Page 34 of Widow's Walk

This was far from the kinkiest sex I’ve ever had. It wasn’t even that long or raunchy. But it was…something. Something about this was so much more satisfying than anything I’ve experienced.

And it terrifies me.

eHe see

Chapter fourteen

Blackwell

The first rays of sunlight filter through the shades, cutting faint lines across the room.

I lie there, watching Sinclair sleep. I hardly slept at all. I couldn’t, not after last night. After seeing her body so overtly displayed for me, illuminating every mark on her porcelain skin, every story her scars tell, it’s haunting me. Consuming me.

I can’t stop my mind from obsessing over it. Overher. I have so many pressing matters, but she seems to be all I can think about. About the life she had to simply survive, and about the vengeance I will carve into the bones of the people who made her, piece by bloody piece.

My brothers and I didn’t grow up in a warm family environment, but we were cared for. Protected and treated with respect. Our world was brutal, butBabanever used that brutality against us. He was hard on us, yet with reason.

AndMaman—she was direct and maybe even cold at times, but never cruel. She knew the life we had to prepare for. Shewarmed up more as we grew older and passed the age of being coddled.

Of course, I fight with Dane and Harlan, and there will always be some competition there, but we would sooner catch a bullet for each other than to spill each other’s blood. We value family, not for the sake of alliance and power, but for the sake of being family. Uncles, aunts, and cousins included.

Who did Sinclair have? If not a friend, not family, then who? Who helped hold her together when she was on the verge of shattering? Her sister was the only one of them to show a sliver of kindness to her, but from what she’s told me, she only patched her up after taking a beating. She didn’t protect her from it. No one did.

She’s sleeping on her stomach with her head turned my way and her arms tucked under the pillow. The blanket dips low on her back, baring the graceful line of her spine. Slowly, without thinking, I drag the blanket lower, exposing the curve of her entire backside.

The jagged scar on her hipbone catches a sliver of light. I yearn to trace it with my fingers. To memorize every inch of her pain. But I restrain myself.

Instead, I pull the covers back up, shielding her again. I study her face as she slightly stirs, and a tiny sigh leaves her lips. She doesn’t wake. She remains relaxed and unguarded.

No hint of a smirk. No mask concealing her pretty features. She’s never looked more human. Just as she was meant to be.

My phone vibrates on the side table, and I snatch it up before it wakes her. She only stirs a little, but her breathing remains even. I pull myself out of bed and head into the bathroom to get washed up.

My father will send someone for me soon if I’m not quick. I take a short shower and throw on some joggers and a thermal shirt before leaving my room.

When I reach my father’s office, he’s already there. He’s sitting behind his desk, still in his robe and a coffee mug in one hand. His hair is mussed, but his eyes are sharp on me.

“What the hell happened last night?” he demands without preamble.

Sighing, I flump into a chair across from him. “I don’t know exactly. An argument between Beck and some other men.” I rub the back of my neck sheepishly. I should know more by now. “Before I could intervene, it all went to hell.” I shake my head. “I’m not sure,” I mutter.

My father studies me, disappointment plain on his face. And it isn’t unwarranted. What I should have done was stayed and locked down the scene. But instead, I left Scout to deal with it while I fled all for Sinclair’s protection. I haven’t spoken to Scout yet about the aftermath, and it’s been hours.

This woman has my mind fucked.

“I’m sorry,Baba. Sinclair was there, and—”

“And she got involved,” he finishes for me.

“Yes, and I felt it was imperative to remove her from the situation entirely.”

“And why was one of Beck’s guys brought back here?”

This is going to be fun to try and explain. “I’m not sure yet,” I admit shamefully.

“Scout and Dane both said it was a request that came from Sinclair.” He lets the words hang. “And thatyouapproved it.”

I scrub my palm down my face with a heavy hand, reminded of last night’s panic. It still claws at my ribs as a reminder. How the thought of any harm coming to Sinclair had me coming apart. I finally nod in response.

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