I was beginning to realize we weren’t a normal couple.
I was surprisingly okay with that. I wouldn’t want him any other way. I probably wouldn’t love him as fiercely as I did if he weren’t exactly the way he was. My very own King of Shadows.
“It confused the hell out of me. I knew if I hadn’t killed my father, I’d either die or end up like him. Neither of those were appealing to me.”
I linked my fingers through his, bringing his arms around my body and squeezing him tight, attempting to offer him the same comfort he provided me.
Comfort I doubted he’d experienced in his formative years.
“I was so fucking nervous,” he admitted with a pained laugh. “I knew I had one shot. If I missed, he’d kill me. But not right away. He’d make me go through one of his twisted games or tests. Force me to survive in the cold and elements with nothing but the clothes on my back.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, hating what he’d endured as a child. Sure, Victor put me through hell, but for your own father to care about your well-being so little as to put you in harm’s way? It was unconscionable.
“It’s been thirty years, but I still remember how damn hard my hands were shaking when I pointed that rifle at him. It felt so heavy, like my arms were ready to give out. I could barely get my finger to stay steady on the trigger.”
The room seemed to grow quieter and quieter as he spoke, his story echoing in the stillness.
“But then Spencer’s frozen body flashed before my eyes. My mother’s face that was unrecognizable with the bullet wound through her skull. And I knew I had no choice. Knew if I didn’t pull that trigger, I’d be next. So I took a deep breath and fired. The world went still. Including him. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Nothing. I thought I’d missed. It was probably only a matter of seconds, but it felt like a fucking eternity. Then he finally collapsed to the ground.”
I exhaled a long breath, physically feeling the relief Henry must have all those years ago. It was akin to the momentary relief I’d felt when I drove that knife into Victor’s chest and watched the life drain from his eyes.
“But because I was nervous, I’d missed my mark,” Henry continued. “Hit him in the stomach. Not an immediate kill shot. He’d die eventually without treatment. But it wasn’t an instant death. I could have done the humane thing, like he taught me to do whenever I shot game. But then I thought of Spencer. Thought of how much he must have suffered out in the cold. So I made him suffer. Refused to show him the mercy he never gave any of us.”
There was no pride in his tone. Or triumph.
Just the unvarnished truth of what he’d been forced to do.
“I sat beside him and watched him die. Even when he begged me to put him out of his misery, I refused. I didn’t make him die alone like Spencer did. Like my mom did. But throughout each excruciating minute as he pleaded for death, I did what he’d trained me to do. I showed him absolutely no emotion.”
I squeezed his hands, tugging his arms even tighter around me, unsure if it was to comfort him or myself.
“When it was over and I’d taken care of the body, I went back to the main house and threw up until there was nothing left. I must have showered at some point, too. I can’t be sure of much. I was in a bit of a fog. Like I was watching a movie of someone else’s life. Not my own.”
I nodded, knowing all too well what that was like. That was what it felt like when I carved into Victor’s skin before driving the knife through his heart. Like I wasn’t myself. Like I was watching someone else kill him.
“I don’t know when I finally snapped out of it,” he added. “Weeks probably.”
“Weeks?” I craned my head back to look at him.
“Maybe more. I don’t know. That time in my life is such a blur. But I do remember one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Something my social worker told me. That if I stayed locked up inside, he’d win. And I refused to let that bastard continue to control me even from his grave.” He lowered his lips to mine. “Just like I refuse to let Victor win. Refuse to let him control you from his grave. That’s why I need you to talk to me. Don’t shut me out. No matter what. Promise me.”
I turned fully in his arms and straddled him, the water shifting around us. I cupped his cheeks and searched his face, admiring the man who’d been forged in brutality and still somehow learned tenderness.
“I promise you. I won’t let him win. Won’t let him break me. Not anymore.”
He leaned his forehead against mine as he drew my body closer, exhaling a breath of relief.
For the first time in a long time, I felt like I finally belonged to myself again.
My mind was quiet.
The ghosts were gone.
And I could finally move on with my life.
