Page 122 of Fracture

“I thought not.” Dylan puts a hand on my chest. “I’m sorry, baby.”

The wordbabymakes my heart hurt. Because he didn’t want to hurt me when he told me about my family, about the video of Stella my grandfather had on his phone. But he could see it in my face when he told me what that piece of shit rapist had told him.

I’d already known my family was an endless mire of filth, debauched and ruined, beyond anything good. But to hear that, to know my grandfather paid someone to rape my girl, and then paid someone to beat her within an inch of her life to kill the baby they thought she was carrying - I swear to god, it’s like I don’t even have a soul anymore. I just want to kill, and hurt, and make every single last one of them bleed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dylan sighs, rolling on to his back and throwing an arm over his head. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

Another sigh. “I felt guilty.”

I roll on to my side, barely able to make out his silhouette in the dark. “Guilty?”

“In… In the video. She was calling out for me.” He runs a hand over his face, letting it thud back on to the bed. “She was calling for me, and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there for her, when she needed me. She was a mess, she was so lost, and it was all my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault, it wasourfault.”

Dylan swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up, leaning heavily on his knees. “No, you still don’t get it. I left her that night, I left her after she had cried and begged me to never tell anyone what happened. I betrayed her, and I left her, and I pulled you into it, and this whole fucking mess is my fault.” He sucks in a heavy breath, cradling his head in his hands. “I had to fix it, OK? Me. Just me.”

“No, not just you.” I move to put a hand against his back, leaning closer when he doesn’t move away. “Listen to me, this isn’t your fault. This is Harold’s fault, and my mother’s fault, and fucking Oswald’s fault. All of it. We’re just the pawns, stuck in their sick and twisted little games.”

Dylan’s shoulders slump further, as though the hopelessness within him has taken a physical form and is weighing down on him. “I left her alone again, to go and kill some nothing asshole. She could have died because of me.”

“Stop!” I grip his shoulders and force him to look at me, cupping his jaw in my hand when he refuses. My eyes have adjusted enough in the darkness to see his face, heavy and sad, brows drawn together. “Listen to me, this was not you. You did what you had to do, and now we know, we fuckingknowwhat they all did, and how far they went. They deserve everything they’re about to get, and none of that is your fault. None of it, do you understand?”

“Levi-”

“Do you understand?” I grip his face harder, pulling him closer so our foreheads rest against each other. “I love you, and I love her, and we’re going to get through this, and we’re going to be happy. I am not letting you bring this guilt with you.”

“I’m the one who kills Oswald.”

I nod, and he lets out a sigh. “He’s yours. I’ll watch, gladly.”

“Thank you.” He lifts his mouth to meet mine, kissing me slowly at first, the slightest quiver of his lips betraying the emotion coursing through him.

My phone vibrates on the nightstand, and we break the kiss instantly. I snatch the phone up and press it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Mr Fenton?” A woman’s voice sounds down the line.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“This is Dr Gable, from Mercy General. I’m calling to let you know that your sister’s awake, and she’s asking for you.”

CHAPTER 29

DYLAN

Stella’s handis so small in mine. I gently stroke her fingers, over her cracked and broken nails. My girl’s a fighter. She fought them with everything she had.

“I’m going to take you to get these nails done as soon as they let you out,” I tell her with a smile.

She scoffs out a laugh, gazing at me with swollen eyes. Her lip is split, and bruises line the left side of her face.

“I think I might need a facial, too,” she whispers, her voice rough and cracking.

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