Page 103 of Children of Redemption (Children of Vice 3)

“My number one priority is you, little brother, so if I have to torture her at your bedside in order to get you up, I will. I swear on our parents’ graves, I will.”

I could see the anger; his whole face twitched.

I smirked down at him, nodding. “That’s the only way you can save her. If you don’t fight, I will force you. If you’re trying, try harder, because if I can’t see you move, I won’t even have to drag her in here. She’ll come herself…she even tried to bite her tongue off to get in here.”

His nose flared.

“She refused to believe you’d leave her. No one wanted to tell her. So over and over again she’d bite her tongue, and we’d have to put her to sleep.”

His mouth began shaking until he finally opened his mouth and bared his teeth at me. The pain in his eyes masked over by the rage.

“She tried to rip out her IV. I don’t even think she’s noticed the fact that they had to reconstruct her hand. The bullet shattered it, and her index finger was nearly ripped off. When they brought her in, it was bent completely out of—”

“…”

“What was that?” I leaned in.

“S…sto…p,” he muttered out with all his strength.

I shook my head. “Make me, little brother. Make me.”

Because I hated this shit, too.

But what else could I do? Out of everything in the world, the only thing that got him to react was her.

I was hurting him. But I preferred hurting…it meant he was still living. So I had to keep torturing him like this. “Her hand wasn’t her only injury…”

HELEN

My lungs hurt when I woke up, and the throbbing feeling in the back of my throat came back. Ignoring it, I looked to my side, expecting him to be there, but all I saw was my mother. She slept softly, her hand on mine.

“Wyatt—”

“Don’t do this again to me.”

Looking to my left, there he sat leaning into the back of the chair. He rubbed his eyes before focusing his attention on me. “If you call out Wyatt’s name one more time, I will unplug him.”

“Don’t be mad at him.” I begged, reaching out for my father’s hand. “I’m the one who started it.”

“He should have walked away.” He frowned, taking my hand. “He should have been the smart one and walked away.”

“Maybe…but I’m glad he didn’t.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. “I love you, Daddy. I really do, so please… please don’t hate him because of me.”

“A bullet shattered all the fingers in your right hand. You suffered a concussion and even took another bullet to your left thigh. On top of that, you’ve had anxiety attacks for the last two days….and all you want from me…is that I don’t hate Wyatt?” he repeated slowly, angrily… his jaw tense.

I nodded. “Everything else will heal. I’ll get better. But if you hate him—”

“What? You’ll choose to be with him no matter what?” he snapped at me. “You’re twenty-five years old, Helen. Why are you acting like a teenager? Think about what you’re saying, what you’re asking me to do? I raised you both. I watched both of you grow up, and now you’re claiming he’s the love of your life. It’s just a crush—”

“It’s gone further than that,” I confessed, and he pulled back like I’d slapped him. “And I am an adult. That is why I’m begging you not to hate him, Dad. Because if you do, I’m going to pick him. Dead or alive, I’m going to pick him. So don’t make me choose. Just support me. Don’t blame me for loving him the way I do.”

He was silent, and he wouldn’t look at me.

“Dad.”

He got up and walked toward the doors, and I couldn’t feel how badly it hurt because of Wyatt. I bit back tears, looking out the window

“Helen?” my mother whispered, lifting herself off my bed. She rubbed her eyes and looked at me. I wasn’t sure what face I was making, but she stood up and put her hand on my face. “It’s okay, sweetheart, stop crying. Wyatt’s going to be alright.”

---