Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Ava
“I’m the monster,” I say, in a daze, sitting between Eve and Wyn on the bed. “I’ve been the monster this whole time…”
Ember is holding my hand, and Wyn is sitting in front of me, hand on my knee.
“No, Ava, listen,” Eve says. “Hypnosis isn’t always reliable. The mind can create false memories that feel completely real. We have no way of knowing if what you’re remembering actually happened...”
“It happened,” I say, my voice flat. “It’s real.”
I feel numb, and my mind keeps circling on one horrific moment—the knife sinking into the Senator’s throat, followed by a waterfall of blood. It was so fast.
“Eve is right,” Wyn says in a soothing voice. “Until we have corroboration, we don’t know….”
But I do know. Memories of that morning have filled the corners of my mind, and they’re as solid and undeniable as the mattress beneath me. And all this time, Jackson let me believe he was the one…
Why?
“I’m getting Jackson,” Ember says, getting up abruptly.
I don’t say anything. I’m too busy trying to grapple with my new reality.
I killed a man.
I’m a murderer.
“I ended someone’s life,” I say, staring straight ahead. “Violently.”
And not only that, I almost killed the guy who attacked me yesterday. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Okay, if that’s even true…then…Senator Davis was a predator,” Wyn says. “You were protecting yourself. Anyone in your situation would have done the same thing.”
I shake my head slowly, rejecting Wyn’s tidy justification.
Because it’s not true. I could have stabbed at his arm or shoulder.
But I purposefully went for his throat. And now, I keep seeing his eyes—wide, shocked, that spark of life fading to nothing.
That image, more than any other, will haunt me forever.
“I protected myself,” I repeat, testing the words. They sound hollow. They feel like a lie.
“You didn’t set out to be a killer,” Eve says softly, but her words barely reach me.
I sink back against the mountain of pillows. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself.”
Wyn reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair off my shoulder. “You don’t have to forgive yourself yet. You survived an assault. That doesn’t make you a monster.”
I shake my head again, sobs bubbling up and breaking free. The weight of the truth crushes me, and all I can think is…how do I live with this? How do I look at myself in the mirror when the reflection staring back is a fucking murderer?
Hot tears stream down my cheeks as Wyn, Eve, and I linger in silence. My mind is a storm, swirling with anger, betrayal, and the reality of what I’ve done. And what Jackson has done. He lied for three years. He let everyone believe it was him.
“Why didn’t Jackson tell me?” I say, sitting up, wiping away the tears. The thought of confronting him makes my stomach twist. The tenuous trust between us is shattered now. How could I ever trust him again?
“I’m sure he has a reason,” Wyn says. “Ember left to find him.”
I nod, more tears falling. I’ve been kept in the dark for too long. I need the truth, even if it destroys me. I won’t let anyone dictate the story of my life—not Jackson, not the lies, not the senator.
I don’t know how long it takes, but eventually Ember returns with Jackson in tow. When they walk in, I climb off the bed and face him.
“I haven’t told him anything,” Ember says, her gaze skirting to Wyn and Eve. She jerks her chin. “Let’s give them a minute.”
They walk out and close the door.
“Eve,” he says softly, almost cautiously. “Are you okay?”
I blink up at him, emotions a tangled mess in my chest. Where do I even start? “I needed to know what happened that morning in Missouri, so…” I swallow. “...I asked Eve to hypnotize me.”
Jackson’s face shifts in an instant, from mild concern to full-blown alarm. “Ava—”
Honestly, that’s all the confirmation I need. It’s all true.
“Why’d you let everyone think it was you… all this time?”
Jackson’s eyes flicker—something between guilt and anger, but he doesn’t move to close the distance. “Ava, the mind can invent things—”
“Don’t!” I snap, white-hot anger breaking past the shame and guilt. “Don’t lie to me. For once, Jackson, tell me the fucking truth.”
“You think I’d just, what, randomly admit to killing someone I haven’t killed?” he asks.
“I don’t know what to think anymore!” I scream, my voice cracking. “I… I killed someone, Jackson. I killed him! And you…you let me believe I was the victim!”
He steps closer to me, slow and deliberate, and I see the moment he decides to tell the truth. He pushes out a breath. “I lied to protect you. I knew if I took responsibility, then the Burning Crown would be forced to make it go away.”
“Who else knows?” I ask.
“Only one other person, doesn’t matter who,” he answers. “But no one in the Burning Crown knows, not even the other Sacred Sons.”
Tears burn down my cheeks. “But why did you lie to me, Jackson?”
His jaw tightens. “To protect you from this.” He gestures at me, at my tears. “From the fucking trauma of knowing—” He cuts himself off. He can’t even say it.
“You think you saved me?” I shake my head. “You destroyed me. I spent three years thinking I watched the man I loved become a monster. Do you have any idea what that did to me?” I shout, my voice breaking.
He’s quiet now, and I can feel the tension coiling between us. Finally, he speaks, but his voice is so quiet, I can barely hear it. “I couldn’t let you—”
“What?” I cut him off. “You couldn’t let me see the truth? Couldn’t trust me to handle it? Couldn’t trust me to survive it?”
“I did what I had to do, even if it meant you’d hate me,” he says. “I had to protect you.”
“See, that’s it, right there—you’ll always choose what you think is best, not what I actually need,” I say.
“Baby—” He reaches for me, but I shake my head and pull away. The air between us vibrates, and his hand flexes at his side. I can see him fighting the urge to grab me, to pull me close, and take control.
Watching him hold himself back—when he never does—drains the fight right out of me. The air leaves my lungs in a shaky breath, my shoulders sagging under the weight of it all.
“I can’t do this, Jackson,” I whisper. “I can’t go back to the way things were.”
He looks gutted, like I’ve reached into his chest and torn his heart out with my bare hand. “What are you saying?”
“I need to leave,” I say, my chest tight, my heart splitting in two. “I need to go home to my family.”
He just stands there, eyes full of pain. “You’re my wife, Ava. I’m your family.”
I shake my head and take a step back, retreating. On some level, I know it’s not fair. I know he took the fall for something I did, and I should be grateful. I am grateful. But everything between us is so fucked up—what we were, what we could be, is now shattered into a million tiny pieces.
And to make matters worse, I’m still hiding something from him.
Something that felt justified at the time.
Necessary, even. But now, knowing what I know, it’s just another layer of cruelty stacked onto an already towering mountain of it.
Another wound I’ve carved into someone who’s already bled for me.
“But before I go,” I say, my voice shaking. “There’s something I need to tell you—”
He takes another step forward and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You don’t need to say anything.”
Fat tears cling to my eyelashes, and I blink. “Yes. I do.”
“Whatever it is,” he says, his gaze searching my face. “We’ll figure it out.”
I shake my head. “It’s—”
“Ava,” he interrupts, his voice cracking. “Listen to me. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I can’t let you go again.”
My chest caves in. I’ve always loved you. Those words break something in me, and, my God, I wish I could believe him. But right now I’m questioning everything. Where do the lies stop and the truth begin? How can I possibly know what’s real?
“If that’s true, then you love a version of me that doesn’t exist,” I say. “I honestly don’t even know who I am, so how could you?”
“I know you, Ava. Better than anyone.” He takes a step closer, and every fiber of my being urges me to run, to stay, to give in. My body is drawn to him even while my mind screams for distance.
I don’t move, I can’t.
“Tell me what you need,” he pleads, his voice breaking, reaching for me like a drowning man. “Name it and it’s yours.”
“I need space. Time.” I force myself to look at him through the blur of tears. “I need to figure out who I am without you deciding for me. And you need to let me go.”