Page 2 of Among the Sins of my Father

A car door opens. I hold my hand behind me, begging them not to come over. I don’t want comfort. I don’t deserve it.

Dragging myself to my feet, I don’t look behind as I stumble further into the field. There’s a copse of trees nearby, offering me a place to hide.

“I just need a minute.” My voice comes out less desperate than I feel, something of a relief. Hopefully they can’t see how messed up I am. Hopefully they truly believe it’s just motion sickness.

“Berkley.” His voice is low and deep as he says my name. Everything within me wants to turn around and throw myself into his arms. I want to find comfort and solace there. But I can’t. Not now. Not after everything Hope has been through.

A pathetic laugh stutters from me. “I just need some fresh air. I’ll be back soon.” I still don’t look at him as I say it. I know I will crumble if I do.

It only takes a few strides for him to catch up with me. He grabs my arm, whipping me around to face him. “Berkley,” is all he says.

“Don’t.” I pull my arm away. I can’t stand for him to touch me right now. It hurts too much. “I just need a minute, just a minute.”

I half stumble, half run into the woods, falling to my knees only when there’s no breath left inside me. My throat tightens as I try to suck in air. The edges of my vision begin to blacken and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“No, no,” I silently plead with no one. “Please, not now.”

Images burst like fireworks through my brain. The scar on my shoulder burns.

A ragged wound weeping as someone laughs. My knees sinking into blood-soaked carpet. Lifeless eyes. Nails digging into my hips. A bullet bursting from the barrel of a rifle. Keating’s face melding into Dominic’s.

Strong arms hook under mine and I’m pulled to my feet. I know it’s Jericho even before he speaks.

“First,” he chants. “Second.” He moves my arms, pulling them out to the side. “Third. Fourth. Fifth.”

A small amount of air reaches my lungs as I’m able to breathe. Jericho starts again, chanting softly in my ear, his chest pressed to my back as he leads me through the positions again.

“You can stop now.” I pull away, leaving the comfort and security of his embrace. “I’m okay now. Go back to Hope.” Even as the words leave my mouth I know how pathetic and spiteful they sound.

“Berkley.” The way he says my name brings a wave of emotion crashing over me and tears well in my eyes.

I cover my face but he peels back my hands and stares deeply into my eyes. So deeply it hurts. I lower my gaze.

“We should go. The police might be coming for us.”

“There’s no one coming for us, Berkley.” He tips my chin up but I can’t look at him. I’m too ashamed. All I have to deal with is these images in my head. Hope had to live them. And yet, I’m the one having a breakdown while she waits patiently in the car.

“I’m so sorry you had to see all that.”

He’s talking about Keating. About the way he gave the order for Barrett to kill him merely by the nod of his head.

He swallows and I focus on the bob of his throat, unable to bring myself to look him in the eyes. “I never wanted you to see that side of me, that side of humanity. I should have been the one to shield you from it, not expose you to it.”

I jerk my chin up, pulling it away from his touch. “I don’t need to be shielded.”

“Berkley.” And there he goes, saying my name again.

I push my tears away with the back of my hand. “I’m fine,” I say. “It’s over.” I still don’t look at him as I shove my way past and back to the car.

Jericho follows in silence.

Hope is wrapped in his jacket when we return. Without a word, Jericho slides into the backseat and I return to the front. Barrett lifts his brows and I give him a nod before he pulls back onto the road.

The car is filled with hushed tension. The whirr of the engine is loud. I stare at the trees as they pass, their gnarled and twisted branches, the slice of the moon, anything to keep my mind empty of violent thoughts. The gates to the Sanctuary groan as they open.

I press my head against the cold glass of the window, looking up high to catch a glimpse of the decorative framing. For the first time, I notice the iron curves and curls into the shape of swans. The whir of the engine slows as tires crunch over gravel. The Sanctuary looms above, gloriously moody in the dim light. My eyes are drawn to the ledge I jumped from. It seems like a lifetime ago that I tried to escape this place. Now, I’m coming willingly, with the full knowledge of who Jericho is, what he’s capable of and who he belongs to.

A sharp pain twists in my gut and I take a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of apprehension. Motion from the back catches my eye, and Hope sits forward, tears running down her face as she stares out the window.

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