47. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
SEBASTIAN
Nausea washes over me, it rises from deep in my gut.
Any ounce of compassion I saved for my wife is completely shattered. Mary will be lucky to have her head attached to that slender neck of hers by the end of the day. I am going to kill her, with my bare fucking hands.
She has dared to touch what’s mine.
Veronica is pale, the pink that previously dusted her porcelain skin nonexistent. The rich chocolate of her eyes is dull, lifeless, haunting. She looks so tired. So fucking tired. Dark rings linger under each of her eyes, I want to run my thumb over them as if I could wash the deep color away.
“Vee…”
Vee?
Red clouds my vision when I hear the bastard beside the bed call Veronica by nickname.
His blue eyes search hers for something I can’t quite make out, and fury shoots through my veins.
She’s staring at him, speaking to the curly haired man without physical words.
A whole conversation is spoken between them, locked away from me.
My teeth grind together the longer their gazes stay locked. I have always thought of myself a patient man, but there is only so much I can take. The coil inside me is wound too tight.
I’m going to snap.
The curly haired man straightens, his eyes sliding to meet my own.
They narrow immediately, mine mimicking the action.
Veronica nudges his arm, a subtle gesture I catch only out of the corner of my eye.
A disgruntled sigh leaves the man before he leans over her.
My chest vibrates in anger as he presses a chaste kiss to Veronica’s forehead, his blue eyes shooting disdain toward me.
“I’ll be right outside the door, Ron.” He mutters against her skin and she nods.
A grunt leaves my lips as the sharp jud of the man's shoulder pushes into my chest. I stumble a step back, keeping my eyes locked on Veronica. She isn’t looking at me.
No, she’s watching him.
I cross the room with purpose, my blood boiling to alarming levels. Starting a fight isn’t going to solve anything. Veronica has never taken well if she feels cornered. I need to calm the fuck down before I find out what the hell is going on.
My gaze catches the mop of curls atop the man's head.
He is exactly where he promised he'd be, leaning against the wall just outside the door.
I spare him no more than a brief glare before easing the door shut.
The soft, quiet click of the latch sounds much louder than it should.
My hand rests on the curved golden handle long enough for a second to breathe.
Finally, I turn back to her.
“I cannot fix something, if I don’t know what is wrong, Veronica,” I say softly, not wanting to cause anymore pain behind those brown eyes. My steps are hesitant as I step forward, stopping once I reach the end of the bed.
The warmth of her gaze is what kept me sane while I was away all this time.
Now, Veronica’s gaze is like ice, sleek and unbreakable.
She’s right in front of me, yet it’s as if we are thousands of miles apart.
If looks could kill, I’d be dead. Nothing I say is going to ease whatever was broken in my absence. How the fuck did it get this bad?
“Please,” the word rolls off my tongue hoarsely. I’ve never had to beg for anything in my life, but if I need to get on my knees for her, I will.
I will do so, shamelessly.
Veronica hasn’t moved from her spot on the bed. The curtain, once in front of her, still covers her bare chest. In my twenty-three years of living, never have I seen something so barbaric. While I’m not naive to the knowledge of how cruel humanity can be, I was not prepared to see it up close.
My hands are stained with the blood of my enemies, something I will never be able to wash away. Even dragging the sharp blade of my sword against another man’s throat doesn’t compare to this feeling of desperation coursing through me.
I would slice a hundred more throats if I could rewind time, but I cannot.
Beyond the open windows, finches sing to one another in soft melodies that feel like a cruel mockery. The sun is high, warm and welcoming. Without looking outside, I can smell the early blooms of roses and peonies. I’m lightheaded over it all.
Little Dove. Little Dove. Little Dove.
My knuckles ache, the continuous motion of curling and uncurling my hands into fists becoming tiring. I want to go to her, to pull her to my chest and whisper promises I may not be able to keep. Anything to get her to speak to me.
There is so much I need to say, to ask. I don’t even know where to start.
“Was I ever anything to you?” Veronica’s voice finally fills my ears, but it breaks my heart.
“What?” I breathe, almost afraid to even ask. “You are… everything to me, where is this coming from?”
Her dark eyes lift, the length of her lashes filling with tears.
I go to her, rounding the corner of the bed until I am sitting beside her.
Worry creases my forehead, pulling at my chest the longer she stares at me.
It’s a good sign, her not pushing me away right now.
I lift my hand to test the waters, running my thumb gently against her right lash line.
Veronica flinches at my touch, and I tense immediately.
“Your mother knew.” Her words are a shock.
I stare at her, more confused than before. What does she mean my mother knew? What did she know?
“She gave my uncle the jewels.”
My lips part, jaw slacking. “What?” My face falls and I search Veronica’s dark eyes, but she isn’t letting me read her properly.
“She knew who I was when I came back. She knew, and she allowed this.” Veronica’s voice is void of life. She speaks to inform.
“Everything is a lie. You are a lie.” Her words strike right through my heart, piercing the muscle in a clean slice.
I’m dumbfounded, unable to form the words to reply.
Anger floods my body. It’s irrational and selfish, but how the fuck could Veronica ever think I lied to her? My mother? Sure. Fine. I can rationalize that, but me?
“I have done nothing wrong.” I begin, grinding my molars to keep myself from snapping. “I have been forced away, everything that happened was completely out of my control.” My heart slams over and over against my ribcage. It’s hard to breathe.
Veronica’s eyes narrow on me.
SLAP.
Pain explodes across my cheek, the force of her palm against my skin sends a blow of shock through me.
My eyes widen, locked on the brunette sliding out from beneath the curtain.
I take in the swollen areolas of her nipples due to our twins nursing.
Her hip bones jut out slightly, her stomach flat. She has lost weight.
The dress falls, blocking my gaze of her body, breaking the void I was lowering into.
“You had control, Sebastian.” Veronica’s voice is small. It trembles softly, showing me, the first ounce of emotion eating her up inside. “I saw the signature. I…”
“Signature?” I stand, my eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “Veronica, I barely had time to write to you.”
Her dark eyes lift to mine, tears rolling down her porcelain cheeks.
The chirping finches outside the window are really ticking me the fuck off, their happiness completely unwarranted.
Veronica is silent, staring at me for a second, before she laughs.
The sound is absolutely haunting. Every small hair on the back of my neck rises.
Mary has done it. She has broken my Little Dove. Completely snapped the remainder of Veronica’s sanity, leaving a husk of the girl I love dearly.