We were quiet for a long time, neither one of us able to speak to the other. That morning, it was a regular day. We had breakfast, took Claire took to school together, and then spent the rest of the day in each other’s company.
But that dream was shattered when we lost Claire.
Now there was nothing but frost between us.
Constance was the first one to break the silence. “What’s the plan?” She gave a loud sniff before she wiped her nose with her wrist.
The words didn’t come to me.
“What did Bartholomew say?”
I stared at my hands clutched tightly together, my phone sitting on the table with a dark screen. I waited for it to ring, waited for the appointment to be made. “Baby.” I wanted my daughter back to the exclusion of everything else, so the choice was simple, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It didn’t make me feel less barbaric, less disloyal. I didn’t just have one girl—but two. And I was throwing one to the wolves to protect the other. “Forneus will return Claire…in exchange for you.”
The deep breaths stopped.
The silence was so profound it was as loud as a scream.
There was no point in holding back. It needed to be done—quick and painless. “I’ve agreed.” I forced myself to raise my chin and look her in the eye, to face this decision like a man.
Instead of being full of despair, her eyes relaxed, like this was the sign of hope she’d been looking for. “When?”
I hesitated because I’d expected a different reaction. “Tonight.”
She gave a firm nod as her hands clasped together. “Okay.”
Her participation didn’t make this better. Only worse. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be. As long as Claire is safe…I don’t care.”
The next breath I took hurt so fucking much. “He said if I try to get you back…he’ll kill Claire.”
She nodded, as if she was prepared for that. “I’ll be fine, Benton.” She turned to stone, her face expressionless, her body motionless. There were no tears. No sign of fear. She took her sentence like a man.
“I’m going to get you back.” My heart ached as I stared at her because she was my whole world, exactly as Claire was.
She slowly turned to regard me, her eyes pained. “You just said they would kill Claire if you tried—”
“How can they kill Claire if they’re all dead?”
“Benton, no.” She pivoted on the couch, so she faced me head on. “It’s not worth the risk. I don’t want you to do it.”
“Baby, I can’t just leave you there—”
“You’re going to because I’d rather die there than risk something happening to her. You know I’m right.”
I’d been through a lot of tough shit, like when Claire was taken from me for months and I had no idea where she was. But this was harder, being faced with this horrible decision. The longer I dragged it out, the longer Claire was locked up, and the harder it became for me to even think straight. It was like a hand had a grip on my heart, constricting so hard that it couldn’t beat.
“You know you can’t. I wouldn’t want you to.”
I dropped my gaze, feeling worthless in that moment.
Her hand reached for mine, and she squeezed it—comforting me when I should be comforting her. “I always knew I was on borrowed time. I always knew this freedom was short-lived. I always knew I would end up back there…”
I couldn’t look at her.
“But this time with you and Claire…has been the greatest time of my life.”
I lifted my chin and looked at her once more, and it hurt so fucking much.
“I’m grateful that I got to have it.”
My fingers squeezed hers back, feeling that gentle and steady pulse under my fingertips. I wanted to treasure what little time we had left. I wanted to take her into the bedroom and enjoy her before I had to let her go. But my heart was somewhere else. I couldn’t focus on anything knowing my daughter was unsafe, so I really couldn’t cherish these final moments with Constance at all. I wanted her to leave as soon as possible—as terrible as that sounded.
My phone rang on the table, and I answered it within the first second. “What’s happening?”
“He’s ready whenever you are.”
I couldn’t look at Constance. Just couldn’t do it.
Constance must have heard because she said, “We’re on our way.”
Bartholomew heard her. “I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”
Constance sat in the middle of the back seat with Bartholomew on the other side of her. Her gaze was straight ahead, bags under her eyes like she hadn’t slept in days when this nightmare had only gone on for a couple hours.
No one said anything.
Bartholomew kept his gaze out the side window like he wanted to give us whatever privacy he could spare.
I wanted to comfort Constance, but I couldn’t do that when I counted down the streets until we reached the Louvre. I wanted to burst out of the car and sprint the rest of the way just to get there faster. The streetlights lit the way, cars passing the opposite way of us. It wasn’t as late as it normally was when we’d met up, but I couldn’t wait that long.