Page 68 of Brutal Savior

We’ve been to dinner with Eve, Gabriel, and Sebastian like normal people. I’ve been for coffee with Eve, Annie, and a couple of the other Wards. It’s the weirdest feeling, as if I’m becoming part of a secret club I never signed up for.

The worst part is, sometimes I’m actually happy.

Jacob strides back in, and the look on his face sets me on edge right away. Normally, he’s so collected. Now he looks shaken. “What is it? Bad news?”

“No. Not this time.” He doesn’t even glance at the ball in the cup as he sits down next to me. “It’s Marlowe. They’ve noted eye movement, and she’s made a few sounds. Her eyes have opened for a couple of seconds at a time.”

It’s a glass of water after months in the desert. I latch on to it, letting it wash away some of the filth that’s clung to me since that night.Please. Please let her be okay.

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high, love. It’s a very positive sign but it’s not definitive. And even if she wakes up, we don’t know what life will look like for her after.” His hand grips mine, swallowing it whole. “She’s in the best place to recover, though.”

He’s so earnest. He thinks I’m innocent, a victim just like Marlowe. He doesn’t know. The filthy secret twists in my stomach, squirming like a parasite. I want it out. I need it out.

I couldn’t tell anyone else. But Jacob? He’s no fucking angel. He’s made me his slave. He’s guilty, just like me. Tears come, bubbling out of me in rough sobs at the thought of even saying the words.

Jacob wraps me up tight. His big body is so reassuring. A cuddle from a giant. I shake in his arms as he rubs my back. “Hey. It’s good news, I just didn’t want to make you think it was a done deal. It’s really good news, love.”

The secret is there, a black, poisonous snake, and I vomit it up all at once. “It’s my fault. My fault she got hurt.”

My words are muffled by Jacob’s shoulder, and he loosens his arms, frowning down at me. “What do you mean?”

Now that I’ve started, I can hardly breathe before I’m spilling the words out. “I was drinking, and I drove. It was so fucking stupid. She warned me to slow down, but I ignored her. She went through the windshield, and I lied to the cops. I lied.”

A fresh surge of tears catches up with me, but his arms don’t loosen. He holds me just as tight as he was before I gave up my dirty secret. “I had two prior DUIs, and I panicked. I told them she was driving.”

There it is—the truth. Jacob’s hand twines in my hair, and he just holds me. Tears give way to more muffled words.

“I cut my foster family off after. They’re better off without me. They loved me like I was theirs, and I—”

Sobs catch me again. I focus on the steady rise and fall of Jacob’s chest as I run myself dry. When he speaks, his voice rumbles against my body. “Is that why you started smashing the drugs? Punishing yourself by risking your own life?”

“I just wanted to forget.” It’s true, but maybe not the whole truth. Maybe he’s right. Why do I deserve to live after what I did? “But maybe that too. A bit.”

“Fucking hell, Quinn.” He kisses the top of my head. It’s such an unexpected, gentle move that it jerks me out of my tears for a second, long enough for me to twist my neck up and look Jacob in the face.

There’s no judgment there, just a creased brow and soft lines of worry at the corners of his eyes. His frown deepens as he wipes a tear from my face with one rough finger.

“I’ve done bad shit too. Much worse than that. I’m not going to tell you it’s easy to live with, but it does get better. And you know what else?”

I wait as he pauses, seeming to hunt for the right words. “You telling the lie didn’t make a blind bit of difference. Her outcomewould have been the same. But you being here? That’s made all the difference. If things keep going the right direction, there’s a good chance she’s going to be okay. And that’s thanks to you.”

I snort. “Right. My great contribution. Getting kidnapped by mistake.”

“Shut the fuck up and actually listen.” There’s the very edge of histake no shittone in those words, though he’s still stroking my head. It’s an odd combination that makes me melt into him, my body relaxing for what feels like the first time ever. Telling him has helped. The black crust around my heart is still there, but it’s thinner. There’s a bit of light getting in.

I keep quiet and wait. “We took your freedom. It wasn’t your choice, but it’s happened. And because of that, Marlowe has a chance. However you want to think of being here—paying a price, serving a sentence, whatever—it’s helping her. If you were rotting in a prison cell, you wouldn’t be helping her at all.”

It’s a neat way to look at things, designed to soothe a guilty conscience. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

Serving my sentence.

The phrase scratches at my nerves. Jacob said it, practical man that he is, without any self pity. He’s been painfully blunt from day one that I’m his captive, never trying to sugarcoat this into something it isn’t. I respect him for it. But at the same time, hearing him talk as if he’s my penalty doesn’t feel quite right.

His forest-green eyes study me closely. Following a strange urge, I reach up and touch his face. His eyes widen as I trace the strong outline of his jaw, up to his lips. I want to make him smile again. There’s something about making this stern man smile that’s just so satisfying.

“As prisons go, I’m not sure how I’d rate this one.”

“Really? Do explain. I’m dying to hear this.”

---