“We are leaving, Adairia.” She joined the other woman at the card table where she’d shifted her efforts to tidying up the chips scattered about. “We are leaving now.”
Adairia didn’t so much as look up. “I can’t—”
“You can, and we are. We are both leaving, and if Mr. Graham is as kindly and friendly as you claim he is, then he will, in fact, let you go. He’ll let the both of us go.”
“But there are men who are attempting to silence those of us who were lost so that they cannot be made to pay the price. Rand is attempting to lead the London streets in a different way. He’s not ruling with a ruthless intent the way Diggory did.”
Her stomach turned queasy. This was even worse than Julia had feared. There could be no reasoning with her friend, no swaying her to the truth of who Rand Graham, in fact, was as a person. “That is good,” Julia said in placating tones. “But he does not need you to do that.”
“She is right, Adairia. I don’t.”
They both looked to the doorway. At some point, Graham had returned with a stealth that spoke to the ease with which he’d no doubt cut down countless men before they’d been aware of what was coming. “The duchess can provide you the protection I have, and… this obviously wasn’t going to be forever.”
This wasn’t going to be forever. Those words had a thinly veiled double meaning, ones that certainly didn’t refer to the arrangement of Adairia being here, but something more.
Adairia’s lower lip quivered, and she caught that flesh between her teeth.
Julia at last saw through her own misery to the truth. There was no accounting for who the heart loved. She’d never had a right or place with a man like Harris, and she’d always known as much, but even so, even with his disdain toward her, she loved him still. She always would.
Julia slid closer and placed her hand in Adairia’s, lightly squeezing.
Adairia’s fingers squeezed hers, and she gave a shaky nod. “V-very well. I thank you for your… protection, Mr. Graham.”
He lifted his head in the slightest inclination that Julia would have missed had she not been watching the ruthless gang leader so very closely.
Graham stepped aside, opening the door for them to pass through, and hand in hand, she and Adairia started forward.
A quiet metallic click split the quiet, followed by another.
“She’s not going.”
The tall, slightly bearded guard who’d allowed Julia entry managed to train a gaze simultaneously upon Rand Graham, at whom he aimed a pistol, and Adairia.
Graham’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a fool, Lewis.”
Lewis chuckled. “Am I? I’m not the one with a gun trained on me, am I, Graham?”
“I knew you were too loyal to Diggory and his legacy,” Rand Graham said tersely.
The equally tall and equally scarred stranger smirked. “You let me in your fold anyway. And that is why you were never the heir apparent to Diggory. You, trying to punish the ones who protected him, trying to lead in a different way.” Lewis spat, the spittle landing on Graham’s immaculate, gleaming, black leather boots. “There was only one way. There is only one way. And if you think you’re taking down the men and women who faithfully served, then you are a damned fool. People pay to bury Diggory and their secr—”
With the alacrity of a cat, Graham moved. Kicking a leg up, he caught the other man’s left wrist, dislodging that gun.
And with that, everything happened in a blur, with time alternating between a dizzying slowness and a swift rapidity. Julia turned quickly, shielding Adairia just as another loud report echoed.
Julia’s entire body jolted as a sharp pain ripped through her, and then a surprising numbness followed on the heels of it.
A heavy thud behind her indicated one of the men had been felled.
“Adairia!” Rand Graham’s voice emerged harsh but strong, indicating he’d been the one to emerge triumphant.
Julia’s body sagged with relief. Or… weakness?
Adairia cried out.
Oh, God, no. She’d been too late. Once more, she’d failed to protect the woman who’d been her sister through the years. She’d come this close to saving her only to lose her here. A thick fog clouded Julia’s brain.
“You’re hurt,” she whispered to Adairia.
Except, wait, that hadn’t been her whispering. It’d been Adairia. Speaking to Julia.
Julia pressed a hand to her side, and her fingers came away slicked with a wetness. Blinking slowly, she glanced down at her palms. Not just a wetness.
A crimson wetness.
She slid to her knees, the floor rushing up quickly, the jolt to her knees a surprisingly more jarring pain than the numb place in her side.
A buzzing filled her ears, and as if from a distance, she was aware of Adairia wrapping an arm about her waist and weeping as she guided Julia down onto her back. Julia went because she was tired, and it was increasingly hard to focus.
“Adairia,” she whispered, her voice distant to her own ears.
A figure leaned over her. Only, it wasn’t Adairia’s precious visage. It was another’s.
Harris.
She’d conjured him. “You’re here,” she whispered. Her mouth moved, but her ears failed to detect even a threadbare hint of sound.
She briefly closed her eyes.
“Don’t close your eyes,” Harris demanded, his voice clear and sharp and as commanding as he’d always been. And angry. He was that, too. But then, he’d always been angry. He yanked off his jacket.
“You’re angry.” Her heart hurt.
Or was that her side?
She rather thought it was both. Either way, everything hurt.
“Furious,” he said. “Furious that you would put yourself in harm’s way.”
There came a tearing sound, of fabric ripping, and then he lifted her ever
