Leather & Lark (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #2) (103)

A new wave of desperation floods the chambers of my heart. I search the perimeter of the door for a hidden release.

“Isn’t technology wondrous?” Abe says, pulling me from my efforts to think my way out of a steel box and a situation where I know I have no control. “I can program all of these ovens with an app. For example, I can set a simple timer to start baking in five minutes. Just like I can follow Rowan Kane’s car with an app and see that it’s on the road, driving in our direction on I-95. I can even use my phone to set a timer that will detonate the bomb I placed beneath his engine, all with the touch of a button. With one tap of my finger, I can press send on the pre-drafted email I wrote to the authorities, the one that contains damning evidence pointing to none other than Lachlan Kane as the man responsible for the murders of Stan Tremblay, and Cristian Covaci, and Kelly Ellis, and all the other serpents in that nest of snakes who have recently wound up dead. And then I just have to lock my phone, and you won’t be able to stop it from happening.”

I feel a choked sob bubbling in my chest. But before I fall apart, I hear a derisive laugh coming from somewhere beyond Abe. The tone is instantly familiar. Lachlan. I press my face to the glass and look to the left, but I can’t see him.

“A bomb?” He might try to sound skeptical, but there’s no mistaking the worried undertone in his voice. “I don’t believe you.”

“Have I proven myself incapable? I do have your wife here, after all. Taken from your very own home. I’ve watched you for months. Slipped right beneath your world to shape it. So, believe what you want to believe, but is it a risk you’re truly willing to take?”

There’s a pause, silence beyond the door.

“Your gun. Or they all die now.”

I hear the clank of metal as it falls on the floor.

“Smart decision. But the next one you can’t make with your head. You must make it with your heart.”

Abe crosses in front of my window, a gun in one hand, a phone in the other. He backs away slowly until he disappears from view, and the next thing I see is my husband.

Lachlan tries the handle but it doesn’t release for him either. “Lark—”

“It’s locked, I can’t get out,” I say, slapping the steel with my palms even though I know it won’t get me anywhere.

Lachlan makes a move toward where the control panel must be, but Abe warns him off with a threat and he refocuses on me. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, though his eyes fixate on the blood in my hair. He looks at me with the kind of terror that I never imagined he could possess.

“I’m okay,” I say, and though it might sound impossible, it’s true. There’s no lie in it, even though I’m terrified too. Maybe it’s because I already know what’s coming. I can see my path ahead, even in the dark.

But Lachlan, I know he’s not ready. He’s caught in a riptide, trying to swim his way free. He still tries the door, still glances at Abe as though there’s some other solution to get me out. And there’s so much pain in his eyes, so much distress in this man who I once believed could never be anything but callous, even cruel. I thought for so long that he was jagged and sharp. But in time, I saw the soft edges of old wounds. And now I see the broken shards of dwindling hope. Of impending loss.

I can barely see through my tears. The only thing I want is to embrace this man who stands right outside this door, and I can’t. This trap is designed so that I never will.

“It’s time to right the wrongs done to my brother.” Abe’s voice booms, rich with both menace and victory. “An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. You have one minute left. You can stop the timer to the oven and save your wife. Or you can stop the timer for the bomb and save your brother. But you cannot have both.”

Lachlan shakes his head. “No,” is all he says, a whisper I can see but can’t hear.

“Your wife, or your brother. Choose.”

Lachlan doesn’t break his gaze from me. Tears shine in his eyes.

This is meant to make us suffer. And the only thing I can do is try to lessen Lachlan’s pain.

“I love you, Lachlan. Let me do the choosing.” I press my hand to the glass. And then, loud enough that Abe can hear me above Lachlan’s anguished pleas, I say the two words that feel like a betrayal even though I know they’re the right decision. “Save Rowan.”

Lachlan cries out as I take a step back from the window. He hits the glass over and over until his knuckles bleed. He calls my name. “Stop the oven. Stop it now—”

Abe’s voice is clinical and detached in the periphery. “She made the choice for you. It’s done.”

I take another step back. Tears gather at my lashes as Lachlan desperately tries to break in. My shoulders square up even though they shake. I raise my chin and give him a smile so full of sorrow and apology and love and pain that my heart shatters when Lachlan’s eyes meet mine through the glass.

An alarm goes off.

“Lark, no—”

“Tell them I love them.”

“No, no, no. Stop the fucking oven, goddammit—”

“I love you, Lachlan. I’m sorry.”

It all happens so fast—just not fast enough.

There’s a sound of metal falling on concrete. A determined cry. A yell of frustration, then one of pain. A gunshot that echoes beyond my steel walls.