Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Why am I not enough for you?” He rounded on me, his powerful arms clenched at his sides, staring me down like I was the enemy, not the woman he loved. “I’ve given you everything. I’ve given you every single part of me. Why the fuck is that not enough?”
I stepped back, my eyes shifting back and forth between his, realizing there was something I was missing.
Gilbert hurried out the door and silently shut it behind him.
“What aren’t you telling me?” My voice escaped as a whisper, because when he was irrational, it somehow made me turn calm.
He looked away, his hands moving to his hips.
“Fender.”
He looked out the window for a long time, his thoughts somewhere else.
“Tell me.”
He turned back to me, his look less angry and more restrained.
“Your hatred for her can’t outweigh your love for me. I need her in my life—period. She escaped, burned down your camp, turned your world upside down. But let’s not forget that you took her against her will, and the only reason you despise her is because she’s given you nothing but hell. I’m proud of her. I’m so fucking proud of her for not giving up. So, you’re just going to have to let that go—”
“That’s not why.” His voice turned quiet and calm, which was somehow more intimidating.
“Then why?”
His eyes shifted back and forth as he looked into mine, as if debating whether he should tell me. His arms crossed over his chest, the muscles becoming more pronounced. “I’m scared of her.”
My reaction was uncontrollable. Eyebrows spiked. A breath escaped my slightly parted lips. Unbridled surprise entered my features. Fender wasn’t scared of anyone—let alone a woman. “You think she’ll try to kill you?”
“No. If she wants to keep Magnus in her life, that’s not an option for her.”
“Then…I don’t understand.”
He stared at the ground for a moment before he looked at me. “This is exactly what will happen. She’ll talk in your ear. Poison your mind. Remind you of all the reasons you shouldn’t be with me. She’ll turn you against me—like she always does. Then you’ll leave me. That’s what fucking scares me.”
He was right on the money. That was exactly how that would go.
“I know what she says to you—even when I’m not in the room. I know she’ll never feel differently about me and what I do. We’ll always be at odds with each other. And you picked her once—you’ll do it again.”
His dark eyes bored into my gaze, impatient for a response.
“I did pick her once…and I was miserable.”
He sucked in a deep breath.
Those months had passed so quickly but so slowly at the same time. Even though Raven and I were free and had successfully liberated everyone from the camp, I’d had no reason to go on. There was no zest for life. My nights were sleepless. My heart was heavy. “But I won’t pick her again.”
His gaze turned stoic, like he didn’t believe that.
“Because I won’t have to. You’ll do the right thing.”
He closed his eyes and released a long, drawn-out breath. “Stop saying that shit—”
“You will.”
His skin started to flush red again, but his anger didn’t explode. “I won’t let you go again, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, you will.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You would never do that, Fender.”
“You underestimate me—”
“I could walk out the front gate right now, and you’d let me go.” I knew him better than he knew himself. I knew the real him—not this shadow.
His eyes drilled into my face, but he didn’t refute me.
“You’re forcing yourself to be something that you aren’t. Aren’t you tired?”
Silence.
“You’ve accomplished everything that you ever wanted. It’s over—”
“I will consider your request.” He dismissed the conversation by stepping away from me and moving into the sitting area. He opened a bottle of scotch, filled a glass, and then sat at the table to eat his dinner.
And that was the end of it.
Twenty-Two
Freedom
Fender
We didn’t speak through dinner and the rest of the evening.
But when we made love, all of that changed.
She slowly came back to me. Her nails dug into my back. Her kisses turned hard. She whispered her love to me. The last time we’d had a fight, I’d left, and we both could have died. She learned from that and didn’t hold on to her anger.
I didn’t either.
I got dressed and prepared to leave.
In my t-shirt, she sat at the edge of the bed, a mess from all the sex, but a beautiful mess. She watched my movements, her arms over her chest, dread in her eyes.
“I need to show you something.”
She followed me downstairs. I led her through the foyer, behind the staircase, and down a hallway behind the kitchen. In a room was a bookshelf that took up the entire back wall.
“Pay attention.” I walked over to the books on the shelf, specifically War and Peace, and tilted them back simultaneously. Then I went to the piano and hit the first white key.