Page 67 of Irrevocably

“I’m sorry,” I say thickly. “I’m so sorry.”

Dad finally moves, coming over to me, taking my upper arms in his hands and gripping me gently but firmly. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for,” he says, a quiet ferocity in his voice. “Nothing, you hear me? I’m the one who needs to apologise. I’ve been a terrible father and I know it. I tried, Astrid, I tried. It was easier when you were small, when all you needed was the occasional hug and a bedtime story. A Band-Aid for your cuts. But when you got older, you needed more, you needed a mother and I … I didn’t know how to talk to a teenage girl. I didn’t know how to braid your hair, or talk to you about boys, or periods. Your mother should have been here and I was … angry about it.”

I look up at him and my heart aches and aches. “I thought you didn’t love me anymore.” My voice sounds so weak and pathetic. “I thought it was because Mom died and you were stuck with me, the kid who killed her. And I look like her and⁠—”

“Don’t you dare say that.” Dad gives me a little shake. “You didn’t kill her, Astrid. And I didn’t get stuck with you. You were a gift she gave me. You’re all I have of her. Yes, you look so much like her that it hurts sometimes, but it’s a good hurt.”

I can’t stop crying now, but he releases me then pulls me into a hug. He hasn’t hugged me for years and it only makes me cry harder, but at least he’s holding me, shushing me gently, the way he used to do when I was a child.

“Listen,” he says as I weep against his chest. “You should know that I haven’t just accepted the situation. All the times I’ve been out working, some of them have been about collecting information about the club and their operation. While they’re threatening you, I can’t do anything with it, but I’m still collecting it. One day it’ll take them down.”

I nod, trying to stop crying, even though my first thoughts are what they’ll do to Dad if the club finds out about this. But I assume that if they haven’t found out yet, Dad will make sure they never will.

You should tell him about Lucien. Warn him about what he’s going to do with the club.

Yes. I should. I have to. I can’t keep it a secret any longer, not after this.

“Dad,” I say, lifting my head. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

But I don’t get the chance to speak, because just as I’m about to go on, a splintering sound comes from the hallway, and seconds later, there’s a crash.

Dad lets me go immediately, turning for one of the little side tables, going to pull open the drawer. But then the room is suddenly full of men wearing black balaclavas and brandishing guns. And they’re all pointing them at me.

From somewhere else, a shot rings out as my father turns from the drawer with a gun in his hand. But it’s too late. One of the men grabs me by the arm and before I can speak something hard crashes over my head and everything turns black.

Chapter Thirty-Two

LUCIEN

I listen to the sound of Astrid’s car gradually getting fainter and fainter until it disappears. Good. She’s gone. That means I can carry on with my mission without her getting in my way.

Yet no matter how many times I tell myself that, there’s an ache somewhere inside me. Her, in the grass, with her hands brushing the wildflowers, the moonlight turning her hair pure silver. I knew she was trying to delay leaving, and I shouldn’t have indulged her. But I did. I allowed myself to have one last moment, lying in the grass, showing her the red star that used to fascinate me when I was a kid. All those homesick nights when I couldn’t sleep, and I’d go outside and look at the sky, count the stars.

Antares, the red star, the heart of the scorpion.

I used to go into Enzo’s library and he had actual hard-copy encyclopedias. A lot of what was in them was out of date, but I read them anyway, according to what I was interested in. I liked the idea of the scorpion and its red heart, all still and waiting to strike.

I don’t know what possessed me to tell her. Perhaps it was only that I wanted to give her another piece of me, something that she could take with her when she left. I shouldn’t have, though.

It feels as if I’ve been holding something beautiful and rare in my hands, only to lose my grip on it.

But it’s pointless thinking that. I can’t have anything rare and beautiful, that’s not possible yet. Perhaps once I’m free of Enzo, free of the world I was born into, it might be different. Then again, it’s only when you want nothing at all that you can be truly free. I can’t have that with her. I’ve already made choices I would never have made since I pulled her into my life, and even once I’m free of Enzo, I wouldn’t be free of her.

And that’s not what I want.

I want the freedom I was promised, and that’s all that should concern me.

I clean up the house, put out the fire, go outside and lock the front door. Then I stalk over to another shed, a bigger one down the back of the yard. Inside there’s a motorcycle. It’s for emergency transport, the keys on a nail beside the door.

Soon I’m on the road, the icy wind cutting through me, cutting away the warmth of Astrid’s touch, of her kiss, of her body. Cutting away all my vulnerabilities until I’m nothing but the weapon again. Cold. Emotionless. The way I was when I first approached her on the beach.

She doesn’t have a phone since I threw it out the window, so I’ll have to go to her house physically so she can talk to me about her father. It’s not ideal, seeing her again, but once she’s given me her information, I’ll leave once and for all.

I don’t have any other choice.

The street is quiet when I get there. Her Beetle is parked in the driveway, so she’s arrived home safely. I don’t allow myself to feel relief. Instead, I kick down the stand, wondering how she managed to deal with her enforcer friend, and whether I’ll now have the entire club on my tail.

It won’t matter. Soon there won’t be any club at all.