“How does it feel to know you’ve fucked a true Russo?”
Angelo’s words replay in my mind over and over like the broken cassette player in my dad’s old Cadillac. When he said them, I was still too shocked to react, to think of a reply, but now all I feel is blinding rage. It’s like something deep inside me has snapped, and all the pain and anger I’ve held in a tiny box for all these years, has escaped. It’s overwhelming, but at the same time, it’s kind of freeing. My therapist used to tell me it’s unhealthy to hold emotions in, but as we pull into the driveway of the estate I’ve never felt more powerful.
No one has said a word since we left the office. Storm and Tommy are in the front while Clara and I are bundled into the back seat. She hasn’t stopped shaking since we found her under her desk after they left, and I wish I could give her more than I am right now. She didn’t deserve to be dragged into this. My sweet, innocent personal assistant who never asked questions, who never called in sick and always knew what I needed before I did. Part of me wishes I had never hired her. We clicked that first day, and I told her she had the job on the spot, but she’s too pure to work so closely with a Saint James. The darkness was always bound to bleed eventually.
“Wynter?” Storm says, and I finally drag my eyes away from the window. His brow is pulled together, the worry in his gaze clear as day. “Let’s get inside so we can talk.”
I nod, taking Tommy’s outstretched hand to help me climb from the back of the sports car. The moment my feet are on the driveway, he’s helping Clara’s shaking body out. She hasn’t looked at Tommy or Storm since we found her, fear oozing from her pores. I should reassure her that they’re nothing like the men who hurt her, but the reality is that they are. And so am I.
Snow, Emerson, and Rayne stand at the top of the steps, their faces all filled with just as much worry as Storm’s. I glance over my shoulder to find Clara bundled up in Tommy’s arms before making my way up the stairs.
“Are you okay?” Snow asks.
“No,” I whisper. I’ve never been further from okay. I’m not even on the same fucking planet as okay right now. The man I love. The man I’ve loved since before I understood the gravity of the emotion, has been lying to me the entire time I’ve known him. All the times I looked after him, all the times I held him after his uncles beat him, all the times our family helped him, it was all a lie. Everything was a lie.
“There’s more to it than you think,” Rayne tells me.
“I doubt that.”
“Let’s go into my office and talk,” Storm suggests as he trails behind me.
“No, thank you.” I shake my head. “You were right. I’m not strong enough to be a part of this side of the business. You guys take it from here.”
Before he can reply, I’m up the stairs and closing my bedroom door behind me. I lean against the hardwood for a moment, needing it to hold me steady on my shaking legs, but when I look up and around the room, all the air leaves my lungs. Every inch of this room reminds me of Everett. Every single surface smells like him, every single corner has memories of him. If I close my eyes, I can feel him here with me, even when I know he’s far away from here.
I slide down the door, my legs no longer able to hold my weight, and the moment my knees hit the ground, a painful sob claws its way from my throat and all the tear I never cried fall against my cheeks. Everything I ever loved was a lie, and it’s that thought that plagues me until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, and my body drifts to the ground, succumbing to the unconsciousness it craves.
