The only difference was that he was not going to stop now. A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts.
“Enter.”
The door creaked open, and Rowan stepped inside. He looked unimpressed as he always did when Simon was in one of his obsessive spells.
“You look like hell,” Rowan said flatly, closing the door behind him.
“Where is the bloody report?” Simon snapped, slamming a hand down on his desk. He did not have the patience to keep up with vanity under these circumstances.
“It’s right in front of you.” Rowan leaned against the doorframe with an unimpressed look. For his part, Simon did not like to be reminded of how close he was to unraveling at the seams.
So, instead, he just picked it up immediately, eyes scanning the page.
“These were all the cases from that week,” Rowan said, stepping closer. “The same week your parents were murdered. You’ve been through them a hundred times. If there was something to find, don’t you think you would have found it by now?”
“There is something,” Simon insisted, rifling through the reports. “There has to be. You do not go through the trouble of orchestrating two murders and leave nothing behind.”
“And what if this trail has gone cold?”
“Then I will set the whole damn thing on fire until I find what I need.” Simon looked up sharply.
“You need to sleep.” Rowan studied him for a long moment.
“I need to find them.”
“And after that? After you’ve found them? What then?”
“I kill them.” Simon’s jaw clenched. He had long since abandoned any notion of mercy. He noticed his friend flinch slightly at the blunt admission, but to Simon, it was the only justice he could think worthy enough to avenge the death of his parents. At this point, it did not feel like a confession, nor did it feel like something that warranted a second thought.
“You know what that will make you.”
“A man who finally did what the law failed to do?”
“A man who will never go back home,” Rowan corrected quietly. “Because if you go through with this, if you kill the bastard with your own hands, you will never be able to live as a duke again. You will be a fugitive, a man outside the law.”
“I cannot go back,” he said. “Not before I make them pay.”
“And what of Rachel?” Rowan let out a quiet sigh, rubbing a hand down his face.“She is your wife,” he reminded him. “What happens to her if you disappear into the night with blood on your hands?”
Simon exhaled sharply, turning away. He did not want to think about Rachel, about her face when she had stood there, waiting for him, her eyes full of questions for which he had no answers.
She would be safer without him. That was what he told himself anyway. That was what he had to believe.
“I do not care about any of that,” he lied, his voice hollow.
“No?” Rowan’s brows lifted.
Simon’s grip tightened around the edge of the desk, his knuckles going white. His life had been shaped by vengeance, by the needto put an end to the nightmare that had started when he was a boy. But somewhere along the way, he had started caring more about keeping Rachel safe than about his own justice.
Andthatwas too big a distraction.
“I do not care,” he repeated, but the words rang false even to his own ears.
“You do, but you’re too damn stubborn to admit it,” Rowan muttered. “At least tell me what she said.”
“What?” Simon frowned.
“You know what I’m talking about.” Rowan shook his head. “When you left. What did she say?”
