarre hold over me. All I want to do is kneel for him, to beg him to take me away from this hell and grant me a new reality. It’s frivolous and irrational. A fantasy I’ve clung to these last two years, since he met my gaze while I spoke the marriage vows meant for another man.
He claimed me in that moment.
Yet it was Warren who took me home, not Master Kaiden.
He holds my gaze for another moment, then stands to walk to the other side of the room. I watch him warily, waiting for the game to reveal itself. Yet all he does is retrieve a bottle of water from a fridge behind the bar then brings it back with a single-worded command of “Drink.”
I know better than to argue, so I do what he says, not stopping until the contents are gone. He takes the empty bottle from me and sets it on an end table, then settles beside me on the couch. His arm stretches out along the back, his fingertips brushing the blanket swathing my shoulders.
My eyes remain focused on the floor while my stomach rolls with hunger. I’m exhausted and depleted after going so long without food.
Warren didn’t allow me to eat dinner last night.
He stated I would live on the cum of his friends and nothing more.
I grimace, recalling the way they fed it to me from my—
“Camilla,” Master Kaiden says. “Look at me.”
It takes serious effort to comply, but denying his command isn’t an option. I meet his gaze, and my mind goes blank from the potency of his stare.
He’s mesmerizing.
Powerful.
Breathtaking.
My throat goes dry, his nearness intoxicating and overwhelming. I don’t know why he has this hold over me, but I thank him every day for it. Because it grounds me in my darkest moments and gives me a reason to survive.
Which is incredibly moronic.
And just a tad fanciful.
“The lawyers will be here soon with the requisite paperwork,” Master Kaiden says softly. “I’m going to have a lot to sign, as I’ve inherited everything my brother owned.” He cants his head to the side. “Do you understand what that means?”
“He’s dead,” I whisper, needing to say those two words again. Because that’s what he’s implying. And yet, I still don’t believe it. A car accident? Really? It seems too trivial, too easy. Warren has a garage of sporty automobiles, all of which he’s a master at driving. Wrecking one is so out of character for him.
“Yes.” He pulls a phone from his pocket while keeping his opposite arm stretched out along the couch behind me. His long finger swipes across the screen to reveal a photo of a bright red car wrapped around a tree. Then he shifts again to show Warren’s bloodied head and vacant eyes.
I study every inch of the image, even reach forward to enlarge it, needing to ensure that it’s real. If someone staged it, they did a brilliant job, because the man looks like my husband. “There’s bruising around his throat.”
“Yes, the seat belt strangled him,” he explains.
Something about that phrase lacks truth. I can’t say how or why I suspect that. Maybe it’s the glimmer I catch in Master Kaiden’s gaze. However, I choose not to question it.
He flips to another photo and then another, all of them showcasing my dead husband.
And all I can do is blink.
The proof of Warren’s death is
