Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(45)

they would have kept smiling at each other if Bria hadn’t cleared her throat.

“So what happened?” Bria asked. “If you were so happy, then why did you

leave Ashland?”

Everyone could hear the sharper, unasked question in her words. Why did you

leave Finn?

Deirdre winced, her shoulders slumping. “Fletcher and I were planning our

wedding when I found out I was pregnant. My parents were very traditional,

very old-fashioned, and more concerned with their magic, money, and social

status than anything else. They didn’t approve of Fletcher, said that he was

beneath my station. But they especially didn’t like the idea of my having his

baby. They were both very strong Ice elementals, you see, and I inherited

their magic. They wanted me to marry someone who also had Ice magic, to keep

our family legacy intact. Not someone like Fletcher, who didn’t have any

elemental power at all. Of course, I didn’t care about any of that, but when

I told my parents I was pregnant, they threw me out and cut me off

financially. They wouldn’t even speak to me.”

She paused and pinched the bridge of her nose, as if she were fighting back

tears. After a few seconds, she dropped her hand, cleared her throat, and

continued.

“But I loved Fletcher, and I was determined to be with him, despite my

parents. And we were happy, especially after you were born. See?”

She tapped her long red nail on the photo of Fletcher holding newborn Finn,

with her standing off to the side. I thought that Finn might say something

about how unhappy Deirdre looked in the photo, but he didn’t seem to notice

her flat expression. Or maybe it was just my bias against her that made me see

her that way.

“So what happened?” Bria asked again, a snide note creeping into her voice.

“If y’all were one big happy family?”

I raised my eyebrows at my sister, who was rarely that snarky. Bria didn’t

seem to like Deirdre any more than I did. She shrugged back at me, completely

unapologetic. Well, if she wanted to be the bad guy for a change, I wasn’t

going to stop her. More power to her.

Deirdre drew in a breath, as though the next part was particularly painful for

her to recall. “Fletcher worked a lot of late nights, but running a

restaurant means long hours, and I knew how devoted he was to the Pork Pit.

But one night, he came home covered in blood. And that wasn’t the worst part.

Some men stormed into the house after him.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“And I finally learned what Fletcher was really doing all those late nights.

That he was an assassin.”

She shuddered, as if the memory still horrified her. “He killed the men right

in front of me. Laid their throats open with his knives like it was nothing.

But not before one of them attacked me.”

Deirdre fell silent for several seconds, her gasps of breath coming quicker

and quicker, until she was almost panting for air, as though she was still

traumatized by what had happened. Even I might have believed that she was

genuinely upset, if not for Fletcher’s letter warning that every word out of

her mouth was a lie.

But Finn? He swallowed it hook, line, and sinker, leaning over and squeezing

her hand. Deirdre threaded her fingers through his, as if drawing comfort from

his touch. Once her breathing had returned to normal, she continued her story.

“After that, it was . . . hard for me to be with Fletcher. Of course, he

claimed that he would never hurt me, but I just couldn’t believe him. Not

after what I’d seen him do to those men. Even though I had been trained to

use my Ice magic to defend myself, I was afraid to even leave the house, for

fear that one of his enemies would be waiting to try to hurt me—or you, Finn.

That was my greatest worry.”

Finn nodded, his face as somber as a preacher’s on Sunday, as if her words

made perfect sense. I thought her story had more holes than a sack full of

doughnuts.

“Fletcher and I started fighting about him being an assassin,” Deirdre

continued. “I begged him to stop, to give up being the Tin Man, but he said

the work he was doing and the people he was helping were too important. I

asked him if they were more important than his own family. That started the

fighting all over again.”

She shook her head. “Finally, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I told

Fletcher that he had to choose—his family or being an assassin. And he chose

being an assassin.” She tightened her grip on Finn’s hand. “I’m so sorry,

Finnegan. Truly, I am. I wished that things had worked out between us. I

really did love your father at one time.”

“But why did Dad tell everyone you were dead?” Finn finally asked the big,

obvious, glaring question.

Deirdre sighed, let go of his hand, and leaned back, as if what she was about

to say was breaking her heart all over again. “I told him I was leaving him