Page 46 of Final Vendetta

I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”

“Does she really have Samuel back?”

“Of course she does. I walked away from my plan. Even after the break-in, I haven’t asked you to put your skills to use and track down Liam so I could end him, even if I’ve fantasized about it.”

“That may be true, but that doesn’t mean you’re the same person you were all those years ago.”

“But—”

“She’s not the same person, either,” he continued before I could finish my thought. “You’ve both changed. You’ve both been through some pretty horrible shit, especially you. You can’t just expect to bury that part of yourself and pretend it never existed. You can’t expect her to, either.”

I parted my lips to argue once more, and again he interjected before I could.

“I get it, man. You’re trying to do the right thing. But you can’t just act like the past never happened. It’s part of you, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t want to be that man anymore,” I said, my voice tight. “Imogene deserves better than that.”

“But it sounds like Imogene doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want just Samuel or just Gideon. She wants all of you. Shelovesall of you. The good, the bad, the messy. That’s what love is. Remember how you felt when you learned Turner hit her? When you saw her being wheeled into the hospital on that stretcher? When you didn’t know if she’d wake up?”

I swallowed hard, not wanting to go back to that night. I’d done everything in my power to forget about it. To move on from my biggest regret.

“Remember that feeling. Because if you keep trying to cut off parts of yourself to fit into some mold of what you think she deserves, youwilllose her. After everything you’ve been through, is thatreallywhat you want?”

Chapter Twenty

Imogene

The comforting aroma of sugar and vanilla enveloped me as I rolled out the dough for yet another batch of cookies. The countertops were a mess. Flour dusted every surface, bowls and measuring spoons scattered everywhere. A tower of cookies sat cooling on a rack, alongside a tray of cupcakes waiting to be frosted.

Baking had always been my solace, a way to calm my nerves and find peace in the midst of chaos or uncertainty.

Not tonight.

After my argument with Gideon, nothing could calm me. I kept replaying it over in my head. Each time, his words cut deeper than before.

Was I wrong to tell him how I felt? To want him to be someone he might not be anymore?

But I didn’t think that was the case. If anything, it felt like he was trying to be someone he wasn’t. I didn’t want him to pretend anymore. I wanted him to be free to be who he was, even if that man had a dangerous streak.

The front door creaked open, cutting through the stillness. I glanced at the clock on the stove to see it was nearly two in themorning. Gideon had been gone for hours, and I hadn’t heard his car pull into the driveway.

I froze, the cookie cutter poised mid-air, my heart slamming against my ribs as I strained to listen. Then I heard footsteps, faint but unmistakable.

It couldn’t be Gideon. He never moved like that — slow, methodical. His steps were always brisk and purposeful.

I scanned the room, frantically searching for something I could use to defend myself. My eyes landed on a rolling pin sitting on the edge of the counter. Not an ideal weapon, but it was better than nothing.

The footsteps grew closer, and I snatched the rolling pin, gripping it as tight as I could. The air seemed to thicken, the hum of the oven fading beneath the pounding of my pulse.

I positioned myself just around the corner, ready to strike at whoever emerged from the hallway.

Another step. Then another. Then a shadow stretched into view. My grip tightened on the rolling pin and I held my breath.

Then the stranger stepped into the light.

But it wasn’t a stranger after all.

“Imogene?”

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