Page 84 of Hellebore

I walk down the corridor to my office, leaving the door half open. The monitors flicker to life as I enter. One screen shows the front gate, another the hallway leading here, and the largest displays her curled form beneath the blankets. The secondary set of feeds shows her old apartment, still quiet, untouched.

I open my computer and begin to dig.

Archibald Linden. Let us see what rot hides in your closet.

On the surface there is nothing, as expected. He works for a finance firm now. Once owned his own company, but declared bankruptcy six years ago. He had been drowning in debt when he forced Briar out of her dorm and into that cheap studio. He had been on the verge of losing the family house to the IRS. The bastard had even collected half of his wife’s life insurance.

But then, barely a year later, the money appeared again. I pull up the bank statements and find it, a single massive transfer of two million dollars, routed not to his main account but to one in the Bahamas. Paid by a shell company that dissolved immediately afterward. The dates line up too perfectly.

No.

He wouldn’t.

Did that worthless piece of shit sell his own daughter?

“Is that my apartment?”

Her voice cuts through the silence from the doorway. I do not turn around.

“Yes,” I answer calmly, closing the most damning tabs with a few clicks.

“Oh my God.” She steps closer. “Is that… my shower?”

I smirk. “You are such a pervert.”

The words carry both fury and reluctant amusement.

“Just for you,” I reply, finally looking up at her.

She tries to leave, but I catch her wrist gently yet firmly. “Briar. What happened that night…” I keep my voice steady even as rage simmers beneath my skin. “It was around October 6th, wasn’t it?”

She stops pulling away and stares at me, her eyes already glistening with fresh tears. “How did you know?”

Motherfucker.

I draw in a slow, controlled breath, forcing the volcanic anger back down. “Briar… I need to know. Were you a virgin?”

Her face drains of color, then floods with deep red. Panic floods her eyes.

The truth hits me like a blade between the ribs.

I am going to kill her father. I am going to make him scream for hours. I am going to carve out every ounce of pain he allowed her to suffer and return it tenfold.

“Briar…” I stand and pull her into my chest. She does not fight me. Instead she leans in, her warm tears soaking through my shirt as quiet sobs shake her small frame.

“How did you know?” she forces out, the words muffled against me.

“It doesn’t matter,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. My arms tighten around her protectively, possessively. “I’m sorry.”

She chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against my chest, her body still trembling in my arms. “There is a lot you have to apologize for, Drystan… but what happened that night isn’t one of them.”

“It is,” I murmur, my voice rough. “I should have been there. I was always there until they locked me away⁠—”

She shifts, tilting her head all the way back to look up at me. Her blue eyes gleam with something darker now, something almost vengeful. Fresh tears cling to her lashes, and a delicate blush stains her cheeks. The sight makes my chest tighten with violent possession.

“I wish you had been there,” Her voice colder, angrier. “I wish you would’ve killed them.”

“Then let me kill them now.”