Page 138 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

“Colt and Richard,” I said. “That was you?”

“Yes.”

I absorbed it. I had already known, or at least suspected the truth, but hearing her admit it so flatly still hit differently. My wolf shifted under my skin, acknowledging the truth of who she really was. Dangerous. Capable. Mine.

None of it changed a thing.

“Okay,” I said.

She searched my face for a long moment, like she was waiting for something. Disgust. Horror. Maybe both. I brushed my fingers against her knee under the blankets, needing her to feel that she wouldn’t find either. Still, something tight and uncertain flickered behind her eyes.

“Can you accept me?” she asked. “With what was done to me. With the things I have done since.”

There it was, the real fear sitting just beneath the steel. Not of Thomas. Of the chance that I might pull away.

I slid my hand around the back of her neck and drew her forehead to mine. Her eyes closed immediately.

“That doesn’t change anything between us,” I said. “You matter to me. The rest is noise.”

She stayed there, forehead pressed to mine, and some of the rigid tension bled from her shoulders. The room was quiet except for Artemis’s soft breathing and the distant sound of morning birds.

I pulled back enough to look at her.

“I’ve been thinking all night about what comes next.”

“Jackson—”

“Let me finish.”

She waited.

“I’m with you,” I said. “Whatever this looks like. Whatever you need to do. I’m with you.”

Her expression shifted. “He is still your father. You can’t risk everything for me.”

“You still don’t get it.” My voice roughened. “You have no idea how much you mean to me. I need you safe. I can’t picture my life without you anymore. If anything happened to you…” The words caught for a second. “I wouldn’t function. I won’t stand by and let you face this alone. I’ve spent my whole life making excuses for him. I’m done. From this day forward, I don’t have a father.”

My wolf rumbled deep in agreement.

For a second she just looked at me.

“You say that now,” she whispered. “But when this gets ugly—”

“It already is ugly.” I held her gaze. “And I’m still here.”

She swallowed hard. “You really choose me? Over your own blood?”

“Without question.”

Harper let out a slow breath. “I don’t want it quick for Thomas. I want him to feel everything he did to my family. I want him to understand before he dies.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m not going to judge you for that.”

She waited for an argument. When none came, she added, softer, “Most people would say that makes me monstrous.”

“I’m not most people. Tell me what you need. I’ll do it.”

Her composure slipped, just for a second.