Caleb doesn’t protest. Instead, he watches me intently. He runs a hand through his hair. He squirms uncomfortably. And I hate him even more.
“You don’t get to do that, you know,” I say.
“Do what?”
“Be uncomfortable with what you’ve done to me. You made a decision. Own it.”
“I’m not uncomfortable with what I did.”
Then it must be my story. “You also don’t get to pretend you’re uncomfortable hearing about my past when you’re the reason I’m reliving it now.”
He lowers his eyes to the floor. “What’d they do to you?”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re all the same.” I glance at him. “You may not be the first, but don’t worry, it sounds like you’ll get to be the last.”
Any sign of pity disappears from his face. His jaw flexes. “So what? You think you’re absolved of wrongdoing?”
I return my focus to making another stitch.
Caleb crosses his arms defensively. “How many people have you killed?”
I freeze. There were plenty of reasons I didn’t like myself, but the guilt of taking people’s lives is the part I most struggled to carry. I don’t need him making me feel guiltier than I already do, and I don’t need to explain myself to him. He’s already decided who I am. So instead of explaining myself, I shrug like it doesn’tbother me. “However many you need to tell yourself to feel better about what you’re doing.”
“My father being one of them,” he bites out.
I swallow hard. In truth, his father’s death is the one that haunts me the most. Even though I could tell him that, it wouldn’t matter to him that I struggle to live with myself knowing what I’ve done. That sleep evades me and depression has cornered me since. It’s my burden to carry. And I understand why I did it, but understanding and accepting are two different things. If I’m struggling to accept it, how could he?
“If you knew I killed your father, why keep me alive? Why keep it a secret? Why patch me up?”
He says nothing.
I ask another question. “How long are you going to keep me down here?”
Caleb leans against the wall with his arms crossed. “You lack the understanding of what you’ve done because you don’t care about anyone but yourself. Just like the rest of them.”
“You don’t know anything about us,” I sneer. “To you, we’re nothing but savages.”
“You’re face-to-face with the son of the man you killed, and you have, yetto apologize. Come to think of it, you’re acting pretty nonchalant about it. Tell me: Does that not sound like a savage to you?”
“We both know you won’t accept it so why bother?”
“I wouldn’t accept it because you’re not actually sorry.” His jaw twitches. “But you will be.”
His words send chills down my spine.
Chapter TWELVE
Caleb
Jay pushes every wrong button. I’m not myself when I’m around her. I pride myself on my ability to keep calm and not let things get to me, but I have no such decorum around her. It was the lack of remorse on her face that did me in. She doesn’t care.
I haven’t seen her in a few days. It’s the longest I’ve gone without seeing her since I discovered she was my mate. My wolf is restless, howling at all hours and keeping me up at night. But after our last encounter, I needed distance. Any responsibilities relating to her I’ve reassigned to my guys for now. I’ve warned them that she bites.
For the last few days, I’ve buried myself in work, but the exhaustion isn’t helping my productivity. It’s also quite the task for an almost-alpha. I have to jump through hoops to accomplish anything because most tasks require my mother’s authorization. Unhelpfully, she’s been holed up in her room since my decision to take a chosen mate.
I’m asleep in my father’s office when the sound of the door slamming against the wall jolts me awake.
“There you are. I’ve been calling for you for the past ten minutes,” Tyler alerts.
