Free Rose of Jericho (Lilith Adams Series Book 2) by Jenny Allen Page A

was coming from Cohen and that was definitely less than comforting. Every step closer the “old” man got, the more Lilith felt like she was drowning. He stepped past the table and Lilith turned in her seat to watch him.
    Farren walked right up to the guard behind her and slowly wrapped his long fingers around the man’s gun, pulling it out of his holster. His dark eyes looked it over, considering it as if he’d never really seen one before. Lilith was certain that wasn’t the case. He was trying to decide exactly what he wanted to do with it.
    Farren, still inspecting every angle of the gun, wandered nonchalantly around the table. The knot of dread in the pit of Lilith’s stomach grew stronger and stronger with every footstep until Farren stopped, right in front of her. Lilith’s heart started beating like a wild animal in a cage as she stared at the gun balanced in his hand, unable to focus on anything else. Shit. She’d overplayed her hand, pushed a little too far.
    Finally Lilith tore her eyes away from the gun and they slowly rose as the knot of dread twisted and churned. Farren’s ancient eyes pierced through her, pinning her to the chair with their ferocity. Lilith couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, could barely even breathe. Her chest felt impossibly tight as the panic began to bubble up inside her.
    “Peisinoe. Retrieve our guest.” There was a snarling anger lurking under his otherwise calm words and it took Lilith a minute to realize what he was instructing his pet to do.
    A moment later, a strangled moan and the sound of shuffling feet ripped her attention away from Farren. Her father stumbled out of the side door with the siren behind him. Gregor’s face was an unrecognizable mass of bruises that brought tears to Lilith’s eyes. Blood coated his grey polo, charcoal slacks and even his dark grey speckled hair.
    The bombshell shoved him forward forcibly sending Gregor sprawling to his knees on the carpet with a sharp whimper of pain. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lilith remembered seeing her father as powerful and untouchable. He’d been her world, a pillar of goodness in the center of her life. In the past week she’d been proven wrong too many times to count. Now, her once regal father looked like a broken man who welcomed death as a release from the overwhelming guilt on his shoulders. It was enough to crack her heart in two as tears stung her eyes.
    A heavy sigh escaped Farren’s crooked lips. “Get him on his feet, chanteur d'âme .”
    Lilith gasped, heartbroken, as the banshee dug her nails into Gregor’s greying hair and hauled him to his feet like a rag doll. He coughed violently with a slight gurgling sound that may have been a punctured lung. Lilith wanted to run to him but Farren was still standing directly in front of her contemplating the gun in his hand. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Chance white-knuckling the chair, ready to spring but holding himself back. On her left, Cohen sat perfectly still with his head slumped forward.
    Gregor’s swollen eyes rolled around wildly in his head as if they were having trouble focusing. Finally they came to rest on her and tears immediately sprang to his sky grey eyes. “Lily?” His voice was rough and so faint that she couldn’t tell if he’d actually said her name or if she’d just imagined it. “Oh god, Lily, my girl. I’m so sorry.” Peisinoe tugged hard on his hair, pulling a yelp of pain from his lips but ultimately silencing him.
    “You’re right, Ms. Adams. There is something I want.” Farren’s voice sounded completely indifferent when he finally spoke again. Lilith wiped at the tears on her cheeks as she forced herself to look at Farren’s face. His entire expression was apathetic. He held no feelings one way or another about what he’d done or what he was about to do. Somehow that was even scarier than Ashcroft’s delirious mania.
    “Your father has confirmed it for me. However, you are the one I