Page 224 of Sinful Pleasure

I needed answers—answers he clearly didn’t want to give me.

But after a long, heavy sigh, he finally surrendered, dropping his shoulders in defeat. He leaned his body onto the table, hands braced against it, his abs tightening in a way that almost made me lose my train of thought.

“My men took him far away from here,” he finally admitted, his voice even, his eyes unwavering as they locked with mine.

I exhaled a shaky breath. “Is he alive?”

“Yes,” he replied, pausing for a long moment before adding, “Barely.”

My heart skipped a beat.Barely?

“Why did you take him away from here without my permission?”

“Because I didn’t want you to see him like this,” he answered quickly, hisvoice low and steady, but there was something else in his eyes… guilt?

I took a few steps closer to him—until I was standing right in front of him. I cupped his face in my hands, locking my gaze with his as I gently stroked his cheek. I offered him a small, comforting smile—one that I hoped would reassure him.

Something told me he needed this more than ever.

“It’s okay,” I whispered softly against his lips, “you can tell me.”

He shook his head, his eyes closing as if my words physically pained him. Seeing Maddox this vulnerable was… new, and unsettling.

He leaned in, seeking my touch with an almost desperate need. The silence in the room stretched between us, but I let him have it.

I could tell he was struggling with himself, fighting something deep inside, and for a moment, I just wanted him to feel safe.

“I almost killed him, Allyn,” he confessed, his voice trembling. ‘’I don’t know what got into me, but I was so close to ending his life, even though I gave you my word that I wouldn’t.”

His voice faltered with every word, and my heart sank with him. I could hear the pain in his confession, the agony of his inner battle.

“The moment I started hitting him, I just couldn’t stop. I did it again and again—until my hands and my shirt were soaked in his blood, and he was barely breathing.”

My hands trembled as I listened to his words, but I didn’t stop caressing his cheeks. He relaxed against my touch, his body stiffening as he spoke—but still seeking my comfort.

“Then I saw you in his bloody face,” he continued, his voice raw, “and that was the only fucking thing that saved his life. It was you, not me.”

“I thought I was hurting you,”

“I thought it was you.”

“You saved him, not me,”

He repeated, the guilt seeping deeper with every word.

He kept repeating those words. His body shook in my arms, eyes soft and filled with regret. I pressed myself closer, my heart breaking at the weight of his pain.

“I don’t spare lives. I’m made to kill and torture. I’m a monster—not a savior.”

His words felt like daggers in my chest, each one deeper than the last.

The burden of his past—the manipulations, the violence, the war he’d fought with his own soul—was consuming him. He was trying to fight it, but it was slowly tearing him apart.

“No, stop,” I whispered, resting my forehead against his. I kissed his lips gently, willing him to hear me. “You’re not a monster, Maddox. I don’t ever want to hear you call yourself that.”

“I just told you I almost killed your father, and you’re still looking me in the eyes, denying it?”

The pain in his words shattered me, but I refused to let go of him. His eyes searched mine for a way out, for an excuse to pull away.

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