Curling my legs up beneath me, I wrapped the covers tight like a fortress. “Get. Out.” My voice was full of contempt.

Shuffling sounded below, but no reply. A few tense minutes ratcheted my heart rate, before he slowly inclined from lying to sitting. His back rested against my bed as he groaned, grabbing his head. “Fuck.”

He didn’t look up. His long legs bent, the rest of his body wrung out and weary.

The love I’d had for him wanted to comfort, but the repulsion of him leaving me last night made me hunker deeper into my quilt and glower.

Rubbing both hands over his face, he yawned. Every motion was lethargic and reeking of drunkenness.

So he’d left me at the fate of his family to drink last night?

Asshole. Complete and utter asshole.

Looking over his shoulder, he froze.

My breathing ceased. My blood curdled. “Leave.”

The single syllable hung between us like a deflating balloon falling to the carpet.

Jethro swallowed. Pain and intoxication swam in his eyes. Finally, he nodded. Gone was the refined gentleman who hid so much. Gone were the chiselled cheekbones and radiant golden eyes.

The man before me…the man who’d hurt me, crushed me, and still held my heart in his traitorous hands was a mere shadow of himself—not even a shadow—an extinguished, extinct, broken thing.

We stared for a millennium.

Slowly, his lips tilted into a grimace; he bestowed the saddest, sweetest smile and staggered to his feet. “I’m sorry.” With an unsteady wave, he swayed to the door. “Didn’t want you to wake…alone. Wanted to keep you…safe.”

His voice roped around my heart, forcing it to beat and flurry. His steps were terminally empty, staggering toward the exit.

That was it?

No heartfelt plea or fervent explanation?

Just ‘I’m sorry?’

“No, you know what?” I threw the duvet away and hurled myself out of bed. Storming after him, I grabbed his forearm and dug my nails into his flesh. “Sorry isn’t good enough.” Tears exploded into being—a salty river flowing unheeded down my cheeks. “Sorry doesn’t cover what you’ve done to me. Sorry will never be good enough!”

He stood there like a township sacked by pillaging enemies. He didn’t move to shrug me off or argue or explain. He just curled into himself, squeezing his eyes as tight as possible.

I hit him.

“Tell me what they did to me!”

I hit him again.

“Look me in the fucking eye and tell me why you let them do this!”

I hit him again and again and again.

“Explain to me why you didn’t save me. That you left me to suffer when I know you care for me!”

He jerked away from my barrage, backing toward the door. “I’ll leave. I won’t put you through any more—”

“No!” I screamed. I’d never been so loud. My voice bounced off the chandelier, disappearing into luxury fabrics waiting to be turned into garments. “You leave now and you will never be welcome in my life. You hear me? I hate you for what you made me go through last night.” My voice cracked. “Kestrel—he proved to be twice the man you are and I liked him touching me. At least he deserved a reward for doing whatever he could to save me.”

Jethro stumbled backward, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t want to hear about—”

“Tough shit!” I stalked him as he lurched away.

My stomach coiled and spat with pain. What Kestrel did last night stained my entire outlook. Yes, I was grateful to him for trying. Yes, I’d come under his touch. But it made me feel dirty and whorish to speak about Kes to Jethro.

I didn’t have feelings toward him other than friendship. And even then, I still didn’t trust him. He’d drugged me for heaven’s sake!

But I wanted to hurt Jethro so much. I wanted him in pieces like I was. I wanted him fucking bleeding at my feet and begging for forgiveness.

I turned feral. Vibrating with the need to hurt. I’d never been so callous to crave their pain. But this…I’d never experienced anything like this.

Shoving his chest, I snarled, “Where did you go, huh? Where were you while your brother put his finger inside me and came all over my back?”

He grunted, shaking his head. “Nila—don’t—”

“No. You don’t.” I pushed him again. My hands curled into fists, raining on his chest. “Talk to me! Tell me what the fuck you were thinking! I’m done existing this way. I won’t let you use my emotions against me anymore.”

He swallowed hard, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I get it. You hate me and want me to leave.” He stumbled forward, pushing past to reach for the doorknob as if it was centimetres away not metres. “I’m leaving…I’ll g—go.”

