Page 63 of Vendetta

My muscles coiled as I spotted the shattered window of Landry’s BMW. Broken glass littered the driveway, crunching under our boots as we made our way up both sets of steps. I stopped in front of the double doors of the classical white mansion and rasped my knuckles against the solid wood. Kaptan had remotely disabled the Senator’s cameras, something that could easily be blamed on the storms last night.

Not hearing any movement inside, I reached for the handle before pushing my way inside and taking a look around. Nothing seemed out of place as I made my way through Landry’s family home, Kaptan and Zayn on my heels.

Something hadn’t sat right with me since watching the video last night. I had played Arthur’s words in my head over and over, constantly turning over one part in particular.

It should have been you, not her.

It made me think back to a different video, the one where Landry had paid those Stoneridge girls a visit.

We had no choice.

None of it sat right with me. Two prominent families had lost a daughter and a wife that same night. And maybe I was looking too much into this, seeking answers that weren’t there, but my gut told me that there was more to it. And Arthur was going to give me answers.

The bastard had probably drunk himself to sleep after chasing off his daughter last night, and I was ready to make him pay for what he had put her through.

Making my way up the stairs, I silently peeked inside each room before finding the master bedroom and making my way inside.

Early morning sun beamed through the sheer curtains, lighting the room with a dim glow. Arthur Andrews was in bed just as I’d suspected, sleeping soundly on top of his sheets in what I assumed to be the same suit he wore in the video last night. What hadn’t been there last night, though, was the gaping bullet hole in his temple.

I stopped in my tracks, absorbing the sight in front of me. The gun he must have used sat on the ground by the bed, directly below his limp hand. Senator Arthur Andrews was dead.

CHAPTER 33

LANDRY

A few things happened earlier today. The police showed up at my door to announce that my father had taken his own life last night. His assistant had apparently found him after showing up to the house when he didn’t answer his phone all morning.

They also asked me about the broken glass in the driveway and shattered car window, to which I had told them the truth about what had happened. They concluded that he had been so overwhelmed with the anniversary of his wife’s death, and then horrified by his own actions towards me, that he ended his own life.

You would think I would be phased, that I would have broken down and wept. But I hadn’t. I was numb. I loved my dad once upon a time, but those memories had all been tainted.

Then, a doctor came to check on me, to make sure I was doing okay. He had put some ointment on the shredded soles of my feet and given me some electrolytes for the recovery. At onepoint, he tried to assess my mental health, asking the same questions I had been asked countless times throughout my life. I told him what he wanted to hear—Olivia by my side the entire time in Cashton’s bed.

She had asked a few more times if I had wanted to talk about it, but I shook my head each time. I wasn’t ready to talk yet. I wasn’t ready to face any of it. I had been forced to do so last night, and it had driven me to this state. Instead, I let myself drift back off.

A soft knock woke me from my slumber, my heavy eyes blinking open to find Cashton at the entrance of the bedroom. He wore his typical hoodie with a denim jacket over the top, his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he leaned in the doorway.

“How are you feeling, princess?” he asked, and my heart skipped a beat. I was mortified. I had spent the entire day in his bed, after promising that I would stay away from him completely. And now I was in his house, in his bedroom, in his freaking bed.

Olivia looked between the two of us, a playful smirk on her face.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a moment,” she offered, lifting the covers and rolling out of the bed before making her way past Cashton out of the bedroom.

I forced myself to stand, crossing my arms over the oversized hoodie I still wore. I wanted to fade away into nothingness, wanting to be anywhere but here.

“Olivia said I can come stay with her for the rest of the break. I’m so sorry for showing up here last night, I didn’t know where to go. I knew Olivia was coming to the party, so I figured she would be here—”

“Landry,” he cut me off, taking a few steps closer until he towered over me. I kept my gaze down, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry for everything. Everything I did, everything I said to you at the dance, all of it.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly what I had expected to hear.

“I wish more than anything that I could take it all back. I fucked up, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I can’t erase the things I did, but I will make damn sure that I make things right, however I can, and however long it takes. I swear to you that I will make it up to you somehow. I am so, so sorry.”

I had craved those very words for so long, needing someone to convince me that I was worthy of forgiveness. But hearing the words, I still felt nothing.

Because I had deserved all of it. I could have stopped his sister’s death that night, and I hadn’t. I may not have directly killed Emory, but I was still just as guilty. And my mom…

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