Not because his life had value. But because theirs did. Harper’s. My daughter’s. Everyone who loved me and would pay the price for my vengeance.
The primal protector in me screamed to finish this. To make sure he never touched her again. To be the monster he’d forced me to become.
But there was another voice now. Quieter. Steadier.
Harper’s voice, asking me not to.
My daughter’s voice, needing me to stay home.
My own voice, fourteen years older and finally wise enough to understand:
True strength wasn’t in the ability to take a life.
It was in the choice not to.
I looked at Harper. At the woman who had somehow seen past my worst moment to the man underneath. Who had believed I could be more than what I’d done.
She was watching me. Waiting. Not with fear, but with something that looked almost like faith. She believed I would make the right choice. And I realized, in that suspended moment, that I wanted to be the man she deserved.
My fingers loosened.
One by one.
Slowly.
I felt his pulse strengthen beneath my palms as oxygen flooded back into his system. Felt his chest expand with a desperate, rattling breath.
I could have tightened my grip again. Could have changed my mind. The window was still open.
But I didn’t.
I released him completely.
And as my hands lifted from his throat, I felt something else release too. Something I’d been carrying for fourteen years. A weight I hadn’t even realized was crushing me until it was gone.
The rage didn’t disappear. It was still there, coiled in my chest, demanding blood. But for the first time in my life, I was bigger than it.
I had made a different choice.
His chest rose with a gasping, rattling breath.
I rolled off him, my own chest heaving. Exhaustion crashed over me like a wave, and every muscle in my body screamed in protest.
A ghost of a touch. Harper’s hand, trembling and weak, brushing against my arm again.
She was shaking. Crying. Her fingers clutched at my shirt like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go.
“I’m here,” I whispered against her hair. “I’ve got you.”
“You didn’t kill him,” she rasped.
“No.” I pressed my lips to her temple. “You’re worth more than my revenge.”
In the distance, sirens wailed louder. Getting closer. Red and blue lights strobed through the trees at the end of the street.
The first squad car didn’t slow down so much as skid to a stop, tires screaming against asphalt. Then another. Then a fire truck, then an ambulance, all of them converging on the chaos like moths to a flame.
Doors flew open. Figures moved to the SUV, undoubtedly finding the bodies of the security guys. Voices barked orders I couldn’t quite make out.
