The Marriage Contract(60)

“Just like the bruises.” His gaze fell to her throat, tracing the pattern that had long since faded away to nothingness.

“Teague, please.”

He seemed to be debating pushing her further. A small treacherous part of her almost welcomed it. The memory of Brendan’s death was like a festering wound inside her, poisoning everything around her. It would feel so good to share the burden.

But she couldn’t risk it.

She cared about Teague, but she wasn’t sure she could trust him—not with this. Because he was right in thinking that there was a good chance the identity of Brendan’s killer would put a stop to this entire mess. If she had a little less self-preservation and responsibility to her people, she might have even considered turning herself in on her own.

“You can trust me, Callie.”

Maybe. She knew he cared about her, but caring about someone he met a few short weeks ago and putting them before the family he so obviously loved, despite his issues with his father and older brother…Those were two very different things. She wanted to tell him. But she couldn’t risk it. “It’s that not simple.” Nothing was simple anymore.

“You’re going to be my wife.” Tension ran through every muscle of his body, though little of it showed up in his voice. “You’re safe with me.”

“I know.” In every way that counted—except this one. She couldn’t expect him to put her before his family, and the fact that she wasn’t sure he would was enough to keep her silent. She lifted her head. “I do feel safe with you, Teague. I haven’t felt safe in a long time. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

He stared, and she held her breath, hoping like hell that he couldn’t read every thought dancing across her face. “One day you will tell me.”

If she did, it would be the end of them. She was sure of it. Callie forced a small smile. “Yes.” She hoped he couldn’t tell she was lying through her teeth, because she didn’t want to fight. No, she wanted their reprieve back with a desire that bordered on desperation. So she kept going, words spilling out. “I promise. I’ll tell you one day.”

He didn’t look particularly happy to be put off, but he finally sighed. “I just want to keep you safe.”

An impossible need considering their current circumstances—Brendan aside—and they both knew it. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips and settled back against him. “I’m as safe as anyone can be in this world.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”





Teague woke up to find Callie gone. He rolled over, staring at the ceiling, not bothering to check the rest of the apartment. She wasn’t here. Their conversation last night had been enough to send her fleeing, and he wasn’t sure if he should be pissed or grateful that she’d waited until he was asleep to sneak out like a thief in the night.

He’d almost forgotten that she was keeping things from him, and he couldn’t face down a threat he couldn’t see. Whoever had put those bruises on her throat was a threat. There was more to it, something he couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing…but that might be paranoia talking. Their current situation was enough to create anxiety in even the calmest of people. It could very well be only that bringing the fear into her blue eyes.

But he didn’t think so.

It was obvious she wasn’t going to open up to him, so he had to try a different tactic. Time to bring in the big guns. He reached for his phone and typed out a quick text to his older sister. I’ll be home in twenty. Need to talk.

Her reply was almost instantaneous. I’ll be in the attic.

The attic? Was she hiding up there? Worry he didn’t have time for and couldn’t afford rose. He hadn’t forgotten the increased pressure their father had put on her to make her decision. It seemed like the lesser of the issues they were facing, but it wasn’t to Carrigan. He had no doubt that was the fear at the forefront of her mind at all times.

And he’d left her to deal with it alone.

He showered quickly and threw on a pair of jeans and a faded T-shirt. Since it was early on a Friday, there was some small hope that he wouldn’t run into his father—or older brother. Teague grabbed his keys, the weight in his chest only heavier with every second that passed. As much as he wanted to rage at Aiden and demand to know when the hell he’d gone and changed, he couldn’t do it. Aiden was as much a victim of their father as any of them were. If he had to become a modern version of the man himself to survive… Teague couldn’t hate him for that. He just wished it weren’t necessary.