Not death.
She was just a blank slate that would forever haunt me.
She hated me.
Not that I blamed her.
I hated her, too.
If it wasn’t for her dating Stanton, and for Stanton being involved in the FBI and playing stupid fucking games with a psychopath, my life would be a hell of a lot different.
I’d been in the military.
I’d served twelve years in the Navy.
I’d been a SEAL.
And I’d done my time.
I just wanted to get out and enjoy my life. Marry a woman. Have some babies. Just be free.
But my sister had gotten caught up in a mess, and I’d been forced to be a part of that broken operation.
In the end, the FBI had eventually broken in and rescued us.
But not soon enough to save Stanton.
Sonny Gibbons was in prison, where he would hopefully spend the rest of his life.
Funny thing was, I was, too.
And that was all because my sister had lied.
She’d wanted to punish me for shooting and killing Stanton, and the only way she could do that was to lie and tell them that I was a part of it. That I’d been more than happy to kill Stanton to save my own ass.
Which had been a lie.
But she knew that and still didn’t care.
In the end, I was serving a thirty-nine-year sentence for the murder of a federal agent.
By the time I was out of prison, I’d be old and gray and have no life ahead of me.
Not that I cared.
I had no life ahead of me as it was, even if I wasn’t locked up.
I just couldn’t live with who I’d had to become.
I’d loved Stanton. I’d loved Pippa and Stanton together. He’d been my best friend.
And I’d had to kill him, and I’d never be able to fucking forget.
One year later
The man looked at me like I’d grown a second head.
“What do you mean, you don’t want out?” Apollo, the man that’d come in here with the crazy thoughts, asked. “You’re in jail, and you didn’t do anything wrong!”
