A lump forms in my throat, and for several heartbeats I can’t move. Will I ever see her again? Is she going to be okay? What can I do to make this better? To make this night disappear? If Icould trade places with her, take the memory from her mind and carve it into my own, I would. I would carry it. I would carry all of it.
“Go. The elevator is moving. The cops are here.”
I leave the building, exit through the emergency stairs, and make my way to the ground floor before stepping out onto the street through a side door. I shove my hands into my pockets and quickly hail a taxi. I’ll go to Lucien’s. He’ll know what I should do.
My mind isn’t thinking clearly, and I don’t trust myself to make any sound decisions right at the moment. All I can see is Elio’s face under my fists. All I can hear is the crack of bone giving way. And the sick part? The part I don’t dare voice? It satisfies something dark in me—something my father would understand perfectly.
I get to Lucien’s, and he buzzes me up immediately. His eyes widen at the sight of my face, my hands, as I step into his apartment foyer. Briar gasps and quickly comes toward me, clasping my hand to bring me into the living room.
“What’s happened?” they both say at the same time.
I slump into the chair, holding my head in my hands. “I killed Elio Romero tonight. He was…” Goddamn it, how to voice such horror, the memory makes my stomach turn. “Dallen was late to dinner we were having with her parents. She wasn’t responding to texts or calls, so her father and I went to her office to check everything was okay. We found Elio there with her.” I pause, raising my eyes. They lock with Briar’s, and I can see hers are full of tears. “I don’t need to tell you what we found.”
Her torn blouse. The bruises already forming. The bite on her chest. The sound she made when she saw me—relief and devastation tangled together. I will hear that sound for the rest of my life.
“Fuck.” Lucien starts to pace.
Briar comes and sits beside me, places a comforting arm about my back. “Where is Dallen now?” she asks.
“With her father at the office. He called the police and ambulance. I imagine they’ll go to the hospital.”
“And you just left?” Lucien asks, his tone far from pleased. In fact, it borders on accusatory.
I glare at him, not in the mood for lectures. “No, I didn’t leave. The Chief of Police ordered me to go before the cops arrived. I wanted to stay. I know what I did, and I’ll face the consequences of it. Goddamn it, I’d do it again, but he ordered me. I don’t know why.”
And I hate that I obeyed. Every instinct screamed at me to stay, to stand over Romero’s body and own what I’d done. Let the world see what happens when someone touches what’s mine.
Lucien nods, clearly thinking of everything that could or could not happen from this point. “So we wait. The Chief obviously had his reasons for those orders.”
“I don’t know what they would be. He loathes me. To pin something like this on me, have front row seats to me expiring Elio’s life, is the perfect outcome to keep his daughter out of my hands.”
“You love her, don’t you?” Briar states, not a question, merely stating a fact.
“I do. When I saw her tonight, on the floor, I can’t tell you—the rage that erupted inside of me was beyond reason. Nothing, or anyone, could have changed how this night ended for Romero.” It isn’t just rage. It’s terror. The kind that strips you to bone and leaves nothing but instinct. I thought I was too late. I thought I’d lost her before I’d even had the chance to build a life with her.
“I’m glad he’s dead.” Briar hugs me tighter.
“You’re not helping, sweetheart,” Lucien states, throwing her a reassuring smile. “I’ll turn on the news, see if anything is beingreported while we wait to hear from Dallen’s father. I’m certain we will.”
The call comes latethe next day. I am ordered to Dallen’s parents’ house, and I arrive to find the place eerily quiet. I expect cops to come out from behind closed doors and arrest me. I welcome the charge. I don’t regret a thing, and I can’t be remorseful for removing another Romero from this world.
If prison is the price for keeping her alive, I will pay it. If exile is the cost, I will accept it. What I cannot accept is losing her because I wasn’t ruthless enough.
“She’s upstairs, first room on the left,” her father states when he lets me in. “I’ll be in my office. We need to talk before you leave.”
I nod and head upstairs, needing to see Dallen as much as I need air. The sight of her on a small lounge in her room, her legs tucked up beneath her, bruising over her face, her lips swollen, her jaw a horrible green and gray color?—
My loathing for Elio doubles, and I send up a prayer that I hope he is burning in hell. I should have made it slower. That thought flashes through me before I can stop it. I should have made him feel everything she felt. And that is how I know the darkness in me is not gone—just restrained.
“Dallen?” I knock, not wanting to startle her or come in without permission.
She jumps anyway, but thankfully, upon seeing me, she waves me into her room. “Hi,” she says, and my heart crumbles in my chest.
I sit beside her, not sure if I can hold her hand, reach for her, comfort her. I want to, the draw to touch her, to remind myself that she’s okay, she’s here, alive at least—but I don’t. She looks so fragile, so injured and sore. I can’t add to her pain.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else I can say to her. What can I say when it was because of me, because of my family, and our past that brought on this trauma for the one woman I love most in the world?
“I had a choice to leave this relationship, and I didn’t. It’s not your fault.”
