Page 31 of Free to Judge
Keene smirks. “If anything, I’ll deflect everyone to place the blame on Caleb.”
“Hey now…” Caleb protests.
Then, as if on cue, a voice slices through our conversation. “Well, well, well. So Jon was telling the truth after all. For the record, I’m not apologizing to him.” Kalie steps out of the hallway, her glare scorching every one of us. “Don’t expect any apologies for what I’m about to say or do to any of you.”
I rub my aching chin, letting the brutal weight of her words hang in the charged air.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I feel sick.Not puke my guts out ill, but the kind of nauseous you can’t dissipate with pink liquid, ginger ale, or saltines. No, this is born of disappointment from being let down by people who swore they’d always protect me.
As I approached my father’s office, I didn’t hear anything. Assuming he had engaged his security measures, I waitedpatiently knowing the kind of clients he dealt with often meant he couldn’t discuss certain cases with our family.
But never did I expect when the soundproofing lifted Declan’s rising voice from inside. Nor did I expect the calculated way my family intended to keep information from me—us—about what was circling around us like sharks in the water.
Maybe I should have.
It’s a betrayal on so many levels I’m not quite certain what to do other than trust the only person I can in this moment—myself. I shove open the door to my father’s office, as a throbbing heat of fury and disgust surges through my veins, letting my instincts take over. When they realize I heard some of their conversation, my family’s faces flinch.
Good. They deserve the agony I’ve just suffered.
But Declan? His eyes meet mine head on. Of all of them, he has the least to be shamed for. He didn’t hold my hand growing up. He didn’t make vows in ink. He didn’t promise fidelity in truth.
No, all he did was smile at me and make me wonder and want.
“They say that if you eavesdrop on whispered conversations, you’re likely to only hear insults. But I can’t help but think the shadows reveal secrets that strip away any illusion of decency,” I declare. My pulse pounds in my ears as my eyes clash with Declan’s—a silent exchange that nearly strips the air from my lungs as his burn into mine with an intensity I last saw at my law school graduation.
Need.
Want.
Desire.
I try to steady my trembling hands, already assembling the words for a tirade well overdue. “How could you allow such a clusterfuck to happen?” My father, Uncle Caleb, and Liam wince. “The sheer gall of egoism and duplicity in this room burns through my very core.”
“Kalie…,” my father pleads.
Ignoring him, I step further into the room—a room my father built during my mother’s pregnancy so that he wouldn’t be too far away from us—and fix him with a look that reeks of contempt. “Tell me I misunderstood what I overheard. My—your—Jack Marshall is still alive?” I demand, my voice cracking like shattered glass.
Their silence speaks volumes. In my mind’s eye, I replay every syllable I overheard in the corridor once the soundproofing was lifted—a twisted conversation that at first made me believe my family was making deals with the devil. That is, until the devil was revealed to be the hero.
Declan is nothing more than an accessory to a hidden agenda. My anger flares and my stare shifts, aiming toward Declan, whose face is coolly impassive. I tilt my head and sneer, “Since you seem to be at the center of this, you get to explain.”
When he hesitates, I can’t control myself. “Now!” I bellow so loud and sudden, all four men start.
Finally, he speaks—his voice measured. “I’m not who you think I am.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “You mean the willful lawyer to kidnapping psychopaths?”
For just a heartbeat, his deep chocolate brown eyes flicker with regret—a flash of something vulnerable before he resumes his controlled composure. “Not in the way you believe me to be.” His gaze darts then to my father, who hesitates a heartbeat before offering a slow, weary nod.
“Tell her, Dec. We have to trust her,” my father finally murmurs.
“Gee, thanks, Dad. Trust me with what?”
Declan shifts his weight. That’s when the man I thought I knew seems to melt away, discarded like a wrinkled suit. The man standing before me straightens abruptly, shoulders squared. Declan’s posture suddenly radiates authority. In that moment, a chill runs through me as I’m reminded of my father and my uncles. He mirrors the same exact power they command.
My eyes dart to the other three men in the room. “Who is he?” I demand. Then, without giving them the slightest chance to respond, I turn to Declan. “Who are you?”
