Page 44 of Until Retribution Burns (Beauty in Lies 3)

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Rafael

Isa’s mother glared up at me, blaming me for the way her daughter had turned on her. The loss of the well-behaved girl who had always done everything she was asked became poignant and undeniable in those moments when she stared at her mother defiantly.

The choice was clear. If they made her choose, Isa would pick me.

It was the final nail in the coffin of the meaningful choices she’d made after leaving Ibiza. She hadn’t chosen me in that first moment when Chloe revealed the truth to her, but she’d chosen me in every one since then.

It would always be the two of us, no matter what life threw our way. I knew it in the depths of the soul I thought I’d lost years before her. The photos of her as a child only proved that, serving as confirmation that our lives had been intertwined when she was only just a child. This was something that I felt in my core.

Maybe I’d subconsciously recognized her on the street that day. Maybe our lives had been determined by some higher purpose before we could understand the pieces that were in play. All that mattered to me was the end result.

Isa was mine in a way I’d thought I could never achieve.

Her mother glanced down to her face, seeing the steely resolve there and releasing a sigh. “Call me when you’re ready to talk,” she said, turning on her heel and guiding Odina from the house. I half-wondered if Waban would make good on his vow to call the police, but it didn’t matter much to me.

They’d never bother to investigate. Just like they hadn’t really when my father had thrown Isa in the river. Our lives were so entrenched in violence between our families, I had to consider the prospect of what would come if Odina couldn’t toe the line I’d drawn in the sand.

Would Isa forgive me for killing her?

With her family out of sight, she turned and buried her face in my chest. Sniffling against my shirt, she pressed herself tighter as the strength she’d shown in front of her family faded. Until the pain that she hid so fluently revealed itself, and only those she could trust to support her, no matter what she did, remained.

Hugo and Gabriel nodded, moving out of the room and giving us privacy as I stared down at the top of her head. “We didn’t even make it to dinner,” she said, her voice muffled against my chest.

“I know,” I said, smoothing the hair over the top of her head. She would need to consider the fact that her family may never accept the woman she’d become. That she was too far removed from the one they’d known and loved for them to realize she was the same person.

She was just more.

I'd do everything in my power to protect her from the pain of their intolerance in the long run. Even if that meant hurting her more now to save her from feeling that disappointment over and over.

I guided her outside, the pool water glimmering in the lights from beneath the surface as we stepped onto the terrace. She eyed the water cautiously, keeping her distance from it as if she still couldn't quite bring herself to accept that she'd been forced to overcome that fear once already.

"I don't understand how she can look at me like she doesn't even know who I am, but leave here with Odina of all people.NothingI've done will ever compare to what would have happened to me if you hadn't been a fucking creep and protected me. Not even murdering Maxim can compare. What am I supposed to make of that?" We moved to one of the lounge cushions.

"You may have to accept the fact that your mother in particular will always take Odina's side," I said, staring into the water before I turned my gaze back to her. Her sad eyes met mine, her lips twisting with anguish as she tried to reconcile that with everything she'd spent her life believing.

"I can't blame her for that. I know how powerful guilt can be when Odina wields it like a weapon. She'll never forgive herself for the choice she made, even though if she hadn't made it we would both likely be dead." Isa sighed, stripping her eyes away from me and hanging her head in her hands. I turned her on the lounge, pulling so that she looked back at me. The words I spoke to her next would hurt but she needed to hear them.

She'd fight them, but eventually she'd see the truth in it.

"Your mother doesn't feel guilty for the choice she made," I said, reaching up to stroke her cheekbones under her eyes and wipe away the stray tears that left her cheeks wet. "She blames you."

Isa's breath left her lungs in a sudden sigh. She blinked up at me, tensing her mouth as she raised her hands to grab my wrists and tug them away from her face. "You don't know what you're talking about." Standing from the lounge, she made her way back toward the house.

"So why is it that Odina can do as she pleases with very little consequence, and yet you face the interrogation of a formal inquisition the first time you step out of line in thirteen years?" I asked, unfolding my legs to stand to my full height as she froze in place. I pulled off my shirt, revealing the brands on my chest as I stepped up behind Isa's still body. The tension there threatened to take my breath away, every muscle in her body locked as she thought about my words.

When she finally spun to find me standing directly behind her, a shocked gasp parted her lips. Raising her hand from where it rested by her side, I touched her soft fingers to the brands that marked me for every failure. As much as Isa didn’t want to admit it, we were more similar than immediately seemed reasonable.

Her mother had never abused her. Never said an unkind or unwarranted word, but she'd let Isa's guilt fester unchecked for years. She'd used it to her advantage and required her to keep an eye out for the sister who didn't deserve her time or energy. She'd stripped away her childhood under the guise of loyalty and good behavior. Isa'd always been destined to fail.

"My father wasn't always abusive," I admitted, guiding her finger to the first of my brands. The one he'd given me the day he murdered my mother was the one that always stood out the most.

It was the first time he'd physically harmed me beyond a smack upside the head, whereas before that he'd relied simply on harsh words and threats to other people. His disappointment with me had been vocalized, and I'd known every single time I failed him. Before the day he killed my mother, I'd been desperate for his approval and sought to do everything I could to please him.

To show him that I was capable of being everything he needed in his heir.

The only difference between Isa's mother and my father was that Leonora genuinely loved Isa.

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