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46
BELLA
The air is heavy with the scent of blood and my heart thumps wildly in my chest as I survey the aftermath. Men scurry around the room, dragging lifeless bodies away and cleaning up the splattered blood on the walls while a wave of dread fills me as I recall how quickly Isiah’s feud with my father spiraled out of control.
After being taken away by Isiah and Cathal an hour ago, I can only imagine what kind of torture they were inflicting on him.
Fear worms its way into my chest, making me shiver as I consider how far Isiah will go to avenge his brother’s death.
My father is a villain, and I have come to accept that. But with every wicked deed Isiah undertakes, I fear his soul is darkening further. He didn’t want me to witness what he’d do to my dad, because he knows I’d see him differently.
My thoughts are interrupted when I spot a woman lingering nearby, her eyes glistening with tears.
I approach her cautiously. “Are you okay?”
She swallows hard before replying softly, “I think Isiah is going to kill me, she mutters hoarsely, her voice familiar yet elusive in my memory.
“Why?”
She swallows hard. “I betrayed him,” she admits, averting her gaze. Despite the fear coursing through my veins, I want to know more, but a sudden shout cuts off my question before it made its way out of my throat. One of the men shouting at Cathal, who has just walked into the events hall.
Isiah follows closely behind and is splattered with blood, which I assume is my father’s, making bile rise up in my throat.
The woman notices him also, shuddering with fear. “Oh, shit.”
Isiah walks straight toward me, locking eyes with me. His gaze is intense, unreadable, and mysterious all at once.
He pulls me against him and kisses me hard before speaking against my lips: “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
There are marks across his cheeks where it looks like he’s been crying and I trace them with my fingers. “Are you okay?”
His jaw clenches as tears fill his eyes, but don’t fall. “I’ve never been better, love.”
I swallow hard, and as I look into his eyes, I’m sure he’s telling the truth. Isiah needed revenge, although many say it is a useless thing to cling onto. I believe he did need it. It was the only way he could move on from his brother’s death.
“Isiah, I—” the woman starts.
“Jane, don’t say a word,” he says, turning to look at her.
She trembles in fear, gazing down at the floor.
“I don’t blame you for any of it.”
Her eyes snap up. “I set you up.”
“You set me up because despite me believing that you were free of your abusers, you weren’t. I understand why you did what you did, and I forgive you.”
She weeps then, tears freely flowing down her face.
“I think you will need some therapy, though,” Isiah says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll pay for it.”
Her throat bobs as she shakes her head. “Why?”
“Because I hate pedophiles and I hate that it took so long for someone to save you from them.”
Her lips wobble and then she cries some more.
Isiah pulls her into a hug, holding her close.
