Page 156 of Where the Snakes Sleep

“I regret it.”

Henri looks almost bored. “Le regret ne rend pas vos actes différents.” Regret does not make your actions different.

“No. But what I do afterward does.”

I should stop.

I know I should.

Every word gives him another place to push.

But something about his indifference—the evidence, Nadia, Alberte, all of it—has begun unraveling the restraint I have maintained since he entered.

“You think loving Alberte entitled you to keep him,” I say. “You think because he came back, because he forgave you, because he stayed twenty-five years, that proves he belonged to you.”

Henri’s face becomes still. “Faites attention, Camille.” Careful, Camille.

I smile, because there it is, at last—something real.

“Do you believe he truly loved you? Even until the very end?” I ask.

Henri chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Oui. Il m’aimait.” Yes. He loved me. The conviction is absolute.

Something ugly and impulsive takes hold of me. Perhaps it is the blood drying against my mouth, the restraints biting into my wrists, or knowing three armed men are somewhere between Ryan and me while Henri stands here speaking about people as though love were a deed of ownership.

Whatever the cause, restraint snaps. “Non.”

Henri’s fingers stop moving against the cane. “No?”

I lift my head. “Alberte ne vous aimait plus.” Alberte did not love you anymore.

Henri grinds his jaw, looking down at me with disdain.

I continue anyway. “Il vous a quitté.” He left you.

“Il avait peur.” He was afraid.

“Oui. De vous.” Yes. Of you.

Henri scoffs. “Il m’aimait encore.” He still loved me.

I laugh cruelly. “Vraiment ?” Really?

Henri’s eyes become flat.

“Alors comment expliquez-vous son fils ?” Then how do you explain his son?

For the first time, Henri looks confused.

I let myself enjoy it, just a little. “Son fils américain,” I clarify. “Et ensuite son petit-fils.” His American son. And then his grandson.

Understanding arrives, as does fury.

And yet, I spit out, “Il vous a quitté, il a traversé l’Atlantique, et de toute évidence, il a baisé quelqu’un là-bas.” He left you, crossed the Atlantic, and obviously fucked someone over there.

One of the men inhales sharply. Henri’s face empties completely.

I should stop.