The slurs and hesitation spoke of a tongue still tangled with booze.

“You’re drunk.” I laughed, letting my pain frolic in the brittle sound. “I can’t believe you left me last night and got drunk!”

He shook his head. “Not anymore.” His eyes watered. “I wish I was. Fuck, I wish I was drunk. Then this wouldn’t hurt so damn much.”

“What wouldn’t hurt so much?!” I plucked the strange nightgown I wore. Who dressed me after they’d finished raping my unconscious form? Who put me to bed to wake alone and discarded?

But you weren’t alone. He slept beside you.

“What wouldn’t hurt, Jethro? The fact you’re a monster? That you’re a horrible human being? That you’re a pussy? Oh perhaps, none of the above?” My eyes narrowed. Anger boiled over, stripping body from bone. My temper was corrosive—an acid eating its way like a worm inside my mind. I couldn’t go on living like this. I couldn’t go on loving a man who refused to love me in return. I couldn’t exist in this hell. “Maybe you hurt, because you finally see how fucking wrong all of this is!”

“Stop.” He covered his mouth, shaking his head. “Just stop—”

“No! I won’t stop. Not until you tell me. Tell me what they did to me last night. I need to know. Don’t you get it? Not knowing is worse!” I balled my hands, wanting to kick him. “I want you to keep your bloody promise. Tell me what you were going to tell me the day the police came for me.”

He froze. “I—I can’t. Not now.”

“Yes. Now. This instant.” I pointed at the door. “You leave, you never come back. I’ll never again acknowledge you, look at you…kiss you. Do you understand? Never, Jethro. This is your last chance.”

I ran hands through my hair, pulling the stands. “I don’t even know why I’m giving you that. After what you did last night, you don’t deserve a chance to explain. You deserve to die a miserable death and leave me the hell alone.”

A tortured groan echoed in his chest. “Just let me go, Nila. I can’t—”

“No!” I stomped my foot. “You don’t get off easily this time. Not again. Spit it out. Tell. Me!”

The air around him withered and wilted. He shrunk, closing himself off from everything.

I stood there like an island as his regret and confusion waked around my ankles. His utter devastation undermined my anger, but I refused to break.

It was his turn to grovel. His turn to show me light in this never-ending blackness.

I’d tried to help him so many times. I’d made excuses for him. Trusted in the stolen touches and bone-deep knowledge that he loved me. I’d begged him to let me in. To love him. To cherish everything he was—even his secrets.

But he’d pushed and shoved and hurt me so damn much. And no matter how badly he treated me, I couldn’t tear out the love I had for him. He was a confused, cruel, crippled human being who wasn’t good for me.

My anger switched to sadness. If he couldn’t even give me this—when I was at my most violent and open—he couldn’t give me anything.

Just let him go. End this charade.

I sighed, taking a step backward. “Go. Just leave.”

His spine stiffened as he glared at the wall.

Tears ran down my face as I stared at the cold animal I’d given my heart to. The icy fear that I’d been abused by Daniel and Cut filled my mind. Was that why Kestrel had drugged me? So I wouldn’t have to live through something so heinous? Had he done it out of concern for my wellbeing?

Would Jethro ever do something so heroic?

He gritted his teeth, finally looking at me. “I’m supposed to tell you that my father raped you and my youngest brother degraded you to the point of ruin. I’m supposed to stand here and fill your vacant memories with pain and evil abuse.”

He took a step toward me.

My skin crawled at the thought of him coming closer.

“But, no matter how this will backfire, no matter if my plan fails and everything I’ve tried to avoid comes into play, I can’t—I can’t do that to you.” His eyes were wild and dilated, thanks to drugs and liquor. “Nila, I swear on my fucking life, no one touched you. Kestrel knocked you out, so we could do what we needed behind the scenes.” He punched his chest. “But I give you my word as a Hawk that the only person who touched you was me.” His eyes fell on my nightgown. “I dressed you, kissed you, put you to bed. And then I curled up on the floor to ward off any more assholes. Even though I’ve proven I’m not worthy, even though you hate me—as you should—I couldn’t live with myself if I told you a lie on top of all the others.”