Page 98 of Guilty as Sin

“It was a test.” I hold up my palms, a sinking sensation in my gut.

She knows what it means that I armed the kid with blanks. I was going to have him killed to prove my point. It’s not something she’ll forgive. I go dizzy with that realization, nausea churning in my stomach. I could lose her over this. But it was all to protect her, in case her brother was a traitor.

“I thought he was working for Seven,” I say. “He had⁠—”

“You sent him into a firefight with fucking blanks!” She waves her blood-smeared knife at me. “You were trying to kill my brother.”

My wife stares me down. It’s the same look she gave me when I first saw her walking down the aisle. But in a bloodied T-shirt and jeans instead of a gorgeous white dress.

I don’t blink, and I don’t deny it.

“It was to protect you,” I say.

“Just like locking me up was to protect me?” There’s more murder in her eyes.

“Yes.” And I’d do it again.

It’s as if she heard the last part out loud. The murder in her eyes flickers out. Her face slackens. Suddenly I want her anger back, her violence back. Even if it’s directed at me. I can’t handle how she’s looking at me now. Like I’ve shattered every hope she’s ever kindled.

The tip of her knife quivers, still pointed in my direction. When she lowers it to her side, my heart sinks with it.

It’s a gesture of defeat.

Of her having given up.

“Cora,” I beg. “I love you. All I want is for you to be safe.”

“Fuck you, Brady,” she says quietly. She closes her knife, then tucks it into her pocket. There’s a cruel finality in the gesture. “You don’t know what love is.”

With her eyes hopelessly dull, she doesn’t look away from my face. She reaches for her Claddagh ring. I’m torn brutally apart by the simple motion of her slipping it from her finger.

Whatever was left of me drains away as my wife drops her hands to her sides. She doesn’t throw the ring at me. She just lets it fall from her fingers. It plinks twice on the tile, then clatters to a stop. A pin drop in our doomed silence.

She turns away, finished with me.

With a glance to her brother, she jerks her head for him to follow. He trots obediently behind her as she walks out of our home. I hear their footsteps down the stairwell, the foreign sound of Cora defeated.

She’s given up on us.

Chapter 46

Cora

Connor hurries down the stairs after me, and I make it a few more steps on my own before collapsing into his arms. I want to sob, but I’m too exhausted, too emotionally wrung out.

I married Brady O’Sullivan to save my brother’s life. Then Brady planned to murder my brother himself. My husband knows that I’d do anything to protect Connor. He knows I’ve literally killed someone to keep him safe—that’s how much I love my brother.

But my husband doesn’t know what love is.

Brady promised me he’d keep me involved in all aspects of life. Then he fucking locked me away, rather than trust me to protect myself, to protect him despite how many times I’ve done so.

My husband doesn’t know what trust is either.

I loved Brady O’Sullivan with all my heart and I trusted him with my life. But he’s not capable of reciprocating either of those feelings. He never deserved my love or trust in the first place.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Connor lies. “But we have to go now, Cora. The cops will be here any minute.” He holds me out at arm’s length and gives me a single, firm shake. “You can do this.”

I nod at him, and we continue down the stairwell. It’s the fact that Connor’s the one comforting me that gets me to move. He’s the one who narrowly avoided being murdered just now, he’s the one who needs my protection, not the other way around. Even so, I let him guide me with my hand on his shoulder, and he leads me down every fucking stair I just sprinted up.