His eyes shifted back and forth as he looked into mine, as if debating whether he should tell me. His arms crossed over his chest, the muscles becoming more pronounced. “I’m scared of her.”

My reaction was uncontrollable. Eyebrows spiked. A breath escaped my slightly parted lips. Unbridled surprise entered my features. Fender wasn’t scared of anyone—let alone a woman. “You think she’ll try to kill you?”

“No. If she wants to keep Magnus in her life, that’s not an option for her.”

“Then…I don’t understand.”

He stared at the ground for a moment before he looked at me. “This is exactly what will happen. She’ll talk in your ear. Poison your mind. Remind you of all the reasons you shouldn’t be with me. She’ll turn you against me—like she always does. Then you’ll leave me. That’s what fucking scares me.”

He was right on the money. That was exactly how that would go.

“I know what she says to you—even when I’m not in the room. I know she’ll never feel differently about me and what I do. We’ll always be at odds with each other. And you picked her once—you’ll do it again.”

His dark eyes bored into my gaze, impatient for a response.

“I did pick her once…and I was miserable.”

He sucked in a deep breath.

Those months had passed so quickly but so slowly at the same time. Even though Raven and I were free and had successfully liberated everyone from the camp, I’d had no reason to go on. There was no zest for life. My nights were sleepless. My heart was heavy. “But I won’t pick her again.”

His gaze turned stoic, like he didn’t believe that.

“Because I won’t have to. You’ll do the right thing.”

He closed his eyes and released a long, drawn-out breath. “Stop saying that shit—”

“You will.”

His skin started to flush red again, but his anger didn’t explode. “I won’t let you go again, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, you will.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You would never do that, Fender.”

“You underestimate me—”

“I could walk out the front gate right now, and you’d let me go.” I knew him better than he knew himself. I knew the real him—not this shadow.

His eyes drilled into my face, but he didn’t refute me.

“You’re forcing yourself to be something that you aren’t. Aren’t you tired?”

Silence.

“You’ve accomplished everything that you ever wanted. It’s over—”

“I will consider your request.” He dismissed the conversation by stepping away from me and moving into the sitting area. He opened a bottle of scotch, filled a glass, and then sat at the table to eat his dinner.

And that was the end of it.

Twenty-Two

Freedom

Fender