Page 43 of Dear John

Screams filled the air, and I was only half aware that they were being ripped from my throat. I shoved off the ground and spun, desperate for something to cling to, some form of hope that would get me through. My brother was dead. My husband was dead. All of it was my fault. If I had only been better, none of this would have happened.

Something pricked my upper arm, plunging me into a fog that made me forget why I was screaming. Everything slowed around me as I stumbled, shoving things out of my way to get out. But I wasn’t strong enough. My legs gave out and I collapsed, only to find myself staring up into the dark eyes that belonged to Hudson.

“You’re here,” I whispered, feeling a tear trek down my cheek.

“I’ll always be here.”

16

KNIGHT

“What the fuck did you do?”Michael hissed after I laid Isabelle down in her bed to sleep off the medicine. I shut the door and scowled at him.

“I did what was necessary. She was out of her fucking mind.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he snapped. “Why the fuck would you take her out of the compound like that? She’s been traumatized enough.”

My gaze snapped to my so-called father and I snarled at him, ready to beat the shit out of him if I had to. “And you think locking her up like that asshole did is the way to go?”

“I think keeping her safe until she’s comfortable is the way to go.”

“You don’t have a fucking say in this,” I snapped. “I’ve taken over.”

He grabbed me by the shirt and slammed me against the wall, but I quickly countered, kicking my boot into his knee and forcing him to the ground.

“Don’t you ever fucking put your hands on me.”

The man rose, but it wasn’t my father I was staring at. No, this was Shadow, the man I had heard so much about. The lethal look on his face would scare me if I was anyone else. But I hadhis blood running through my veins, and I’d already dealt with too much shit to let the glare on his face scare me.

“She’s my daughter.”

“And you fucked that up for thirteen years. It’s time to let the big boys take over.”

Before I knew it, his hands were around my throat and he was squeezing like he wanted to kill me.

“Do it,” I snarled, sick of this twisted game we were playing where he pretended to give a fuck about me. “Go ahead and fucking squeeze. I know you’ve always wanted to.”

His hands tightened for only a moment before he suddenly stepped back and dropped his hands. They were shaking furiously, and as he shoved them in his pockets, he closed his eyes, sucking in a breath to gain control.

“You’re too fucking raw to deal with this shit. Rafe is dead, and from what Fox tells me, Cash has fucking lost it. Go deal with him before he fucks up everything in his life. I’ll deal with Isabelle.”

He took another step back, scrubbing his hand down his face. “She needs someone gentle?—”

“She needs someone to get her out of her head. Sticking around this fucking compound may be safe, but it’s not doing anything to help her move on.”

“That fucking asshole screwed with her head,” he sighed. “The sooner we can make her forget?—”

“That’s not going to happen anytime soon. She doesn’t see him the same way we do.”

His eyes narrowed on me. “She needs to see the truth.”

“Her truth or our truth?” I countered. “If you shove this down her throat, she’s only going to pull back from us.”

“So, you’re going to let her continue to think that the twisted fuck that called himself her husband was a good guy?”

“I’m not saying a damn word. When she needs to talk, I fucking let her,” I snarled. “She spent thirteen years with him. Screaming at her that what she knew was all a fucked up lie isn’t going to help.”

“Christ,” he muttered, sliding his fingers through his hair. “Rafe would beat the shit out of me if he saw the state Isabelle is in.”

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