Page 96 of Trust Me

I awoke tangled in my bedsheets. Moisture lifted on my skin and blood thundered in my temples.

My gaze shifted to the clock on the nightstand.

Eight hours had passed since I’d shot the acting boss of the Flynn Syndicate and exposed the family’s darkest secret.

I cradled my rosary to my pounding heart.

I was still alive. At least for now anyway.

But how long before Raphael remedied that? Or was the decision of whether I lived or died up to Lucifer? Was he the boss? And if he was—would that change anything? Would he request my surrender or force my submission?

I’d blown up his entire world with my accusations, and if he chose to believe his twin brother over me, that would mean he’d consider what I’d done to be an unforgivable betrayal. That I’d twisted the details of his pain and weaponized it. That I’d tried to manipulate him.

He’d forever see me as a Brennan.

These were the fears that’d kept my mind racing and my tears streaming until exhaustion took me under.

The worst part? Nothing was farther from the truth.

There were so many ways I could have leveraged the Flynn family lie. So many opportunities to sway Lucifer to my side. But I’d never considered them. Not seriously. I meant what I said when I’d told Lucifer that I wanted him to choose me because he loved me and not because he hated Raphael.

And he’d done that. Hadn’t he?

I’d told Lucifer the truth about his mother because in that moment I’d wanted him to feel the same freedom from his past that I’d felt from mine. I’d found liberation in the study. Not because I’d shot Raphael—and not because his life had been mine to take if I’d wanted it. Something transformative happened between the time I’d put a bullet in Lucifer’s brother and when I’d blurted the truth about their mother.

Call it an awakening. A revelation.

Death had been my only escape when it came to Tiernan. One of us had to die, and I’d wanted to live; therefore, murder had been my only option.

I didn’t feel remorse because he didn’t deserve it. I felt consolation because I did.

And I liked that feeling.

For ten years, all I’d experienced was suffering, but after killing Tiernan, a part of me that had perished along with my parents had been revived.

And I’d wanted more. I’d thought I needed more.

To convince myself I wasn’t the same breed of monster as the Brennans and Flynns, I’d called it justice.

But shooting Raphael offered me nothing. It gave me no relief, no satisfaction. Because I’d been wrong. I’d never needed justice.

Justice wasn’t healing.

Healing began when someone bore witness. I’d just needed someone to listen. To hear me. To believe me.

Lucifer had given me that. And after he did, he’d all but professed his love to me.

I should have stopped there. After I’d dropped the gun, I should have taken Lucifer’s hand and let him lead me upstairs so I could confess his innocence in private.

But I didn’t. And now, we may never have that opportunity again.

The memory of Lucifer ordering Keegan to remove me from the study came flooding back. His voice had been controlled, but he hadn’t been calm. He couldn’t put space between us fast enough. Not even the devil’s default mask could hide the damage I’d done.

Raphael had been honest about one thing: there are punishments far greater than your own death.

Any lingering hope flickered and died as my heart turned into a pile of ash.

Trying to escape the discomfort in my chest, I rolled onto my side and faced the row of windows.

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