Page 98 of Betrothed in Fury
Wrath directs his reply to Logan. “I got a call from Recourse. They’ve been trying to reach you, since you’re their contact.”
“Oh fuck,” Logan says. Our phones were on silent throughout the celebration.
“They realized Mom was gone about thirty minutes ago,” Wrath adds. “She killed a nurse and put her in the bed, knowing it would take security a while to notice. They think she could have gotten out a few hours ago.”
Terror grips me at the thought of Logan being in danger.
“Fucking hell,” Logan says. “I never should have told her about this.”
“This isn’t your fault,” Wrath insists.
“Yes, it is! It’s always my fault.”
It makes me consider what he shared with me about his father and his sense of obligation, and I hate being unable to take that feeling away from him.
“Let’s just work through this,” I say, resting my hand on his shoulder, hoping to remind him he’s not on his own in this. “Together.”
Logan’s expression eases up, assuring me he knows that regardless of this bullshit I’m grappling with, I’m here for him.
“Boss!” Jaime yells, grabbing my arm and prying me away from Logan.
A thundering sound fills the room, and then again, all too familiar—a gunshot, drawing my mind back to the day I held my blood-soaked father in my arms.
Jaime’s hand jerks away as he goes down at my side.
Spinning around, I discover a woman standing on the other side of the bed, wielding a gun. She’s in scrubs, but the eyes give her away, so similar to her son’s.
“Well, well, Old Terror.” Clara’s words embody her disdain as she addresses me as though I’m my father, in some sort of vicarious revenge through me.
There’s a stoicism about her that’s frightening as she stands there, her hair wild, with leaves poking through it that look like they came from the shrubs outside. The lengths she must’ve gone to…to escape Recourse, then make her way here and inside.
“Mom,” Logan says sternly. “Put down the gun. We’ll talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she says with the certain, confident tone of a Wilde. “I’m not letting some Lorde bastard take what’s mine. Not again.”
“What is she talking about?” Wrath asks.
Her gaze shifts between her sons. “You didn’t tell your brother?” she asks Logan, then turns to Wrath. “I tried to protect you from your father’s wicked betrayal all these years, but now I can’t. Old Terror and your father were having an affair behind my back. I found their love letters, confirming what I’d known all along. Don’t you see? That’s what started this whole mess. If he’d been loyal to me, I never would have slipped away from you. Surely, you know that, Wrath. Better than any of my babies.” She turns a menacing glare on me. “I thought I’d killed you all those years ago, but I was wrong.”
“What do you mean you thought you’d killed me?” I ask.
She offers a toothy grin. “You don’t remember when the Folcrums descended upon your family? I may have spent someyears in a fog, but Ian’s death brought me back. And being in Recourse meant it took more time than it might have, but I made some great connections in a place like that, who could whisper into their ears that the Lordes were plotting their destruction. It took so little to bring down Old Terror.”
Shedid it? She’s the reason my family was nearly annihilated? And now she’s fucking smiling about it?
Fury tears through me.
“I was so relieved to hear about your death,” she says. “I never expected you’d find a way to keep alive through your son. Just as Ian has done with Logan.”
It’s so strange, hearing her reveal truths while being in the throes of delusion.
“It’s okay, Wrath,” Clara says. “Your father was the monster, and he took you away from me once, but he won’t do it again.”
“Mom, put down the gun,” Wrath insists.
“My favorite child, and you betray me too?”
“You’re not well, Mom. We need to get you back to Recourse.”
