Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

Ana

R age detonates inside me.

I leap to my feet on the bed, glaring at Crusher. "Tell me what happened."

The events of that horrible night flash through my mind, muddling my ability to think, almost stealing my ability to stand. The mêlée at that meeting was clearly designed to throw me into shock, mimicking the massacre of my human family, and it worked. And although they've denied it, it's possible these men were in on the plan all along. Why else would they kill Timur?

But I don't want to believe that.

"Did you kill Timur in self defense?" I ask.

Crusher shakes his head. "No. Timur's stake was raised, but not aimed at me. He was turned toward you. I thought he was about to kill you ."

I glare at him. "Timur would never have killed me."

"I understand that now."

"You didn't kill Timur to save me." Rage boils inside me again. "You killed Timur because he got in the way of your mission . Your mission to kidnap me!"

Crusher maintains eye contact and doesn't deny what I've said.

"Completing our mission was part of why I acted," he says finally. "And, as we previously explained, our mission had expanded to take you into custody for Mariano. But it's part of our code to protect the innocent, and I thought you were in danger."

"You're making excuses for killing Timur? Trying to justify it?"

Crusher blinks like my words struck him, but then nods stiffly. "Given the same set of circumstances. Given the knowledge I had at the time, there is nothing about my actions I would change."

Crusher not only admitted he killed Timur, my friend for a hundred years, the man he thought was my mate, but he's saying he's glad he did it. That he'd do it again.

"Does your ‘no regrets' assertion extend to lying to me about it?" I glare at him. "Lying to me about it for weeks ?"

Crusher blinks again. The only indication my words have had any impact, that my feelings matter at all.

He clears his throat. "That part, I do regret. I should have told you sooner. Especially after…after we?—"

"After you fucked me?" The word comes out harsh.

He flinches again, but it's barely perceptible. Crusher shows zero remorse for killing my long-time blood partner, my friend. I can't even look at him right now.

I leap off the bed, needing to put distance between us. Turning toward the wall, I cross my arms over my chest, hoping they'll hold me together.

"I should have told you," Crusher says stiffly. "I should have told you regardless , but especially after we?—"

I turn back toward him, glaring, fires of anger and hatred rising inside me and shooting out toward him.

Crusher is a liar. He's probably lying about Phil being dead too. At this point I wouldn't put anything past him. Plus, every part of my gut, every part of my soul, tells me that Phil's still alive.

"Are you lying about Phil, too?" I spit out. "I can tell there's something else you haven't told me."

His head bows for a second, and then his gaze returns to mine. "In the interest of full disclosure, there is one more detail you should know."

I stagger back, bumping into a mahogany dresser. "What?"

My last accusation was a bluff. My heart races and my stomach flips.

What hasn't he told me? Did he actually lie about Phil being dead?

I'm flooded with alternate explanations for Phil not coming to the palace with Crusher.

What if Phil left me?

What if he never wants to see me again?

What if he asked Crusher to lie, because he regrets his declaration of love?

Possibilities swamp my mind like poison. "Tell me!"

"Phil—" Crusher looks down. "The wooden bolt that pierced his heart. It was aimed for me." His eyes lift to meet mine. "Phil dove in front of it. Phil died saving my life."

My knees crumple.

Flame lands at my side, keeping me upright, so I don't strike the floor.

Regaining the use of my body, I shake Flame's hands off me, and then walk backwards toward the door. I don't want any of these men to touch me right now. Maybe not ever again. They're all in collusion. More loyal to each other than to me. I was a fool to think anything else.

My emotions, my entire being, have been lifted and dropped so many times I can no longer sense gravity. I can no longer detect which way is up, which way is down. My stomach is turning somersaults in both directions at once, my mind is spinning at the speed of a centrifuge, and my heart has been ripped right out of my chest.

I thought I was falling in love with Crusher.

Less than an hour ago, I came very close to telling him that, right after he declared his love for me. I thought I understood who he was. I thought Crusher was caring and kind, protective and commanding, but it's clear now that he does everything out of duty, not out of love.

His attention toward me, his protectiveness, has all been contractual—his kindness all performative, not only with me, but with his brothers, too.

Crusher isn't capable of emotions, never mind empathy toward others. He's nothing more than a rigid rule follower. He's callous and cold and a liar.

He's had weeks to tell me the truth about Timur.

My own deception, letting them believe that Timur was my mate, seems like nothing in comparison. And I told them the truth within days. Before any feelings of love had built between us. Crusher's lie of omission is a mountain compared to my molehill.

The brothers' claim that they owed me a lifelong debt of protection makes even more sense now. Crusher killed Timur. They were one hundred percent responsible for what happened to my long-time friend. They thought they owed me because they believed they'd killed my mate.

Did they all know?

I glance between Blade and Flame, now standing a few feet ahead of me and looking uncomfortable, like they don't know what to do. "Did you two know about this? Did you know that Crusher killed Timur?"

Flame nods, and a pit lands in my belly.

"I suspected," Blade says. "I never asked him to confirm."

My chest collapses. "Did Phil know?" The words nearly choke me.

"He knew," Crusher answers from behind the other two men. "Phil was the one who advised me never to tell you."

My body is trembling, inside and out. I draw long breaths, fighting to regain my composure, my sanity. I'm not even sure what I'm feeling right now. Every conceivable negative emotion is battling inside me for dominance. I'm angry, hurt, sad, disgusted, and ashamed that I didn't see the truth sooner. That I let myself think I might love any of these lying men.

Dragged down by an eddy of swirling emotions, I'm drowning, so weighed down by anger and grief I may never resurface. I gasp, sobs wracking my body as I struggle to find the will to continue.

I am stronger than this.

My survival instincts kick in, and I bury my other emotions to let determination take charge. I survived the assassination of my entire family. I survived multiple attempts on my own life after that, dodging multiple stakes while my father was missing. I survived childhood abuse and the pain of those memories returning.

I went a hundred years abstaining from sex—very difficult for a vampire. And I survived torture at the hands of a demon housed in the body of my childhood abuser.

I know all about pain. I know about loss. I can get past this.

These men think they're masters at hiding their emotions, at ignoring their primal needs? Well, I can bury mine too.

Reality slams through me, waking me up from a weeks-long dream. My future would never have worked with these men. Our passionate time together would have eventually ended. Their deceit has done me a favor.

Given what they've done, it will be easy to banish these men from my life, from my mind, and most importantly, from my heart.