“Raph.” His name sounded dangerous on her lips. “Tell me what’s going on.”
He did not look up. “Close the door.”
She did, then crossed the room in three swift strides. “Tell me.”
He could not answer. His throat was raw.
She watched him with deliberate quiet.
“Is Pamela all right?” he managed at last, the question scraping out of him like gravel.
“She’s fine… for now.”
“Where was she?”
“In the stables. She’s asleep now. Curled up like a wounded animal, but asleep.” Camelia’s voice shook. “She asked me why you decided to keep her in the dark about the man whose blood she carries. She thinks you’re ashamed of her, Raph. Do you understand that?”
Raph’s fingers curled into fists on the desk. “She is not to know?—”
“She already knows enough to feel hurt. She knows she is not yours by birth. She knows you flinch on her birthdays. She knows you will not speak the name of the man who sired her because he must have done something horrible.” Camelia’s eyes blazed. “Pamela thinks the truth is so monstrous that you would rather die than let her hear it from your lips.”
“Montague is the monstrous one in her story,” he snarled. “And tomorrow, I will finish what I started sixteen years ago.”
“What are you implying, Raph?”
“I will settle this matter once and for all.”
“Raph, don’t tell me you plan to?—”
“There’s only one way to get rid of leeches like Montague. It is something I should have succeeded at sixteen years ago.”
“No.” Camelia slammed her palm on the desk, and papers fluttered around them. “Tomorrow, you will sit Pamela down and tell her the truth with love, not with a pistol in your hand and blood on the ground. Because if you ride out to kill Montague, you’ll leave her with the same silence that is already breaking her heart.”
“She will never be safe while he breathes.”
“And she will never be whole while you keep lying to her!” Camelia snapped.
Raph remained silent as he handed the crumpled letter to her.
She raised a questionable brow but silently opened it and skimmed through it. He watched as her skin grew pale.
“This—this poison is exactly why the truth matters. He is using the very secret you swore to bury as a weapon against the child you claim to protect. Your silence gave him the blade, Raph.”
He flinched as if she had struck him. “Camelia, you have no idea what you’re saying.”
Camelia leaned in. Her body was trembling from exhaustion, and Raph ached to hold her against him.
“Tell her who her mother truly is. Tell her why you claimed her as your own. Tell her you love her more than your vengeance. Or else tomorrow, when you ride out to settle a sixteen-year-old score, you will leave her believing that the worst thing in the world is being born to a sleazy dead man, instead of believing that the best thing in the world is being claimed as yours.”
She handed the letter back to him and sat heavily in the chair opposite him.
“You aren’t seriously considering this, Raph.”
“I’m afraid that I am.”
“This is wrong. It’s all wrong.”
Raph sighed heavily. “Camelia, I have lost Pamela already.”
