Page 133 of Heartless Game

“Then I feel the same way. I love you, bashert. I’m going to give you the life you deserve.”

Leaning over, he kissed me again, sweetly, gently, protectively, like I was the most wonderful, important thing in the world to him. There was a desperation in his kiss, the way his mouth moved on mine, like he was memorizing my lips and my taste.

Like this is the last time.

But why would I think that?

Finally, he pulled away.

“I’m giving you the life you deserve, Tovah. Starting with letting you go.”

“Isaac, what are you talking about?” I asked, my heart starting to beat faster in fear.

He sat up, rising off the bed. “You told me how much you wanted freedom; you wanted to live a life without looking over your shoulder. But I can’t give you that, not if you’re with me. Now that my father is dead, I’m in charge of the family. The whole business. And it’s not safe for you. It’llneverbe safe for you. You almost died next to me, and I couldn’t save you. I refuse to let anything to happen to you. Irefuseto be the cause of your death. And if you stay with me, if I let you love me, if we spend the rest of our lives together, you will end up dying. Someone will take you from me, and I can’t live with that. So I have to let you go.”

“What kind of White Fang bullshit is this?” I asked furiously, but behind my anger, my heart was beginning to break.

“It’s not bullshit,” he said emphatically. “If I do one good thing with my life, before I get fully entrenched in the darkness, before I become my father, it’ll be this.”

“Isaac,” I reached for his hand, but he was already backing away from the bed. “I’m sorry. I never should have told you that you were like your father. You’renothinglike him. You arenothinglike that man. He was soulless, heartless, dead inside long before you killed him for me. Don’t do this.”

He closed his eyes, like it hurt to look at me. “I’m already becoming my father. It’s the sacrifice I made, to save you—and I’d do it a million times over.”

“You aren’t saving me, Isaac,” I said, devastation, anger, and shock all fighting each other as I felt myself falling off the side of a cliff. I thought we were about to have everything, and he’d ripped it all right out from under me. “You’re letting your fear control you.”

When he opened his eyes, they were as broken as I felt. Worse, the light in them looked like it was dying. Like hewasbecoming his father.

Never. I’d never let him.

He turned to go.

Furious, I sat up, trying to rip the IV out of my arm.

“Don’t you fucking leave, Isaac Silver. I swear to god, I will follow you and I will torment you, every second of every day, to make you pay for doing this to us.”

He whipped back around. “You think I’m not already tormented? You think anything you can do will hurt more than letting you go? It’s going to kill me, Tovah. It’s killing menow. The monster in me wants to keep you, cuffed to my wrist forever, but I’m not giving into him this time. I promised that I’d atone for everything I’ve done to hurt you, and this is me doing it. I transferred the deed to the house in your name. You and your mom can live there. I’m going to give you everything else you ever dreamed about, too.”

“But what if what I dreamed about is you?”

He shook his head, like he wanted, no,neededto reject my words. “You’ll finish up school,” he continued. “You’ll go on to be a journalist and do brilliant, incredible things with your life. And you and your mom will be free of the Silvers and all the ways we’ve hurt you over the years. That’s what I want for you. To be safe, and happy, andfree. Be happy, bashert. And know that I will never, ever stop loving you.”

And with that, he left the room, ignoring the way I cried his name.

And even though I kept crying it, he didn’t come back.

57

Isaac

Given my pacifist nature during hockey games, I’d never known a very basic fact—getting blood out of fabric was practically impossible.

I glanced with an almost numb disdain at the blood stains on my white button-down as I beat the shit out of the traitor tied to the cement wall in front of me. Every punch, every kick, pulled on the skin on my back and chest. I was still healing from the gunshot, and moving hurt.

Good. It should fucking hurt. Everything should hurt.

I was grateful to my father for making the garage a good spot to torture people, even if looking at it reminded me of Tovah’s screams that terrible day.

The man in front of me was worse for wear—way worse. Blood poured down his face, and his nose was practically caved in from the number of times I’d punched him. Behind me were torture implements in case I needed them. Once, I’d have hoped I wouldn’t. Now, they were tools to help me reach my goal: making sure Tovah and her mother were safe, forever.

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