Page 79 of Shattered Vows

Everyone I love always leaves me. First my mother, then Asher when he skipped off to boarding school and left us to deal with our father, and now Rapsody—twice.

Chapter

Thirty-Two

RAPSODY

Ibarely slept at all after Kol’s confessions last night. It’s hard to reconcile the man I know Kol to be with the one he described last night. Sure, I’ve witnessed what he’s like when he’s bent on revenge—the man kidnapped me from my own wedding. But a killer? That’s something else entirely.

Of course, isn’t that exactly why I ran from him after my mother showed me article after article about his father?

I don’t know what went down with his father, but from his reaction last night, that’s not something he’ll ever discuss. Unlike the other three people he killed.

The idea of carting around those men’s bodies and dumping them in the middle of the Gulf makes me nauseous. What about their families? They’ll always wonder what happened to their loved one.

But then I think of what Kol said happened and how if he hadn’t acted, there’s a good chance that maybe Asher or Anabelle might not be here today. Then the Voss family would be the ones mourning. I try to put myself in Kol’s position and consider what I might do if I found myself in the same circumstance. Would I make myself a monster to protect someone I love?

I think I would.

I know for certain that if it came down to Kol or someone else, I would choose Kol and deal with the fallout from my actions after the fact. Given that, how can I possibly pass judgment on him?

Last night, I got the impression that Kol was set on pushing me away by telling me all the worst parts of himself. But I’ve seen the good parts of him as well. I know there’s more beneath the surface, even if I’m the only one who gets to see it. I don’t care.

I fully expected Kol to come see me at some point today, but he must be leaving it up to me to come to him when I’m ready. And I’m ready.

It’s evening by the time I shower, dress, and put on some light makeup to head next door to his room. I knock, and when he doesn’t answer, I poke my head in. “Kol?”

When I get no reply, I enter the room to make sure he’s not in the bathroom showering or getting changed in the closet. He’s nowhere to be found, though he’s been here recently—his scent still lingers, along with the smell of alcohol. I suppose I’ll wait for him to return. I don’t want to leave this any longer than I already have. He needs to hear what I have to say.

A quick sweep of the place tells me he’s been drinking—there’s a bottle spilled over on the floor near his desk. I bend down to pick up the bottle and notice his phone is on the floor too. He must have been pretty drunk when he left his room then. I straighten and set both on his desk.

When I do, my name on a piece of paper catches my attention. Frowning, I set the bottle aside and pick up the sheet.

What the…

Utter shock ricochets through my body, loosening my grip, and the paper floats to the floor, landing in the puddle of whiskey near my feet. My breathing picks up and my chest constricts, then I hear my name in a rushed whisper.

I whirl around to see my mother dressed in one of the same uniforms the housekeepers wear, standing in the doorway. My throat closes in on itself.

“Rapsody, come on. We have to get out of here.” She urges me with her hand, then looks over her shoulder. When I don’t go to her, she gets a frustrated glare and rushes to me, grabbing my arm.

“What’s happening?” I can’t get my thoughts together after what I’ve just seen. After the secret I know Kol has been keeping from me.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

My mother leads me out of the bedroom, and I can’t do or say anything. I can only concentrate on my breathing and try to squeeze any tiny amount of air into my lungs that I’m able. My chest is so tight, I fear a panic attack is coming.

When I stop and bend over, gasping for air, my mother reprimands me and drags me forward.

No, no, no. I want to scream, but I can’t. I can’t!

I need to get control of this, or I’ll pass out and who knows what will happen then. I’m already tripping over my feet from the brute strength my mother pulls me along with, one I wasn’t aware she possessed. She pulls me outside, and I trip, stumbling on the patio, going down and skinning my hands and knees.

“Jesus, get up. We don’t have much time!” my mother snaps, yanking my arm to get me to stand.

I ignore her as best I can and concentrate on slowing my breathing. My chest loosens—just a bit, but I’ll take it. I count in my head, matching my breathing to the numbers until I can breathe well enough to look at my mother.

Her attention flickers from me to the manor and back, eyes wide. “Get up. Let’s go.”

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