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I stole a glance at the three brave men I loved. We needed to clear the air if we were going to survive this. “Okay, gentlemen,” I said. “We each have to hold ourselves accountable not to do anything heroic.”
The intensity of Atticus’s gaze told me he was brimming with disagreement, but he kept his mouth shut. With that kind of self-control, I could feel the sexual tension sparking between us.
“And you,” Leo added, pointing at me. “No heroic bullshit either, Christine.”
I bit my lip and glanced at Atticus. His clenched jaw let on how much he was struggling to contain himself.
Leo squeezed my hand.
My throat felt suddenly dry and my pulse quickened as I looked into Atticus’s eyes. His face might have been hard and uninviting, but beneath his stern facade, I could make out his loving expression and admiration—the same emotion he’d had since the day we first laid eyes on each other. Did he feel it too? “Are we…good?” I asked hesitantly.
Atticus swallowed hard, and I could see he was fighting something inside himself—a fierce battle of emotions that he didn’t want me to see. Finally, his lips set into a thin line and he nodded. “I’m fine.”
My gaze skewered Atticus, my lips a thin line, too. “That’s a pretty uninspired speech, Atticus. If you have something to say, now’s the time.”
Atticus stiffened, his jaw clenching. His anger was palpable in the room, like an electric current that ran through us all. His voice was tight when he said, “What I said in the kitchen…”
August laughed. “When you were tied up? I really wish I’d taken a picture.”
Undeterred, Atticus continued. “My words still stand, but I want to make something crystal clear.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled. “Well then, out with it.”
He cleared his throat, his eyes burning into mine as he said, “I’m sorry. Every goal I ever set—every plan I ever made—all of it was with you in mind. I devoted my entire life to protecting and providing for you. You’d love me no matter what, but if I can’t even give you the world, then how can I respect myself? How am I supposed to win if giving up is all that’s left?”
“You can’t keep shouldering this alone,” I argued as I watched him. He seemed so entrenched in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice me getting up from the chair and making my way to him. I straddled him, pressing my body close to his. “I love you, Atticus. Not only for who you are, but for who you want to be. Not for your last name. Not for your empire. Not for your goals, but just for you.”
Atticus froze, not sure how to react, but I felt his arms wrap around me as if they acted of their own volition. His face was so close that I could feel his breath. His eyes were searching mine, and his grip on my body tightened, as if he were trying to commit my curves to memory.
After a moment of intense longing, I leaned in and kissed his temple and said the words that had been gnawing at me. “Please don’t do this to yourself again. Please stop trying to do everything on your own. You tried when you locked me up. It doesn’t work with me.”
He let out a heavy breath into the crook of my neck before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was filled with promise, reassuring me of better days ahead. “I won’t,” he breathed. “I promise you.”
My heart fluttered at his words, warming me from the inside out. I pulled away from him slightly and looked into his eyes while I wrapped my arms around his neck and said the words that I had been too afraid to say out loud until now: “I forgive you.”
“I love you,” he replied as if there was no other answer he could give me.
My lips widened into a smile so big it almost hurt my face to contain it all. “And I love you,” I said back and sealed it with a kiss.
Chapter Fifteen
CHRISTINE
August’s voice quivered, a deep longing reverberating with each syllable as he spoke. “The last time I was here, I thought you were dead, love.” He stared longingly out the window, his gaze unfocused and blank.
We had spent all day driving to Redview, filled with anticipation and apprehension of what was to come. Too exhausted to speak, we each grappled with our own demons as we approached the edge of the kingdom.
The hotel we chose to stay at was run down and sullen. The windows were a dreary gray, and the curtains hung soiled with cobwebs. The furniture was caked in dirt and years of neglect, and the bedding was worn and stiff. The lampshade had been torn off from one corner, leaving the lightbulb exposed and flickering softly in the night air.
I drew a deep breath, daring to speak up despite the somber mood. “We never really talked about that.” August spun around to face me, and I saw a spark of some emotion behind his eyes, even in the dark.
Atticus was seated on the edge of the bed, meticulously cleaning his gun while Leo stood silently against the doorframe. I could feel tension in the air as I waited for August to respond.
Finally, he spoke. His voice cracked with emotion, and it sounded like he was trying to contain an unbearable pain. “It was terrible,” he said almost inaudibly. “I never want to exist in a world where you’re dead…never. Being here…reminds me of that.”
Leo cleared his throat. “You ready, Atticus?”
We’d decided that the two of them would secretly scout the town for someone to talk to—someone with influence. I stood out too much, and my picture was plastered on every screen across the kingdom.
