Page 75 of Stormhold

Ian Smith was still a prisoner beneath this tower, and Heath Glen still hadn’t made a move.

His threat was still hanging in the air. It was all dead quiet, the bothersome kind. And not knowing what they wanted or who the traitor was made the feeling all the more vague. And vague wasn’t good when life and death were concerned. I heard from Arkane that Ian Smith was going mad by the day. So whatever Heath Glen was planning, he had to be fast before Ian Smith lost his sanity once and for all.

I knew the lack of development irked Arkane, but I wondered if that was all or if something else was bothering him. A man with as much power as him would’ve found a way to put an end to Heath Glen. Arkane knew he had a hand in his mother’s attack and that he was working with the traitor, and he dared to take over the Twins. So why hasn’t Arkane made a move yet? The delay seemed odd.

“Another romance?” His familiar deep voice soaked into my skin like a gentle caress.

“Hmm,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off the book, while my fingers kept sliding back and forth between the rough pages.

“Romeo and Juliet?” I could feel Arkane smiling at me as he asked. He did that a lot now. And it certainly wasn’t just him. I was guilty just the same.

I raised a brow, my eyes lifting to see him casually on the couch with his temple in his fist, his eyes all over me. Like, he would much rather watch me than the pink-orange sunset outside.

“I think it’s more a tragedy than romance, Ark.”

He smiled. He did that when I called him Ark. He wasn’t the only one who got to have nicknames. “Isn’t all love tragic anyway?”

“No, unless you want love to be a spectacle.”

“How so?” he asked, intrigue falling in his eyes.

“Tragedy tells a memorable tale to the spectator while the happily ever afters get swept under the rug of many.”

“But many memorable love stories that exist aren’t tragic.”

“True, but only those that give the spectator hope, and some might argue hope is yet another tragedy.”

He flicked a brow. “So all love is tragic, like I said.”

“You said love and not love stories,” I pointed out. “Real love is one that persists despite tragedy and hope, and sadly, that kind of love never gets written or spoken, only lived.”

“And you think something like that exists?”

“Love exists everywhere, but unconditional love, on the other hand, is rare.”

“And what would that be?” he asked with genuine curiosity that made me pause. He did that a lot too. Let me talk while he listened to my words like they were important. Like it mattered. Like I mattered.

I shrugged instead. “Anything new on Heath Glen?”

After my little phone incident, there were no electronics in sight. It was almost as if all his laptops and monitor screens vanished overnight. I didn’t comment on it, but I knew he did it for me. I didn’t want to be, but his gesture touched me.

“No,” he replied rather firmly. His eyes shifted to the windows, a somewhat dejected look in them. Only I had a feeling it wasn’t for the reason I was thinking. If not for finding and eliminating the men who hurt his family, I had no idea what else could be plaguing his mind. It was a side to Arkane that I think he hid well, but it sometimes slipped at moments like this. I soon came to learn that he was a master strategist who made every move with extreme caution and foresight to reach his ultimate goal. Almost as if he designed and constructed each second of his life with a purpose. I wondered what the purpose was for bringing me into his life. Sometimes that thought was frightening.

My eyes found him once again, and he looked lost in thought, staring mindlessly at the same spot on the window. I sighed, hugging my open book to my chest, and rolled my neck back on the seat. Closing my eyes, I did a mental rewind on everything we knew so far. The images flashed in my mind’s eye, and I swept over them.

There was one unanswered question in my head that I couldn’t seem to shake. And Arkane’s answer didn’t satisfy me enough.

Why did the five men attack both my family and Arkane’s almost thirteen years apart? Was there a connection? Yes, the men might have committed more random, unknown crimes, but they came at my family for a reason, just like how they came at Arkane’s and succeeded, no less, in their own city.

I didn’t recall anyone in my family ever mentioning anything about the Stormholds or Twin City. But my sisters and I somehow ending up here didn’t seem like a fluke. It might be a coincidence that the Valerian Organization placed us here to ensure our safety. But something told me there was a connection, and when I asked Arkane, he remained insistent that he knew nothing about it. How was that possible? Shouldn’t he know everything? But at that time, his father should’ve been the head of the family, so if anyone knew anything, it should be Victor Stormhold. And whatever he knew shouldn’t be good, considering the hostility he showed me the other day.

But the bigger question was why now? After thirteen years of a truce, why was the Covent testing it with this much urgency? First, the September 13th attack, then the Surmans, a failed Serb deal, and now Invictus? It was almost as if they were given a deadline and would fail if they didn’t reach it.

Deep in thought, my mind was racing when a sudden ping vibrating the air shook me out of it. It was Arkane’s phone. I soon came to learn that he had a specific tone reserved for his closest allies.

“It’s Karl,” Arkane muttered.

A tight line formed over his jaw as he read whatever message arrived on his phone.