Hour after hour.
Still he didn’t return.
I stared out the window, imploring him to appear.
I stroked my phone, willing a message to arrive.
I glanced at my door, begging him to enter.
But nothing.
Jethro was gone.
He’d committed to what had to be done.
And I feared I might never get him back.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jethro
DARKNESS.
It fell over the estate like the gown from death itself, trickling like oil into nooks and crannies, stealing light.
Every thickening shadow devoured a little of what’d happened—blotting out the day, the past, everything that’d led to this moment.
Time had passed, changing me as a person, as a man, as a son. Cut and I had visited purgatory together, and a small part of us hadn’t come back. I’d proven my point and won. And the saddest part was that the connection between us was the strongest it had ever been.
My heart wept for what I’d done. My muscles growled with tiredness. My entire body wanted to shut down.
Almost.
It’s almost time to rest.
Needing some fresh air, I left the barn and stumbled outside. Every sensory output was on fire. I’d never been so exposed or naked, drenched in the feelings of others.
The moment night chill caressed my face, I raised my eyes to the moon, gulping in purging breaths.
The atmosphere in the barn was too thick, too putrid. I couldn’t breathe properly after what I’d done.
Burying my face in my hands, I forced myself not to relive the whipping or clubbing or Cut’s tears and begs. I’d broken more than just his ankle. I’d broken his heart, his soul, his entire belief. I’d done everything I could to show Cut how blind he’d been toward his children and empire.
“Fuck.” The cuss fluttered to my feet like the autumn leaves, crunching beneath my boot. How could I have done what I did? How did I hurt my father over and over again? How did I draw his blood and break his bones?
I didn’t know the answer to that. But I was still standing, and my father finally understood.
It was over.
Rubbing my aching eyes, I swatted away my thoughts and took a deep breath. The moonlight cast my bloody hands in silver-chrome, turning the red black. Shoving the evidence of my crimes into my pockets, I strode through the forest, searching for the two men Kill had left to guard the woods.
It didn’t take me long. I followed the reek of cigarette smoke,encountering them on the border of the glen.
They turned to face me as I approached. Their hands curled by their sides and jackets bulky in the gloom.
I didn’t bother with niceties. I didn’t have the strength. “It’s done. You can go.”
The man with a mohawk nodded. “Right-o. See you around.”
