Page 36 of Beautifully Broken


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“You kept those memory cards of me being beaten and … and.” I can’t say it, and instead, I lunge at him. I slam both my hands flat against his chest, but he doesn’t even flinch. “Did you watch them?” My voice climbs more, bordering on hysteria.

“I did,” he answers, and I hate his honesty. So much.

Shame wraps its claws around my body, ripping the skin off until it feels like I’m bare… broken and exposed for Damian to see every gruesome part of me.

“How could you?” I whimper. I yank my hands back as if the very touch of him burns me. “I trusted you. How could you do that to me?”

“Cara,” his voice is tight with tension, “I needed to see what we were up against, to try and get as much information as possible.”

Damian takes a breath to gather himself. “The mafia fucking kills. They don’t play around, and you should know that. Your parents are dead because your father and uncle got involved with them. The way they work is to take out the smaller dealers until only the most prominent members remain standing. And they take out the whole family. You should’ve died twice already. I won’t risk a third. I need all the information I can get so I can stop them.”

My mouth drops open at hearing his admission.

Oh. My. God.

Is it true?

Damian hasn’t lied to me before.

Was my father and Uncle Tom involved with the mafia?

Oh, God.

No.

I struggle to breathe through the shock until I finally manage to ask, “Are you saying my father and Uncle Tom are part of the mafia?”

“Yes. I think a deal went sour, and your Uncle made off with money that didn’t belong to him.” Damian shoves a frustrated hand through his hair, and it’s the first time I see him looking anything but sure and deadly. “Everything I have done is to keep you safe. I won’t do a single thing differently, Cara.” Each word is intense, and it grabs at my heart.

I can’t look at him anymore, and I lower my eyes to his chest.

“Now,” he continues gruffly, “I understand the past twenty-four hours have been rough, but, Cara,” he waits for me to lift my eyes back to his, “you don’t disrespect me. Don’t ever raise your hands against me again.”

I watch him leave, and then I sink to the floor, my emotions a destructive storm inside of me.

I took the pain and fear out on the only person who’s been there for me.

What have I done?

DAMIAN

I wipe a hand over my tired eyes.

I’ve failed Cara once, and I’ll be damned if I’m just going to stand by and let the fuckers responsible for the hell she’s been through get away.

I almost came clean with Cara but caught myself just in time. Hearing her uncle didn’t send me might be the one thing that breaks her.

When the door to my room creaks open, my eyes snap up from where I’m sitting on the side of the bed. My body tenses as I watch Cara slowly step inside my bedroom.

When she sees me, she walks closer, stopping right in front of me. Tipping my head back, I look up at her as she sucks in a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry, Damian. What I did was wrong on so many levels,” she blurts the apology out and then waves her hand lamely in the air. “I … I just wanted to apologize.”

I raise my hand to her hip, giving it a squeeze, and then I pull her closer until I can wrap my arms around her, resting my forehead against her stomach.

Cara places her hands on my shoulders, her body not stiffening, and I take it as a win after all the shit.

At first, I just wanted to do right by her, but then I watched the memory cards, and something exploded inside my chest. I have to protect her because no one else will.

And then I made the mistake of holding her at that motel, and once she fit so perfectly against my chest, I knew it would be hard to let her go.

But after last night and today, I know with dead certainty I care a hell of a lot for this woman.

If I try to cut her out now, I’ll be carving out a chunk of me. She’s already in too deep.

“I’m so sorry, Cara.” My voice is hoarse with these fucking feelings that have no place being in my heart. Now that she knows I’ve watched the memory cards, the words I’ve been wanting to say to her spill from me, “I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you in time.”

“Bruises heal,” she whispers. She gives my shoulder a squeeze. “They didn’t kill me. You came in time, Damian.”

Me and all my rules, and I was the one who broke them all.

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