Page 111 of Burned

Blaze says, “Let them come.”

“Erin is here. Ryan, Cass—” Lucian stops short of saying her name. I feel it. She feels it more.

My throat tightens.

His eyes meet mine. They are terrible. Beautiful.

Ruined.

He has no idea how to navigate this without hurting me. I have no idea how to help him make it better.

For the moment, I lean into him, putting a hand on his thigh with comforting pressure.

“You need to hear the rest.” Rafe touches the tablet, bringing up an image. “The relay matches old Bachman signal architecture. Not current. Older. Buried.

Someone created the access using old skills and tools.”

Lucian goes very still. Blaze straightens.

Gregory looks between them. “Old systems are rarely used,” he says carefully.

“They’re usually just embarrassing. Or catastrophic. Depending on the family.”

“Marina,” I say. “You said she worked with your earlier communication. Is Carlos using your own pre-tech against us?”

“He might be, Erin. The line looks like old Bachman tech, which could mean Marina is helping Carlos, or it might not.”

Lucian’s gaze snaps to mine. His jaw locks for a moment. Then, he says, “No one outside the family knew about this place, exceptpossibly Marina. There’s an outside chance she may have seen some of the bills paid to the designer.”

“Possibly,” Rafe says.

“Meaning?” Cass asks.

“Meaning,” Blaze says, voice flat now, “the bastard did not need to get through the guards. He needed a wire and a ghost key.”

“But the line is gone, it’s cleared now,” Rafe says, attempting to elicit comfort, “and there’s no more secure location for us to be at right now.”

Cass looks deathly pale. Ryan has fallen asleep against Cass. I’m about to tell Lucian I’m going to check in on her when Mack leans down, whispering in her ear what I assume is ‘your room is ready.’ She whispers, “Thank god.”

I half-expect Lucian to stop them and tell us we’re all sleeping in the war room, but I’m relieved when Mack grabs the handles at the back of her wheelchair to move her.

Cass blows me a kiss as she goes. She holds Ryan in her lap, and Mack wheels them down to their room, not giving us a backward glance.

As they go, I realize why Lucian has never replaced her chair with fancy Bachman automated tech. He wants her to need Mack. Just another excuse to have a guard on her, like he’s on me.

Cass gets tired; Mack takes the reins.

Gregory watches them leave as well. He looks torn between going to bed with the civilians and playing mafia boss.

Someone quietly escorts Isobel to her room, and it’s my turn to give thanks. My shoulder relaxes with her out of the room. No longer watching us and reacting to every move Lucian makes.

It hits me; this must be how he feels every time I’m in the room—looking at me, gauging my reactions, reading my emotions after every statement made.

It’s exhausting. How can he think straight?

I need to do more to help him, to ease his mind. But the only solution in his eyes is to remove myself from everything completely. To stay helplessly locked in that tower and wait for my prince to rescue me.

There has to be a better answer for both of us. Now, I move my hand to the back of his neck, massaging his warm, tense skin to ease the tension in his muscles.