Kelly Meade - Black Rook

“You had no right,” Father said, his voice sharp enough to slice iron.

Tears streaked her cheeks. “I know.”

“Yes, she did,” Knight said. Every head in the library turned to look at him. His rage had melted away into some odd mix of anxiety and exhaustion that made him look seven years old. He put his hands on the back of the sofa and leaned forward, eyes on Brynn. “She had every right. Brynn was protecting her family.”

“What family?” Rook asked. Brynn flinched away from him.

“Shay,” Knight said. “Shay is her half-sister. Right?”

Brynn nodded, her silent tears falling harder.

“Regardless,” his father said, “there’s no deal to be made here.”

“Shouldn’t that be my call?” Knight asked.

Father stood and turned around. “Son—”

“No, Dad. No. This is about me, and believe me, I understand what to expect if I go with Fiona.” He shook his head, limbs loose, too calm for Rook’s comfort. Rook stood up as Knight kept talking. “She’ll hold this town hostage and drive us insane with fear, never knowing who’s going to die next. She’ll pick people off and leave them in pieces as a warning until the entire run hates me for hiding behind them. I can’t live with that, not when I can save all of you. I’m just one man.”

“You’re not just one man.” Father strode around to the other side of the sofa and grabbed Knight by the shoulders. Made him face him. “You’re my son.”

Knight straightened his spine. He exuded a kind of peace Rook had never seen from Knight before, and Rook knew with heartbreaking clarity that his decision was made. “I’m very proud to be your son. You taught me so many things, including when to put others before myself. This is the right decision.”

Bishop stood up, horrified. “You’re going to go with her.”

“Yes.”

Rook sat back down hard enough to jar his teeth. This couldn’t really be happening.

“I could order you to not to go,” Father said, his voice rough. “I could lock you in a quarterly cage until this is sorted out another way.”

“You could.” He covered Father’s hands with his and squeezed. Knight’s gaze was clear, his voice strong. “But I know you won’t. You know this is the right thing to do, Alpha.”

Their father visibly shuddered, but he didn’t disagree. He released Knight and stepped back, observing his middle son for a long moment. “As a father, I want to forbid this. But as your Alpha”—he swallowed hard—“I know you’re right.”

Their gazes locked for a beat, and then Father looked away.

“You know the details?” Knight asked Brynn.

“Yes,” she said.

“When?”

“Midnight. I can only tell you where, though. I’ve already broken my word to Fiona by allowing everyone else to see the video.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

She blanched. “For what?”

“For bringing all of this information back to us. We know much more now than we did before, about a lot of things.”

“And everything stays in this room,” Father said. “Everything about the Magi, the hostiles, and about Knight. Any information that needs to be shared will be shared tomorrow.”

“So that’s it?” Bishop asked. “We’re just letting him do this? No alternatives or backup plans? Nothing?”

Knight turned to face him. “What do you want me to do? Wear a wire? Draw Fiona out into some kind of trap? She’s insane, Bishop. The instant she suspects something, the deal’s off and you’ll all be targets again.”

“How do you know she’ll keep her word about not attacking us? She didn’t when you traded yourself for Rook three days ago.”

Rook couldn’t see Knight’s face, but he could imagine the black look that must have been there, because Bishop backed down. Knight sacrificing himself had to be tearing Bishop up inside. He’d always felt responsible for them, ever since their mother died, and he couldn’t protect Knight this time.

“We’ll have people watching as best we can,” Father said. “If we see a chance to take out all four of the hostiles, we’ll take it. But only all four. If even one of them gets away, the deal is for nothing, because they’ll just come at us again.”

Bishop nodded. The Alpha had spoken, and the conversation was over.

A chorus of voices agreed and bodies shuffled out of the room. Rook remained rooted to his chair long after the others cleared out, too astonished by the sudden turn of events to even think about moving.

Knight had made the choice to go with Fiona, but that didn’t change the fact that Brynn brought that choice to him. Brynn had offered Rook’s brother up as a prize, something to be bartered for peace and for the protection of her newly discovered half-sister, Shay. Rook tried to see it from the outside, as an Alpha might. Tried to justify offering the freedom of one man to save hundreds of others. Intellectually, he understood the decision and the need to consider it as an option. Emotionally, he despised the notion of a trade. Despised the entire concept of the greater good, when it took his brother away from him.

But despite his hatred of Knight’s decision, Rook knew it was the best move. Father was right to allow it. Rook also knew, in his heart, that he couldn’t have made that call. Maybe Bishop could have, but not Rook. He could never make the sort of difficult decision an Alpha often had to make for the safety of the run—not if it meant hurting someone he cared about.

And that, he realized, was okay with him. His future was not as Cornerstone’s Alpha.

Brynn, though . . . intentionally or not, she’d hurt him. The look on her face when she admitted the truth about Fiona’s bargain still haunted him. She’d been terrified to tell them she’d offered up Knight, and not because she feared a violent response. She had to have known what the bargain would mean to Rook—that it would devastate him—and she’d still acted in the best interest of the run, even though doing so might mean losing Rook’s affections. She’d made an Alpha’s decision.

The Little Magus Who Could .

He couldn’t accept what she’d done, but he did respect the risk she’d taken and the strength she continued to show, even as her own world crumbled down around her.

Rook looked at the clock on the wall—almost noon. By this time tomorrow, both of their worlds would be a very different place. He had to forgive Brynn. He also had to find a way to say good-bye to his brother. The new chords of his life had to mix seamlessly into an old favorite song, and he only had twelve hours in which to do it.

Brynn had excused herself to the safety of her temporary bedroom with the intention of curling into a ball and sobbing herself into exhaustion. Once she was alone, however, her tears dried up and left a cold, hollow feeling in her chest. She couldn’t erase the memory of Rook’s face—the way he’d looked after she confessed to planting the trade idea in Fiona’s mind. He looked utterly betrayed, as though she’d gone out of her way to stab him in the back and twist the knife as deeply as it would go.

Her intentions had been the opposite. She’d wanted to save Rook and his run, save them so he had a chance to be their Alpha one day. The anger in his eyes when he looked at her destroyed any hope of him loving her the way she’d started to love him. He would always blame her for Knight leaving. They could never go back to where they were half an hour ago, when he still trusted her. Still smiled at her.

At midnight, she would deliver his brother to her sister, and their lives would be forever broken. She couldn’t stay here in Cornerstone, not if Rook blamed her. She fully expected McQueen to ask her to leave in the morning, once her task was complete. She would ensure the safety of the Cornerstone run, and then walk away.