Page 87 of Break Her Heart
He set his pen down, the scratch of ink on parchment falling still. “Well, that explains Augustus’s actions.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“He’s reckless sometimes,” he continued, “but not careless. Not when it comes to you. What he did that day—he didn’t do it for appearance. He did it for you.”
I sighed as I ran my hands through my hair. “Why must vampires always be so cryptic? What are you talking about?”
Benedict looked at me like I was the confusing one. “When he took their bodies down and buried them.”
My hands started to shake.
“You didn’t know.”
There was no way he did that.
“How—how do you know that?”
“After it happened, we were sitting at dinner—one that Augustus was supposed to attend—but he wasn’t there. Carrow didn’t seem to care. Normally he would be furious if Augustus missed, but he was almost happy. But then Lavina mentioned that one of her latest meals couldn’t stop talking about how aman with white hair took the witches down himself and ordered the Legion soldiers around. He had the soldiers burn the gallows while he carried the bodies past the town’s gates. Carrow nearly killed us all when he heard that.”
I sat frozen. The words barely registered.
He had the gallows burned. In daylight. He didn’t do that for show. There was no advantage. No gain. He did it because he cared.
Because helovedme.
The realization hit so hard I could barely breathe. It hadn’t all been strategy. It wasn’t just manipulation and necessity. There were real feelings beneath it all—there always had been. I hadn’t imagined it. I hadn’t been a fool. He loved me.
And I’d broken it.
I didn’t deserve him. Not after what I’d said. Not after what I accused him of.
And gods, what I would give just to have him look at me the way he used to. To feel that again—if only for a moment.
I ran through the castle, my footsteps echoing down the corridor as I turned sharply into the west wing. The heartbreak and guilt tangled in my chest like vines, tightening with every step. Pushing open the door to our chambers, I didn’t stop until I stood in front of the tub where he soaked in silence.
“Leave us,” I said, not looking at the servant by the door.
The servant hesitated, glancing toward August. He gave a nod, barely a movement, and the servant bowed and exited swiftly.
August pinched the bridge of his nose, not even glancing up. “Are you ready to kiss and make up?”
“You buried them.”
He froze. “What?”
“You buried them,” I repeated, the words strangled in my throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His eyes lifted to meet mine, confused but cautious. “Winnie—”
“You could’ve told me the day we came to the castle,” I said, stepping closer, trembling. “But you didn’t.”
He stood from the bath and stepped out, water streaming off him as he wrapped a towel around his hips. “You’re not making any sense.”
“My parents, August!” I cried. “You buried them! Where did you bury them?”
His face shifted. He took a step forward, his arm lifting like he meant to reach for me, but I raised my hand and stepped back before he could touch me. My jaw tightened, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep it together.
“Take me there,” I said. “Please.”
