2. Libby

2

LIBBY

I felt blank as I walked to the gravesite.

And why should I feel a damn thing? He fucking left me for his sister. He didn't even have the balls to tell me what was going on. I was in the dark from the beginning, and when it came time to form a rescue party, not a single one of them told me what was happening.

They should have known I would go to any lengths to rescue Rafe, but they didn't even consider taking me with them. Everyone had betrayed me.

Eva was silent beside me. As she climbed into my vehicle—without even fucking asking—she stayed silent. At first, I was pissed. But then I realized she was just as angry, though probably for different reasons. The men of this family were doing their level best to piss us off, and when this funeral was over, I was gone.

I had spent too much of my life living for adventure and a man who left me behind way too easily. Family was supposed to stick together, but then, Rafe never spent much time with his family anyway. I was never really one of them. Rafe and I were the outsiders. We occasionally met up with Michael, but that was only so they could discuss their plans—many of which I was left out of .

"Libby," Michael said as I approached the grave. "Are you sure you want to do this today?"

"Why? Do you think it will be easier another day? Or maybe I won't feel so fucking betrayed by this whole fucking family if I let it all sink in?"

He frowned as he stared at me. "Rafe never wanted you to know."

I scoffed at the ridiculousness of his statement. "Yeah, Rafe never wanted anyone to know." I turned to Eva. "Did he bother to tell you?"

She shook her head uncomfortably.

"See? Cash's wife didn't know. Hell, he didn't even know he had a sister. It's interesting how the men in this family keep secrets from each other."

"And their wives," Eva muttered.

"Libby, I know you're hurting?—"

I burst out laughing, unable to hold back. "Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? I'm hurting? My husband lied to me for years. All this time, I thought we were fighting The Syndicate?—"

"You were," Michael insisted.

"He was fighting for his sister," I seethed. "And while I find that admirable, I can't get past the fact that he didn't even trust me enough to tell me what the hell he was really up to."

"He loved you. He never wanted you to know what his plans were."

"Because he knew deep down that no one would stick around to watch their spouse do something so reckless that it would only end in death."

"Would you really have left him?"

I wasn't entirely sure about that. But right now, all I could think about were all the lies he told me. Would I have stuck around if he told me the truth? If I knew the inevitable would happen? In truth, it didn't really matter. He never gave me the chance to hear him out. He never afforded me the opportunity to decide, knowing how this would most likely end, if I would stand by his side to the end.

"I guess we'll never know," I said, walking past him to the gravesite.

Despite the fact that this was all planned at the last minute, Rafe ended up having a burial filled with men and women from OPS and Reed Security, all of them here to support Cash. None of them were here for me. Sure, they glanced my way and sent me sympathetic smiles, but they only spoke with Cash. They knew him. He wasn't someone who had been kept in the shadows the whole time.

The minister spoke a few words, telling us of Rafe's courage and loyalty to his country. He talked of the love so many felt for him—which I really felt was an overreach considering Rafe pissed off nearly every person he came across. I glanced around the crowd, shaking my head.

None of these people really knew Rafe. They didn't understand him like I did. Maybe Cash and his father did, but everyone else never really knew him. I was the one who stood by him when he had a crazy plan. I was the one who infiltrated a sex trafficking ring for my husband.

And he allowed it.

Did he ever really love me? Was he using me all along to further his cause because he knew how devoted I was to him? All of these questions burned in my gut. I would never have the answers I needed. I never got the chance to ask him if any of it was real.

It felt real.

But then…then he was gone. Not a single fucking word to me in person. No chance for me to grieve for him. The anger burned brighter with every minute that passed. I wanted to feel something other than this overwhelming rage, but it was too soon. All I wanted was to escape and pretend none of this had ever happened. I wanted a different life with someone I could rely on. With someone who wouldn't hurt me.

I was jerked out of my thoughts as Cash came to stand in front of me. I didn't know what was happening until I heard taps playing and saw him holding a folded American flag out for me.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

Tears filled his eyes as he knelt before me. My chest tightened as he slowly lifted his gaze and stared into my eyes. "I'm so sorry, Libby."

His barely audible words broke something inside me. A strangled gasp left my lips as with shaky hands, he held out the flag for me. I stared at it, hating what it represented. He gave his life, but I gave mine too.

How was I supposed to move on with my life when everything I knew had been ripped from me so violently? I shook my head. I couldn't take it. I didn't want to. I just stared at it, unable to force my hands to move.

"It's okay," Michael whispered from beside me. His large hands wrapped around the flag, taking it from his son.

His son.

What about his daughter? I stood suddenly, looking around the crowd for the woman my husband died for. Was she here? I felt Michael's hand on my arm, trying to pull me back into my seat, but I was too busy scanning every face around here.

"Where is she?"

"Who?" Michael asked.

"Isabelle. Rafe's sister. Where is she?"

"Libby, she's not here."

My face snapped to his incredulously. "My husband gave his life for her, and she couldn't be bothered to show up?"

"She's still in the hospital," he explained.

"My husband is in the ground."

It didn't make sense. I knew somewhere in the recesses of my brain that none of my thoughts made sense, but I couldn't stop the words from spewing from my mouth.

"He gave his life for her. She should have damn well-done everything possible to be here."

"She doesn't even know?—"

I tossed my head back, laughing hysterically. "She doesn't know her brother is dead?"

"She's been through a lot. We thought it best?—"

"To protect her delicate sensibilities," I finished for him. "You're right. It wasn't that big of a sacrifice, after all. He only died. Which, by the way, you haven't bothered to tell me how. Was he shot trying to escape? Did he piss off the wrong person? Was Fox there? We all know he loves to torture people."

"Libby—" Michael pleaded .

"No, I think I deserve to know how he died." Anger surged through me again until I couldn't hold back from the horrible words leaving my mouth. "I hope he fucking suffered. I hope that as he was dying, he was wondering if all of this was fucking worth it! I hope his last fucking thoughts were about how he should have fucking minded his own business!"

The roar of rage from behind me made me jump. Cash picked up a chair, smashing it over another. Suddenly, all of OPS was there, holding Cash back—or trying to—as he lost it and tore every last chair to shreds. Hands grabbed at him, Eva tried to reason with him, and Fox got in his face and did his best to calm the beast.

He turned to me, his cheeks twitching in anger as he stared at me. Yes, I had said some horrible things. I was rude and inconsiderate to those who loved Rafe. But the hurt and betrayal I felt were greater than anything Cash was feeling. I walked over to the casket and stared down at the closed lid.

"You fucking knew better," I whispered, then turned and walked away, leaving everyone behind. By tomorrow, I would be somewhere else. I would start my life over and forget that Rafe ever existed.

Maybe in a year from now, the shredded pieces of my heart would be mended.