I don’t know what possessed Liam to go after Jules last night. I didn’t take him for that kind of a man. An arrogant ass, yes. A man who’d hurt a woman? I huff at the thought. Any man who would do something like that isn’t a man.

“If not Olsen, who else?”

Every hair stands on end and a chill flows down my skin. I question telling my father about Anderson, the entire truth. I have no one else, my back’s against a wall, and this is for Jules. I would do anything for Jules. If that means confessing murder to a murderer, so be it.

I look my father in the eye as I tell him, “I killed Jace Anderson and someone knows.”

I wait for a reaction and the only one I get is that his brows raise slightly and he tilts his head to the side, considering.

“I see,” he says after a moment and again turns away from his seat. His foot taps against the desk as he thinks. “Over Avery, I assume?” he says.

I nod once. He has the dignity to look ashamed for a split second.

“You didn’t love her. You didn’t want her. You told me that much.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” I say and grip the armrests, feeling the anger rise, but he holds up his hands in both defense and understanding.

It’s quiet for a moment, with only the ticking of the clock counting the seconds to keep us company as my father takes in the truth of what happened.

Finally, he looks up and says, “You could have come to me.”

“I was angry at you too,” I say and his eyes spark with indignation at my admission.

As if just now putting the pieces together, his expression changes and he asks, “That’s why Jules went to the police? She knows?”

“Yes.” I swallow the spiked lump in my throat.

“Who is it who knows?” he asks me, thankfully leaving the difficulties with Jules out of the conversation. “And what exactly do they know?”

“I don’t know,” I say and he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Jules received an anonymous letter.” The paper lays in my wallet as we speak, but I don’t present it to him. “It was a warning to get away from me with no evidence.”

“Someone knows you killed Jace, warned her to get away from you… but then tried to kill her?” he asks me with confusion.

I nod my head, fully comprehending the lack of logic.

“I don’t think they were planning on doing anything when it came to Anderson. They only told Jules to get back at me. And then tried to kill her to keep the secret silenced.”

“Who would do that?” he asks me.

You, I think, but I don’t say it. I don’t have to, though.

His face contorts with disbelief before he turns completely in his chair and opens a cabinet door. I watch in the reflection of the glass, clearly seeing a safe and what’s more, the numbers of the combination to open it.

It’s the same combination he had on the garage when I was a child. I rip my eyes away from the reflection when he peers back up, holding a stack of photographs in his hand and shutting the door to the safe and then the cabinet with a kick of his foot.

“I wasn’t sure if I should show you this or not,” he says and lets out an uneasy breath. “It would have complicated things between you and Liam.”

I glance down at the photographs and then immediately back up to my father’s gaze. Jace Anderson and Liam’s wife, Cecile?

“No,” I say and the word leaves me without my consent.

“They’re getting a divorce, so I imagine Liam found out about the affair somehow,” my father says absently.

“Maybe Liam? Maybe his wife?” my father says, shrugging. “Either way, I’m sure now that the hit failed, I doubt they’ll attempt it again.”

His last statement catches me by surprise, and I tear my eyes away from the evidence of Cecile’s affair to gauge my father’s reaction.

“I’m keeping my ear to the ground and waiting to hear back from a certain someone,” he says then shakes his head slightly, “but no one knows anything according to my source.”

I can’t imagine how deep my father’s depravity goes that he has contacts in such low places.

My father continues without looking at me. “I talked to the commissioner.” I’ve been waiting for this. I know there are consequences to what happened the other night. Liam’s gunning for me.

“You may have to go in for questioning. You won’t be charged with anything, of course. But they have to make it seem like they’ve done their due diligence.” Thatchers belong on only one side of the courtroom. It’s a saying the men in my family have carried for years.

“I need to go,” my father tells me, rising from his seat and gesturing to the door. “If you need help this time, let me know.”

Jules

It’s not the anger toward him,

It’s not the dimming fire.

It’s not the love I feel for him,

Or how my heart bleeds with desire.

My soul is broken, torn and bent,

Never to repair.

To truly hate oneself,

The sin leaves me in despair.

Seventeen days have passed since I got the anonymous letter in the mail.

Each day, Mason looks at me differently. It’s like he knows I’m leaving. I’m not convinced leaving is the answer; I’m not convinced I should stay though either.

The bedroom door creaks open as I brush my hair, getting ready for bed. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll be sleeping in bed with me tonight. He walks into the room quietly, shutting the door behind him. The left side of his face is bruised and cut, but somehow it only adds to his beauty. A prince, wounded in battle saving his princess.

I almost laugh. A hint of it must have escaped at the thought, because he turns to look at me as the door clicks shut. The only light in the room is from the small lamp on the nightstand and the way the shadows sharpen his features does the worst things to me.

There’s an odd dynamic between the two of us. He wants to touch me, he keeps coming close to doing just that, circling me and waiting, but he doesn’t.

The part that’s truly insane is that it disappoints me, every single time. I’m crazy for feeling any attraction to him at all, but I’m drawn like a moth to a flame.

He picked me up when I fell.

He protected me when I was weak.

And even though I hate him for what he’s done, he’s the only reason I’m still alive.

“You can’t hide in here forever, Jules,” Mason comments half-heartedly with a small smile on his lips that doesn’t reach his eyes. He closes the space between us easily, and I let him. His lips brush against mine in what I presume will be a gentle kiss, but he deepens it and without my conscious consent, I lean into it. I didn’t realize how much I missed his touch.

He moans into my mouth as he kisses me deeply, not holding back a damn thing. I wish I could do the same, but all I find myself doing is forcing myself to stay away, to keep my guard up around him. I can’t let myself fall again. I won’t. I utterly refuse to give him that chance or else I know he’ll keep me forever. And I don’t know who exactly I’ll be if I let that happen.