Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Gideon
The click of the door opening reached me in the bathroom, and I finished taping up my hands before rushing into the living room.
“How is she?” I demanded the instant I saw Henry.
“What the fuck happened to you?” His eyes zeroed in on my bandaged hands.
“Got into a little accident with the mirror.” I waved him off, downplaying my injuries.
These wounds were nothing compared to some of the shit I’d suffered for years. Once I washed away the blood and shards of glass, it became clear that most of the cuts were superficial. In a few days, they would be nothing but faint scars.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for the mirror.
Henry slipped past me and into the bedroom, taking in the mess I’d made. “A little accident?”
“I’ll pay for a goddamn replacement. Just tell me how she is,” I repeated, hoping he wouldn’t press me about why I’d obliterated the mirror.
That I couldn’t stand the sight of my face.
That I wasn’t sure if I ever could again.
Not when it was yet another reminder of everything those bastards had taken from me.
“She’s hurt,” he finally answered as he returned to the living room and sank into the couch. “And really fucking confused, man.”
“What did she say?” I sat beside him.
“She just wanted to know how this could be possible. What happened to you— or, Samuel,” he corrected.
“What did you tell her?”
“That it’s not my story to tell.”
“And she was okay with that?”
He barked out a laugh. “I wouldn’t say she was okay with that. She’s not okay with any of this. I’m not sure I am, either.” He leveled me with a glare, his disagreement with the path I’d chosen obvious. “But she understands the truth needs to come from you,” he added before I couldremind him of the promise he made when I’d first shared my plans with him.
I gave him the choice to walk away. Told him he didn’t have to be involved. But after uncovering what those bastards did to Jonah, he wanted revenge as much as I did. Vowed to do whatever was necessary to make sure they could never hurt another person.
“You lived it. Not me.” His analytical gaze swept over my features. “You are going to tell her, aren’t you?”
Shifting my eyes from his, I stood and strode toward the large windows overlooking Buckhead, the bustling streets of Atlanta moving thirty stories below.
“She knows who I am. What more is there?”
“A lot fucking more,” he replied sharply, shooting to his feet. “Like the truth about what happened to you. Where you were for four goddamn years.”
“I just want to keep her safe, Henry. The less she knows?—”
“That argument might have worked before. It doesn’t anymore. She knows who you are. That makes her a liability.”
I spun around, eyes wide in panic, my pulse increasing. “A liability? What are you?—”
“Not to you,” he quickly assured me. “But to Liam. And James. Imagine how Liam would react if Imogene just so happens to say, ‘Hey. Did you know Gideon Saint is actually Samuel Tate? Small world, right?’”
I blinked, my mind spinning with dozens of scenarios now that Imogene knew the truth.
At least enough of the truth to make it dangerous.
I hadn’t considered it until now, too consumed with the raw agony I saw in Imogene’s expression this morning. But Henry had a point. If she said something to Liam, it could have disastrous consequences. Not for me, but for her. Hell, Liam had hired someone to kidnap Imogene. There was no telling what he would do if she mentioned I was still alive. Only knowing bits and pieces was more dangerous for her than knowing everything.
“You just said all you care about is keeping her safe,” Henry continued. “By not telling her, you’re putting her life even more at risk. The only way to protect her is if she knows everything or nothing. Since nothing is no longer an option…”
I squeezed my eyes shut as I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to come up with a single scenario where her knowing who I was wouldn’t be a problem.
Liam had repeatedly demonstrated how far he was willing to go in order to control and manipulate Imogene. He was the most dangerous type of man. He’d make you think he was your best friend one minute, then stab you in the back the next.
Or, more appropriately, shoot you in the stomach.
If Imogene were to mention something to Liam, I had no doubt he’d silence her by whatever means necessary. He was already on edge with the body found on his boat, as well as the discovery of my fingerprints at Alton’s cabin.
Things would only get worse once word about a missing funeral director finally started hitting the airwaves.
The same funeral director who was hired to clean up his mess.
“There’s a risk she’ll go to the police before I’ve finished,” I said. “She could not only implicate me, but also you.”
“I told you from the beginning.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I’m with you, no matter where this leads. Even if it’s straight down to hell. I’ve got your back, brother. Always.” He paused, his eyes locking on mine. “You have to decide what’s more important to you. Imogene’s safety. Or this vendetta.”
I pulled away and ran my hand over my face as I exhaled a long breath, the weight of everything a suffocating weight on my chest.
Weeks ago, it wouldn’t have even been a question. I lived and breathed revenge. I was a servant to my vengeance.
But now that I’d seen her tears as she continued to mourn the man I once was, I found myself feeling things I didn’t think possible again.
I meant what I told her the other night. I was falling for her. And not as Samuel.
But as the man I was now.
There was a chance Imogene would turn me in once she learned the extent of my depravity. But it was better than any harm coming to her. I’d never be able to live with myself if that happened.
Facing Henry, I gave him a subtle nod. “I’ll tell her.”