Exodus (The Ravenhood #2)(68)

“He’s right, you know. My brother spoke the truth. He’s spent half his life setting things up, always in the background, doing everything he could to fucking get this thing together. To make sure we were taken care of.” I look him over and see the exhaustion in his posture, in his eyes. “He was telling the truth.”

“I’m not sure you know the meaning of that word. That any of you do.”

“You wanted in,” he reminds me. “This is in.”

“Not this way,” I counter. “And not at this cost.”

“I told you more than once you didn’t want the truth. Why do you think I tried so hard to push you away at first?” One side of his mouth lifts. “You were so fucking perfect.” His eyes cloud with memory. “Standing there in my yard that day, and after…” he shakes his head. “I wanted to hate you. I tried so hard to hate you.”

“Didn’t notice.”

We share a sad smile.

“We always knew the truth would be the end. We always knew that keeping you in the dark was the only real way to keep you. You were amongst liars, thieves, and killers,” he says softly, “way too fucking good for any of it, and I think we clung to you because you represented everything we wanted to protect, but could never be.”

“I never saw you that way. Not ever.”

“Until tonight, huh?” He hangs his head. “Even if we’re trying to do right, we aren’t saints, Cecelia.”

The familiar pang of my name on his lips stings me, and I breathe through it.

“I’m no saint either. You made sure of that. I was a game.”

“No,” he tugs at my hand so I’m standing above him, “never, you were never that.”

“Tell me why you’re here.”

“You didn’t miss me?”

My eyes instantly water. “Every day, rain or shine.” I huff and slap the tears from my face. “Jesus, why can’t I hate you?”

“For the same reason, I can’t hate you.”

He eyes his phone and sets it down before a sad smile tips his lips. “I haven’t seen him look at any woman, the way he looked at you. I’ve never seen him light up like that. I knew it the minute I saw you together. I knew that we were fucked. Sean did too.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. I can hate him all I want for taking what didn’t belong to him, but it’s true.”

“We didn’t mean—”

He jerks his chin. “I can’t hear that right now, okay?”

“Well, I’m not a possession. Despite the fucking branding on my back. No one has that right over another person. This is supposed to be about free will, remember?”

He laces our fingers. “You make that hard to remember. And we were too late.” He looks up at me, and all I see is hurt. “We were too late.”

“So, you guys fucking mark me? Throw a fit and fucking mark me?”

He squats and leans in, pressing his forehead to my stomach. “I can’t do this now. I can’t…just…make him happy.”

“I’m leaving, Dominic. Right now. That’s what I’m doing.”

“You may be, but we both know he won’t let you go.”

“He doesn’t have a choice.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, nuzzling my stomach before looking up at me. “I’m so fucking sorry for all we’ve put you through. I want you to know that. We all are.”

I swallow. “I might be pissed at you, too, but I’m sorry about the cost to you. I never got the chance to tell you I’m sorry about your parents.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I don’t understand how you could—”

He snaps his gaze to mine. “Be with you?”

I nod.

He stands, and time stops when he cups my jaw. And it’s just me and my cool dark cloud. We lock eyes for long seconds. “That’s one question I can answer,” he whispers, his eyes piercing as he leans in, “yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes,” he strokes my face, “I’ve been in love.”

The words strike hard, and I burst into tears at the sound of them.

He grips me in his hold before pressing a brief kiss to my lips and pulling away. “But she went and fell in love with my brother.”

He brushes a tear from my cheek as I look up at him. “I swear to God. I didn’t want to. I clawed his eyes out for as long as I could.”

He gives me a weak chuckle. “I believe that,” he clears his throat and eyes the suitcase behind me.

“I’ll never forgive him,” I say, the ache intensifying.

“I’ll leave that up to you.”

“Will you?” I ask.

He sighs. “He’s my brother, hell, in a way, he’s been like a father, too. I don’t know, Cee. It’s been a fucked-up couple of days.” He scrubs his face. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“Not without answers, first—”

His phone goes off, and he lifts a finger to me before he reads the text and his eyes fly to mine. “Fuck.”

The look on his face has me paling. “What is it?”