Page 55 of His Sinner

She barks a laugh. “Trevor? Really? You’re trying to pin this on him now?”

I drag my hands through my hair, turning on my heel to pace before I scream in frustration. What the fuck do I need to tell her to convince her I wouldn’t do something like this? How many more days of my life do I need to spend convincing her that I’m better than the man she thinks I am?

“Yes. April fucked him for information. That’s how she got your address. You have no idea what that man is capable of, Briar. His father was a DA in California. He’s been violating girls since he was a minor, and he was fired from a police department for abusing his power with vulnerable women. He has a folder full of pictures of a woman with dark brown hair just like yours. So yes, Trevor broke into my house, bribed April to fuck him, and sent the video to you to frame me. He wants us apart so he can have you for himself. You’re the replacement for the woman he likely killed.”

Her mouth morphs into a snarl. “That’s ridiculous. He’s never even expressed a modicum of interest in me. And now you’re accusing him of being a killer? You’re the murderer here.”

“He’s biding his time.” My sharp tone only makes her eyes narrow further. “He’s waiting until he’s sure you’ll give him what he wants.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t believe you.”

Deep down, Briar has been waiting for me to prove that she’s right about love. To disappoint her, to betray her, to verify the false belief she’s always held—that I’ll hurt her. That loving me isn’t worth the risk.

I cross the room before she can run from me, grabbing her arms and squeezing. My heart is fucking shattering, and I can’t take the agony of it for another second. “I didn’t do this to you, Briar. I don’t know what I have to say or do to convince you, but I vowed I would never hurt you and I will never break a vow to you.”

She trembles in my hands. The heartbreak in her eyes rips me apart, my own stinging with hot tears. This can’t be fucking happening. We haven’t come this far for her to turn her back on me now. To despise me.

“Let me go,” she demands.

The knot in my chest tightens, but I do as she requests, even as the act of letting her go fractures my soul. “Tell me what I can do. Tell me how to fix this.”

I’ll do anything she asks. Drop to my knees and beg. Write her a hundred books. Give her the keys to Nicholson Manor. Hand her all the proof of Trevor’s transgressions.

Anything.

Briar lifts her chin, blue eyes boring into me. “Let me kill you.”

Silence falls between us. We stare at each other, unmoving.

After everything I’ve done for her, everything I’ve made her feel, every sacrifice I’ve made, this is how she wants to write our ending. Not dying of old age in bed together, holding hands as our souls leave our bodies behind for the afterlife. But here, in this house.

With a knife in her hand as she drags it across my throat.

When the fire raging in her eyes doesn’t extinguish, I head for the kitchen. She’s on my heels as I reach the block of knives and pull one free with a soft hiss.

She stiffens, edging back along the wall like she’s going to make a run for it as I head in her direction.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Her voice shakes.

When I reach her, I stop and hold out the handle. “I told you if you wanted to kill me, I’d hand you the knife.”

With a shaking hand, she takes it, staring down at the glinting blade.

If she kills me, it will be a merciful death. Because I can’t imagine living another day without her. A life without my muse isn’t one worth living.

“You’re my everything. If I don’t have you, I’m nothing. I said I’d give you anything you want. If you want my blood on your hands, you can spill it. If you want the light to leave my eyes, you can extinguish it.”

Her hand trembles, the knife with it.

Her fantasies are flashing through her mind. Of spilling my blood. Of spilling April’s. Getting revenge on those who’ve hurt her. A woman so tired of being hurt.

The handle slips from her fist, clattering to the floor.

Briar strides to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob without glancing back at me. “The next time I see your fucking face, you’re leaving in handcuffs or a body bag. Get out of my house.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

BRIAR

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