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My lover.
My rapist.
Roman’s abuser.
Mama’s killer.
Shock fills his face for only a brief second, then it’s washed away as his perfect mask slips back into place. My throat is scratchy as I swallow past the dryness, trying to breathe through my warring emotions.
I’m surprised my voice comes out firm and not shaky as I grit out, “I know what you did.”
His lips twitch, his head tilting to the side animalistically. “And what’s that?”
I don’t want to say the words. I want to keep them buried. I want to keep the truth buried.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
“You killed my mother.”
He blinks, the only surprise he’ll show. “What happened to your mother was a horrible accident, sweetheart,” he coos, his low voice holding a sweetness to it that reminds me of the old Isaac.
Of the Isaac before.
“You look tired,” he murmurs. “You should get some rest. You’re not thinking clearly.”
He steps forward, and before I can react, his hand reaches out. His thumb slides along my cheek, and a shiver snakes down my spine. It’s not from lust or desire like it once was. Now it’s from revulsion. From hatred. From disgust.
I watch as his eyelids become hooded as he mistakes my reaction for something it’s not, for something it’ll never be again. He steps even closer, and the strong scent of his cologne mixes with the alcohol. I stifle a gag, hating the feel of him so close to me.
Without my permission, my body begins to tremble as his fingers glide down my neck, pausing at my pulse. “You need to come home,” he says softly. “I miss you.” His face lowers to mine, his nose tracing my jaw.
Bile rises in my throat as I rest my hands on his chest and shove him as hard as I can. He stumbles back, his jaw tensing and hands falling to his sides.
“The only thing you miss is me taking care of you and keeping your world together,” I spit, letting him hear every ounce of disgust I hold for him.
Eyes narrowing, he scans me, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That’s not true, and you know it.”
“The only thing I know is that you’re a liar, a manipulator. You’re an abu—”
“I’d stop while you’re ahead,” he growls, interrupting me before I can call him what he truly is.
An abuser.
“Or what?” I taunt, my voice rising. “You’ll kill me like you killed my mother? Or Cami?” I move toward him, surprising myself at the lack of fear I feel. “You’ll rape me again?” I choke down the sob that threatens to spill over as I shove him as hard as I can. “Or maybe you’ll take me down to the basement and terrorize me the way you did your son? He was a child! You were supposed to protect him. You were supposed to be the one person he could turn to in this world, the one person who was always supposed to love him. And you hurt him, Isaac. You fucking hurt him!”
I see it in his eyes, the moment before his anger snaps and he loses control. I don’t see his hand, though.
It flies through the air and connects with my cheek, sending me backward. “I told you to shut your fucking mouth.”
Gasping, I grip my cheek, gently probing at it as I glare at him, letting him see every bit of loathing I feel for him. Blood pools in my mouth, and I run my tongue over the gash he caused on my lip.
“I’ll shut my mouth when you admit it. Admit what you did, Isaac. Admit you tried to break them, and failed. Admit you killed her.”
I take him in again, his disheveled appearance, the way he’s so clearly unraveling, and let out a humorless laugh. Letting my hands fall to my sides, I take a step toward him again and watch his throat bob as he swallows.
Pathetic.
