Page 53 of Revenge

She listens until I’m all talked out, never once showing me pity or seeing me as weak for failing to protect them. Her finger draws lazy circles over my chest as we lie in comfortable silence, letting everything I’ve said linger between us. Things feel like they’re finally falling into place, but nothing is ever that easy.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Charlee

“My father might have been a lot of things, but he would never have hurt her or your unborn child.” I know it down to my soul. My father had a rule about hurting women and children.

“I was there, Charlee. It was his men who carried out the orders—orders given by him.” He snorts and I can sense the mood changing in the room.

I shake my head, undeterred by his anger. “No. He wouldn’t have done that,” I repeat with more conviction than before.

Asher shoves his legs into a pair of jeans and storms out of the room into the small office. I grip the sheet tighter against my chest and wonder if I should chase after him, but it isn’t long before I hear his footsteps echo against the wooden floor. The rage behind his eyes the second he comes back in should frighten me, but I’m too focused on the manila folder in his hand to think about anything else.

He tosses the folder onto the bed in front of me and stands with his fists clenched at his sides. “This is what those bastards did to her and my unborn son.”

Taking a deep breath, I flip open the folder. Dozens of pictures fall out and I’m not prepared for what I see. Tears pool in my eyes as my hand flies up to my mouth. Nausea churns in my stomach the longer I stare at the images. This is like something out of a horror movie. Blood is everywhere. From the carpet to the white comforter, it stains it all. The body of a woman with a very pregnant belly is lying limp on the bed with multiple stab wounds all over her chest.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Asher.” Bile inches its way up my throat. I can’t imagine what he went through that night.

A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he doesn’t move otherwise. Pain is etched onto every line of his face and my heart shatters into a million pieces for him.

I shift the folder onto my lap and another photograph slips out. This one is of two men. Two men I’ve seen hanging around. “I know them.”

“Of course you do. They work for that piece of shit, Diego.”

“No. They don’t.” I shake my head and do my best to ignore the insult about my father. Asher’s anger is understandable, even though it’s misplaced. “They work for Marco.”

Asher’s nostrils flare as he lets my words sink in. His head shakes back and forth so hard that I’m surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. “No!” His body trembles as he loses all self-control. The next thing I know, he has me by the throat and slammed up against the nearest wall. My feet dangle as my toes barely graze the floor. It’s not lost on me that I was in this exact position the first time we met.

“You’re lying. Those are the bastards who killed her, and your father is the one who gave the order.” His face dips so close to mine that I can feel the whisper soft touch of his lips against mine as he speaks. Cold air hits my naked body, but I don’t break eye contact.

My heart hammers against my chest as he stares at me with those hard, dead eyes, but I swallow down my emotions and keep trying to reach him. “I’m not. I know all of my father’s men and they are not his. I’ve seen Marco hanging around them, but my dad would never give those two the time of day.” Every word comes out slow and careful, a silent plea for him to hear me, hear the truth in my words. The hair from his arm tickles my nipple with every breath I take as I wait to see how this plays out.

“No.” Asher’s hanging on by a thread, but he needs to believe me. He’s hated the wrong man all this time. His fingers flex deeper into the sides of my neck as he struggles to come to terms with the bomb I’ve just dropped on him. The fist of his other hand comes up and punches the wall next to my head, going right through it.

My body flinches, but I don’t move otherwise. He won’t hurt me. Not like that. At least not anymore.

“What happened to your family was awful and nobody should ever have to go through that, but it’s the truth. I swear to you on my life.”

His slow shallow breathing is the only sound that stretches between us as his mind works through and processes things. Tension leaves his body and the second it does, the hand around my throat goes lax, but I don’t move.

“Fuck!” He collapses onto the floor and puts his hands on top of his head. Blood seeps out of his split knuckles and drips down his wrists, but he doesn’t appear to feel it.

I kneel down next to him and take his bloody hand in mine. Words aren’t necessary. Silence speaks louder than they ever could. I let him mourn. Mourn for the loss of his family, for the loss of an innocent child. And for the loss of a life he never got to live.

“It’s okay, Asher.”

“No, it’s not. Nothing about this is okay. I was so sure it was him and—and I took you.” He swallows and shakes his head. “I’m no fucking better than they are.”

Seeing his pain is like a knife to my chest. He may have started out as the devil, as the one who tried to ruin me, but he’s become my savior. I take his face in my hands and force him to meet my gaze. “Listen to me. You are nothing like them. Do you hear me? Nothing. They did this. Not you. Them. If anybody should be feeling guilty, it’s the monsters who killed your family. You’re a good man, Asher Savage, and I’ll be damned if I let you think otherwise.”

His eyes gloss over as his hands grab the sides of my face. He presses his lips against mine and devours my mouth, hard and demanding. He’s taking, but he’s also giving at the same time. All of his emotions, words unspoken, are being poured out into this kiss. My heart soars with every touch of his tongue. There’s no doubt of his feelings for me. When he pulls back, my lips feel swollen and bruised, and beg for more.

He presses his forehead against mine and sighs. “You’re mine, Charlee. I’m not giving you up without a fight.”

Our heavy breathing fills the room as I relish his warmth. My hands rub the back of his neck, letting this moment—our moment—linger. Then his phone rings, shattering the silence.

Asher’s eyes narrow as he takes it out of his pocket and looks at the number. He holds it up to his ear and lets out a gruff, “Yeah?” His body tenses next to mine. “I’m on my way.” Just as quickly as he ends the call, he stands, and I follow. Without a word, he kisses me on the top of the head and toward the open door.

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