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I barely knew how I was functioning. All I wanted was to go to my bed, crawl beneath the covers, and cry myself into unconsciousness, but I couldn’t let myself break until I knew Jay was safe. My emotions warred inside me. Jay had killed my brother, and maybe my father was right and I should want him dead, but how could I want someone else I loved to die?
Because I did love him—that was the truth of it. I could never excuse what he’d done, and I could never even bring myself to look at him again, never mind forgive him, but I couldn’t just switch my emotions on and off.
My father caught me by both hands, surprising me. “I love you, Ivy. You’re my only daughter. I’ve just lost one child and I don’t want to lose another. I still want Jayden Wynter dead, but if it means I won’t lose you as well, then I’ll let him live.”
I exhaled a hitched sob and allowed him to pull me against his chest while I cried.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jayden
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IWAS DEAD INSIDE,and every day was torture.
A month had passed since I’d killed Bruno Gilligan. A month since I’d last seen Ivy. A month since she’d said she never wanted to see me again.
What was I supposed to do without her? Everything else had fallen into the background. My drive to rule the city had died a death, but my rage hadn’t subsided. The difference was that now I didn’t care who I took down with me. I’d lost Ivy, and that was all I cared about.
The only distraction I had was Hallie and the new baby. I loved having a baby niece, but I was fearful that the poison running through my veins would somehow harm her, too. Because everything I touched turned to hell.
I’d shed no tears for Bruno Gilligan. That arsehole had it coming, and it had been a case of me or him. But the loss of Ivy had torn my heart from my chest. Seeing that horror and grief in her eyes, watching her piece together what had happened and realising I was the one responsible for her brother’s death, was enough to leave me torturing myself, day after day. It didn’t matter that I’d been defending myself. I wasn’t sure she’d even heard me say it. All that mattered was that her brother was dead and I’d been the one to cause it.
I scanned the bar I’d just walked into for the biggest of the men here—not just the biggest, but the meanest-looking, too. I knew I wasn’t exactly a small man myself, and, with my tattoos, people came to view me as being tough. Maybe they were right, but I wanted someone to think they could take me on. Making sure I’d had a skinful was a good way of doing that. If someone thought I was too drunk to throw a punch, they were more likely to jump into the fight.
A bloke who was well over six feet and probably spent far too much time in the gym stood at the bar, his attention focused on a fake-tanned, skinny blonde beside him.
I pushed in so I was next to the blonde, deliberately nudging her with my shoulder. Her blue eyes widened slightly upon seeing me. I still drew a woman’s eye, even if I had no interest in them anymore.
“All right, darling,” I said, jerking my chin at her. “Buy you a drink?”
Her jaw dropped. “Umm, no thanks.”
She raised her eyebrows at her boyfriend as though she couldn’t believe my nerve.
“Come back to mine then, and I’ll open a bottle of champagne. You can’t be seriously into that guy. He looks like he’s on ’roids, and we all know what that does to a man’s cock.”
