“So you own a two-level penthouse suite?” Jeez, how rich was this guy?
“Nope,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I own the whole building.”
“What? Seriously? You don’t even give off ‘rich guy’ vibes.” He wore the same clothes pretty much every day, stole Damyr’s cars, and I’d only really seen him living in the Morozov Mansion.
He shrugged carelessly. “It’s just money and I’m not an extravagant person. Bishop tries to spend it like it’s burning a hole in his pocket, but I invested wisely and now the money just makes itself. The only things I’ve indulged in are the things that make me happy.”
“Like knives and a private island?”
“Exactly. And I bought this place because it had space for Bishop when he eventually stopped running from me. I’ve lived here for years and when the whole building came up for sale, it meant I could control the sort of people who lived here too.”
That made sense and sounded very much like Byron.
He jumped onto one of the stools and pulled me to stand between his thighs. “So, the box.”
Byron slipped the small box out of his jacket pocket and placed it on the island next to us.
I swallowed hard as I took in the little wooden box. It was square, about the size of my hand and the height of my thumb. I dreaded to think what my father had left in it. “I know I need to look in it but… I… I’m scared of what he’s left there. I know that makes me sound like a coward, but I know it’s going to hurt. Whatever it is, my father wants me to suffer.”
Byron pressed a kiss to the top of my head, a gesture that was so sweet it made my heart race. “You’re not a coward, and you’re not on your own. I’m right here, baby.”
His words settled some of the darkness clinging to my soul. They bolstered me and helped me stand on my own two feet. My body might be trembling and ready to crumble, but Byron stood with me, holding my hand and holding me up.
I wasn’t alone.
I could do this.
“Okay,” I breathed and stretched a shaky hand to pop the lid of the thin box. I opened the small clasp and lifted the lid.
Set into a blue velvet cushion was a delicate necklace. A simple chain ending in a beautiful tear-shaped diamond. In the middle of the cushion, was a small scrap of paper and the ominous words, written in my father’s elegant hand:
Pick me up if you want to know what really happened to her.
“What does he mean?” Byron asked, his hand curling around my hip.
“The necklace belonged to my mother.”
Byron rested his chin on my shoulder, his lips pressing against the soft spot below my ear. Not sexually but just resting there. Like he knew I needed his touch to ground me. “Your mother?”
“Yeah, there was a large picture of her in the family home, and she had this necklace on. Dara would tell me it was her favourite. I don’t really remember much about her. She died giving birth to me. Or that’s what I’ve always been told.” Now, I was starting to doubt that.
I didn’t want to touch it. If my father had left this for me to find, he’d imprinted something on it. My ability to cycle through a person’s memories and their mind came from him. I was average at it at best. My father was an expert. Nothing like the Memory Wraith, but he could place a memory on an item, or manipulate a memory so that it was a twisted version of the truth. I knew he’d probably done it to me over the course of my childhood. I never knew for sure and he was never going to tell me that’s what he’d done, but if he was comfortable enough tokill me over and over again, then he’d probably been absolutely fine with manipulating a memory or two.
“He always said my mother was a healer, and that’s where I got my gift from, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Why?”
“Because how can I be a Shadow Witch? Where did that come from? My father definitely isn’t one, most of his magic is manipulative. My mother was a healer, and an enchantress, like Dara, but I’m neither of those things. All my power is tied to me and my lifeforce. It’s never been boosted by the elements or a coven but is that just a pre-cursor to having power over life and death? To being able to go beyond the veil?”
Hands cupped my jaw and Byron tugged my gaze away from the necklace and to him. “Wilder, it’s okay. Whatever the answer is, it will be okay. Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” The answer came easily this time. I did trust Byron. With my life, my heart. With everything.
“Then use me to ground you. I’m your tether, I won’t let you get lost in whatever your father has left on there.”
“Do you think that will work?” I still didn’t have any clue about what to do with a human tether. I was acting completely on instinct when it came to Byron and my magic.
He shrugged and dragged his hand down my arm to grab my hand. He placed my palm on his chest and I felt the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingers. “I don’t know. Why don’t you try to make a connection? Close your eyes and see what you can feel?”