As the strength drained from my body—fast, merciless—the only thing I could see was Charlotte’s face. Frozen. Terrified.
Terrified for me.
I couldn’t leave her with that. So I selfishly forced the words out. The ones I hoped wouldn’t be my last.
Thank fuckthey weren’t.
If I’d died like that… if she’d had to carry that on top of everything else—God.
But the fear I felt before? It crashes back into me tenfold the moment consciousness claws its way back in.
Whispered venom hits my ears first.
“But you do have my eyes, Charlie. Glory never told me that.”
What follows is a deep, enraged growl of the woman I love.
My eyes drag open. Slow. Heavy.
The world swims before it finally sharpens into something I can understand.
Then I see him. Inside the fucking cell.
Hellfire. President of Hell’s Army.
Charlotte’s father.
Her fucking sperm donor.
He’s crouched in front of her like this is some casual conversation, fingers dragging through his overgrown beard. His gray hair is slicked back over an undercut, his whole appearance calculated chaos.
But Charlotte—she’s not the same girl who broke down a while ago.
She’s upright now with her back pressed against the bars separating the cells. Knees drawn up, both arms resting defiantly over them.
There’s no cowering. No fear on display.
Only fire.
I don’t know how long he’s been here. But I know one thing—she’s refusing to give him what he wants.
“Did Sandy never mention me?” he asks, faux-hurt lacing his tone.
Charlotte exhales sharply through her nose, nostrils flaring. No answer. Just disdain.
He clicks his tongue like he’s disappointed. “It would’ve been better if she told me I’d knocked her up,” he continues casually. “She was so desperate anyway. I’d ignored the woman all my life. And then there she was, the neglected Ol’ Lady of Savage.”
My jaw tightens.
“Hell,” he adds with a low chuckle, “I wish he hadn’t kept this from me for decades. Fuck. When Sandy tried to sell you to cover her debts, I shouldn’t have taken the trade. One look at you and I’d have known you were mine.”
Charlotte’s whole frame is shaking, but she remains silent.
“We could’ve had so much time together, my Charlotte.”
I swallow hard, forcing myself to stay still. Stay quiet. Don’t draw attention. Don’t give him a reason to look my way. Or give him any ammunition.
Because the second he does—I won’t be able to stop myself, and get us both killed.
