Page 206 of The Sinner's Bargain

When there were no more phantom hands or the lingering scent of jasmine, I swallowed and went to do what I’d left my wife’s loving arms to do.

Oliver stood in the center of four heavily armed guards, his left arm cradled in a white sling that glowed too bright against his dark suit. No one was talking, but I knew many of them had known Oliver for years. He’d been cared for and respected. That only made his decision to do what he was doing all the more baffling.

“We’re fine,” I told them, and I could tell some of them were relieved not to have to witness what I needed to do.

“I am sorry, Thoran,” Oliver said after several minutes of us walking silently along the lake’s edge. “I never in a million years wanted to hurt you.”

“Why did you do it?” I asked, watching the moon shimmer off the dark water.

“What?”

“All of it.”

Oliver drew in a quiet breath of deliberation that sounded sad but accepting. “Would you believe I was trying to do the right thing?”

I considered it.

“No,” I decided. “People doing the right thing don’t hurt other people, especially people they care about.”

“That is also correct,” Oliver mused. “I suppose two things can be true. What I did to Abby will always be my failure, my shame and guilt. My sin. I would have given my life in her place if I could.”

“And the others?”

Oliver exhaled heavily. “I never took any joy from hurting any of them. It was never a pleasure. I hated myself every time, but I love you, Thoran.”

I steeled myself against the stab in my chest. “You wouldn’t have spent the last nineteen years letting me think I was cursed if you did. I’m not sure you know what that word means, Uncle.”

“It means I did my best to protect you. Unlike your father, I shielded you from the horrible things in the world.”

“The horrible things you were doing?”

“To help people,” Oliver stressed. “Only to help. That is all I have ever wanted. To save people.”

“You tried to kill Naya. The woman I love more than my own next breath.”

His silence was longer. It lasted a dozen steps before he broke it.

“I really like her. Right from the beginning, I thought Abby would have loved her, but it couldn’t last. Every time I thought maybe this time I would be left in peace...” he shook his head. “My work was too important. You were too important. I asked you to let her go. I begged you—”

I stopped and faced him in the soft hum of night, willing my temper to remain at a simmer. “If I had lost the manor, what would you have done? I needed a wife. You saw how close I was to losing everything because of you. What would you have done if Ronin owned Lacroix House right now? He wouldn’t have let you stay.”

“You are right, of course,” Oliver murmured. “My decisions in some cases were rash. I tried to reason and bargain. I gave them all a chance, I really did, Thoran. But they all disappointed.”

There was no doubt in my mind that he was sick. I wondered for how long and how I never noticed. He spoke so rationally, like he believed everything he said, but he wasn’t well. He couldn’t be. Not with those things in the barrels that my men had to put out of their pain and dump in the swamps. No sane person did that.

“Could we visit Abby’s roses? I haven’t been in so long and I would like to see her.”

I allowed his final request.

I took my uncle, the last family connecting me to my mom through the maze to where the silver roses gleamed under the moonlight. Oliver smiled as he stood over the small bush and peered down into their chrome petals.

“I remember the afternoon your mom planted these. She’d been so excited when they started blooming.” Gingerly, the other man lowered himself down on one knee and reached under the bush to pluck out a weed. “She would be so proud of the man you’ve become, Thoran. Don’t ever forget that.”

I bit the inside of my cheek as my fingers curled around the handle of my gun.

I didn’t hesitate or say a word when I pulled the trigger.

Naya was waiting for me at the top of the stairs when I returned. Wary. Hollowed out. Her blue eyes were wet. She wore one of my t-shirts. Her toes bare.

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