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She continues walking. “Gaslighting is one of the worst forms of psychological abuse. I don’t doubt that I needed your protection, but you kept me agoraphobic and off-balance with all that talk about Jim and his friends.”
“Emberly,” I growl, unable to produce any words in my defense because she’s right.
“When did Jim die?”
“What?” I swallow. “He had to die because he hurt you.”
“You’re deflecting.” She shakes her head. “Again.”
“I killed him just after we went to Simon’s Pond. Is that what you want to know?” I ask.
“So, he was dead for two weeks before I found out from a news report.” Her words are flat, but there’s no missing the accusation.
I set up a stage where I made her believe Callahan and his corrupt cops would go to any lengths to get their hands on her, including staging my assassination. Hell, I even told her that the measures we took against the Moirai Group were an attempt to protect her from the crazy cop.
But I didn’t stop at the gaslighting. The day she opened up about her relationship with Callahan and described how he manipulated her into becoming his prisoner, she painted a psychological profile of me that was so accurate that I couldn’t rest until I destroyed the slimy bastard.
Instead of becoming a better man, I doubled down.
“I fucked up, baby,” I murmur. “Back then, I would have done anything to keep you.”
“And now?” she asks, finally looking me in the eye.
The agony etching her beautiful features grips me by the throat. I want to reach out to touch her and wipe away the pain I caused, but I’m paralyzed by guilt.
“Now, I love you from afar.”
“What else did you do to keep me?” she asks, her voice soft.
“What do you mean?”
Emberly parts her lips to speak before shaking her head. “Never mind.”
She continues walking down the street.
Up ahead, a truck stops outside her building. The delivery driver hops out, jogs to the back of his vehicle, and opens its doors. He hauls out a large package and carries it to the front door.
I glance down at my watch.
He’s right on time.
The man rings the bell and waits about a minute before ringing again. When there’s no answer, he leans the box by the door and hurries back to his truck.
I predicted Emberly would tolerate my presence until she reached her front door, after which she would tell me to get lost. The presence of a package she can’t lift in her condition is my way into her apartment.
As we reach the entrance, she pulls out her keys, but the door opens and the superintendent steps out with a goofy grin. I grind my teeth as he examines the label on the package.
“Hey there, Kate,” he says. “Let me help you with your delivery.”
She glances its way. “That’s not mine.”
He chuckles. “Kate Edwards, apartment two, Vigri Mansions?”
“But I didn’t order anything,” she says.
I pick the box off the ground and brush past the old bastard. “Hold the door open while I help Miss Edwards.”
The superintendent steps back, his eyes narrowing. He’s probably wondering if I’m the man who pays him to keep an eye on the tenant in number two. I shoot him a glare, warning him to keep his mouth shut.
