Chapter 10 #2
My fingers find my lips. I press against them, tracing the lower one without realizing I'm doing it until Samuel gathers my hand away from my mouth. He holds it between both of his, his callused fingers rough against my skin.
A laugh pushes out of me, thin and fractured.
Nervous. All this time I've been so focused on proving Edgar murdered my father that I did not stop to think about the criminal empires operating behind the men.
My father included. I know Dad was dirty in the sense of building wealth in questionable ways, but I know for a fact he would never have done anything on Edgar's level.
He fed families. He built shelters. He hired ex-cons and gave them second chances.
And then the realization hits, quiet as a closing door.
"Maybe that is why they needed him out of the way."
The words leave my mouth and settle between us. Samuel's expression shifts a fraction. The barest tightening around his eyes that confirms what my gut says is highly possible.
My father discovered what Edgar was doing. Or came close. And they killed him for it.
I step away from Samuel. My bare feet slap against the warm concrete and I cross to the wall of windows.
Beyond the glass, the sleeping garden stretches into nothing.
My reflection stares back at me, small and pale.
I press my fingertips against the glass and the cold bites into my skin.
That small sensation does nothing to ease the pain in my heart.
“I miss him so much, Samuel. My heart aches to see my father one more time. To help him the way he always helped me. I feel so helpless.”
There’s nothing I can do to ease the flow of tears as they hit hard and fast. My shoulders shake with the power of my grief.
Strong arms wrap around me from behind, pulling my back flush against his chest. Heat bleeds through the thin fabric of his shirt on my shoulders, and his chin settles against the top of my head. I lean into him and he takes my weight without shifting an inch.
When my tears quiet, he asks softly, "Tell me what happened, Cinder." Samuel's voice is calm. "Share your burden with me. Let me help you carry it."
So I tell him.
Everything. My mother. My father. Francesca and Edgar and every ugly thing that happened after the people I loved were put in the ground. The words pour out of me in no particular order, tangled with grief and snot and the kind of anger that only comes from holding it in too long.
"They never caught who killed my mother. Now that I'm older and see things more clearly, I think my stepmother did it. She always wanted the financial stability my mother had. She said as much. But you never think the worst of people."
I tell him how Francesca served herself on a platter of manufactured necessity and my father ate it up because he needed to be needed.
How everyone loved him. How he took care of people who had less and never turned anyone away.
And how none of it saved him from a bullet and a will rewritten to cut me out of my own family.
"I left you that night because I needed to find a way to prove they killed him. Being with you made my anger fade and I couldn't have that."
Samuel's silence is a held breath. I watch his reflection in the glass. His jaw is tight, his dark eyes fixed on me.
"You took on a burden that put your life in danger." His voice goes rougher like gravel scraping against itself. "Why didn't you tell me? Ask for help. You understood the power behind my name that night. All you would have had to do is tell me and I would have ended anyone you pointed a finger at."
I turn, my eyes burning. "Why didn't I tell my one-night stand about all my problems?" My brow lifts.
His chin drops half an inch. "You know it was more than that. You felt our connection that night and it scared you. Admit it."
"It did." The admission frees a part of my heart. "I was afraid if I stayed, I would have taken my focus off my father."
"Oh, princess." He kisses the tip of my nose, then my forehead. His lips linger and his breath fans warm over my skin, and I close my eyes against the sting building behind my lashes.
Shadows roam over his expression. "You think she changed his will?"
"I know it for a fact." I open my eyes and hold his gaze. "But I don't care about the money or the family empire. I care about the man who loved me more than his own life. And justice."
His thumb strokes along my jaw. The callused pad drags over skin that still carries the ghost of Edgar's grip, and the gentleness of the contrast hollows my insides.
"Stay with me. We will figure it out while keeping you safe."
His dark brown eyes hold mine and the warmth in them is terrifying because I want to fall into it and never climb out.
"I foolishly thought I could handle this by myself, and tonight proved I was wrong. But I don't want anyone else getting hurt because of those two."
Samuel's chest expands on a long, slow breath. “It’s long past that now. There’s no other way than to end this with more violence.”
My heart tears in two directions. Forward, toward the justice I owe my father. Backward, toward the only man who has fought for me since the day I buried the last person who loved me.
I press my forehead against his collarbone and breathe him in. Cedar, black pepper, and the faint copper of dried blood. My father's killer is out there right now, wounded, furious, and assembling every resource he has to destroy what's left of my family.
And I just handed the only man willing to fight for us the permission to fight dirty.
God help Edgar. Because Samuel won't.