Page 60 of The Heart of a Villain

“Yes. Whenever we see someone’s pain, most of the time, we’re relieved it’s not us experiencing it. We cannot help it.”

“That’s not true. Compassion means we can feel their pain and—”

“Pity them?”

“No!” I’m searching for the right words to explain my point of view because his sounds so… cold. “We wish to soothe their pain, but we can’t. So we try to see it through their eyes, understand them, and sometimes… sometimes justify them too.”

The brush pauses midway to the canvas, and he finally looks at me, our gazes clashing. I suck in a breath at the tortured yet intense green orbs that are filled with passion. “Is that why you’re here? You want justifications for their actions?” He drops the brush on the table with a loud clutter and grabs a towel, wiping his hands as he turns to me. “For his actions?”

With this one question, he brings up the elephant in the room, and thunder chooses this moment to boom in the sky again, followed by the pouring rain slapping against the balcony banister soundly. Nature’s mood matches the chaos in my soul while I struggle to answer this, or maybe I just despise myself.

Because, yes, I want a justification.

Who in their right mind easily accepts that their family is bad and never truly existed anyway?

My hair curls from humidity when I remove it from my face, only to blink in surprise when Rush snatches the jacket from the nearby hook and covers my shoulders, enveloping me in his warmth as his masculine scent fills my nose.

“Do you blame me? He’s my father.”

He goes to his art table and picks up a new bottle of whiskey from there. He flicks it open and takes a greedily pull, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the action.

“No, that’s not true. A father is just someone who helped bring you into this world. And while he is that… he’s also my dad.” I hope he understands what I mean by that.

“Our parents are precious to us. Funny, isn’t it? No matter their screw-ups, children always seek their approval and love. We try to justify almost everything in order to keep the connection with them, and when we can’t… we go low to no contact with them. And yet our whole life, we long for them or for things to be different.”

I hear traces of pain and self-mocking in this. “Is this how you feel about your father? Because… because he hurt your mom?”

He stills at my question, anger flashing on his face, but he replaces it with a crooked smile. “My twin shared some secrets after all.” He runs his fingers through his hair as he takes another sip before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Is this why you were in my room? Searching for my mother’s diary?”

I gasp at this, and he pads to the balcony, making me just gape at him in stunned silence while thoughts swirl in my head.

If he knows about the diaries and Rafael’s desire to find them, it means he knows about his twin’s motives as well.

Or maybe he found the diary a long time ago and already read it but refuses to share it with his twin, since their relationship is difficult?

My heart plummets while familiar desperation slams into me along with panic.

Because this assumption would mean Dad is guilty of the crime, and with his newly discovered actions, I won’t even be able to rebuff such statements.

I trail after him as he gets on the balcony but still manages to stay under the roof that protects him from the onslaught of rain, while ocean rocks in the distance, the navy-blue color so mesmerizing I don’t say anything for a second, drinking in the nature around me.

“You knew he’d ask me that?”

“Rafael believes only what he sees.”

“Funny. He said the same thing about you.”

I lean on the wall while Rush rests his hand on the thick banister, the whiskey sloshing inside the bottle as he shakes it. “Uncle Jade’s evidence wasn’t enough to convince him your father was to blame.”

“So you found the diary.”

“No,” he replies, and a relieved sigh escapes me. “It doesn’t matter. I had something Rafael didn’t. Access to Lachlan’s database. He had contact with my father.”

The tension ripples through me at this. “As in… they worked together?” Was Rush’s father a… a murderer too?

“My father provided him with information, only for Lachlan to stab him in the back. I guess you don’t cross the underworld king of New York without consequences.” A hollow chuckle echoes in the night followed by a gulp of his drink. “Even for me.” He spins around and looks at me, my soul weeping at the sight.

I’m his consequence, right?

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