46. Michael

46

MICHAEL

It hadn't really hit me yet. I knew he was gone. I had seen the horror with my own eyes, but I kept thinking maybe it wasn't real. Over the years, I'd seen so much in my life that was just as terrible as that, but it had never been my own son.

I'd devoted my life to working for the government, to doing their dirty work to ensure a safe country and keeping the balance when people in a position of power got out of control. I'd twisted my life around in pursuit of that freedom for others. In the process, I'd hurt three families, lost a daughter and now a son.

And my other son was hurting.

He hadn't spoken since we got on that chopper. He stared at the ground, refusing to look at anyone. He rubbed his knuckles, replaying the moment he shot his brother over and over in his head. I knew because I'd been there before. When Isabelle was taken—after I failed to get her back—I struggled to move on in any way. For days, all I could do was replay every moment that led up to her capture. It took me years to realize that every decision I made from the moment I started working for the government had led to that moment. There was no way for me to prevent it. But the mistakes I made since then could have been avoided if only I hadn't been so focused on getting Isabelle back.

Like what they did to Claire.

Even though it was in the past, I couldn't look at her now without thinking about my selfish actions and how they hurt her. I took a staggering breath and leaned back in my seat. We would arrive at the hospital in a few minutes and I would finally see Isabelle for the first time in years. Claire would be overjoyed, and that brought a smile to my face. I hadn't failed her.

But I'd failed Rafe and his brother.

I asked Cash to do something I couldn't. I wasn't a sniper. I wouldn't have been able to make that shot. So, I asked him to. I couldn't even imagine the guilt roaring through him. It felt like I was swimming in a sea of guilt, and I hadn't been the one to pull the trigger.

And yet, I sat here, unable to find the words to comfort my own son. There wasn't a single thing I could say to make this better for him. But I had to try.

"Cash—" That was all I came up with. I stared at his face, drawn and empty. I grabbed his hand, squeezing to try and convey the pain I was feeling, but he didn't squeeze back. It was like he wasn't even here with me.

"We're here," Max said from the front of the car.

"We'll set up a perimeter," Scottie told me, his eyes flicking to his boss.

"Thanks."

I got out, stretching my legs as I looked up at the hospital. Somewhere inside there, Claire was waiting. As soon as we got the call, Cash arranged for her to be brought here. I felt Cash step out and stand beside me, but he still said nothing.

"Are you ready to meet your sister?"

He gave a stiff nod and walked ahead of me. Sighing, I wondered if this was the end of my relationship with him. I'd taken everything from him. Well, everything that he stood for.

The ride to the fourth floor took forever. My palms were sweating and my stomach was swirling with nausea. I wasn't prepared to deal with any of this. We stepped out of the elevator and turned to the left. My breath caught as Claire stared straight at me, then ran at full force toward me, flinging herself into my arms. I held her tight, terrified she would run if I let her go.

"Claire," I croaked out, barely able to speak past the tightening in my throat. My fingers dug into her back as I squeezed her to me. I knew she couldn't breathe with how hard I was holding her, but I couldn't let go.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, I stepped back, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "She's alive," she huffed out, a hesitant smile gracing her sweet face. "You told me you would get her back and you did."

"Not nearly soon enough," I murmured. And at too high a cost.

"Cash," she beamed, stepping around me, her arms outstretched. She was in his arms before I could stop her. His face twisted in pain, but he didn't pull back.

"Claire, it's not what you think."

"What? How could it not be? Isabelle is in that room," she said, pointing behind her. "She's alive and she's going to be okay!"

I dipped my head as pain ricocheted through my chest. "Rafe didn't make it." The words slipped past my lips in only a whisper.

I watched as Claire's face turned from elated to tormented. There was nothing I could say or do to make this easier for her. Just as I did, she would blame herself for his death. Only it was worse for me. He was my son. I was supposed to protect him.

"He did everything he could to save her," Cash said, his voice low and gravelly. "He knew exactly what he was doing."

"This shouldn't have happened," Claire said in a panic, backing away from me. "This—she wouldn't have wanted this!"

"I was with him before he went to the island," Cash told her. "I saw the determination on his face. Trust me, what he did was because he wanted to save his sister. If he had failed…"

If he had failed, Isabelle might be dead. I knew what he was saying, but Claire probably didn't realize all he was risking by getting on the island.

"I'd like to meet my sister now," Cash grumbled.

Claire, still in a state of shock, stepped aside, nodding slightly. "I'll…take you to her."

I scrubbed a hand down my face as I watched my son valiantly walk toward Isabelle's room. Finally alone, I turned and closed my eyes, pressing my fist to my mouth to bite back the agonizing scream that was threatening to rip my soul to shreds. The pain was indescribable. I didn't know how to deal with such a terrible loss when I finally had my daughter back.

Especially when the sacrifice wasn't mine.

I had tried and failed too many times before. I never would have made it on that island because Zavala already knew me too well, but that didn't make what Rafe did any easier to swallow. It was my fault—my inane stupidity that led us here to begin with. My son was dead, and there was only me to blame.

"Michael," Claire whispered, resting her hands on my shoulders.

I sucked back a ragged breath, but the pain that had been building since I saw my son burning at the stake couldn't be contained any longer. My shoulders trembled and my stomach heaved. I bent over, vomiting what was left in my stomach. With a shaky hand, I steadied myself on the wall, struggling to regain my composure. Everything darkened around me until all I could see was the final image of him.

"Michael," Claire cried, her tears spilling down my back as she pressed her face to me. "I'm so sorry."

She didn't even know the half of it, and I would never tell her. Knowing my son had died to save her daughter was hard enough, but to find out the details would send her into a tailspin. I promised I would never lie to her again. I told myself secrets weren't an option, but this was one story I would take to the grave with me.

Never again would she suffer because of something she had no control over. Her time for hatred and fear was over, and as long as I had breath in my body, she would never ever know pain again.

I pulled her into my arms and held her tight, threading my fingers through her hair. "It's over, Claire. It has to be over." I felt her head bob against mine and stepped back slightly. "I want to take you somewhere when Isabelle's better. We'll find a quiet place to live and be free of all this."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "What about your job?"

I had given my life to my job. I wouldn't give them a second more. "I can't—" My throat closed up again, but I pushed past it. "My life is with you. I should have seen that from the beginning, and now it's too late."

I wasn't sure what I was expecting. For her to throw herself at me—some declaration that she loved me just as much and would never leave me…but we stood there staring into each other's eyes and the words didn't come.

"Isabelle needs me," she whispered. "It's been too long."

"When she's better?—"

"I lost thirteen years," she cried. "I can't just walk away now that I've gotten her back."

"I'm not asking you to walk away. I'm asking you to come with me when the time is right. Just the two of us."

"Michael…I want that. I really do."

"But?" I asked, knowing there was a huge but coming.

"It will never really be over."

"Of course it is."

"What about the men who killed Rafe? Are you done with them?"

Fuck. How the hell was I supposed to leave, knowing the men who killed my son were still out there? The Syndicate was dismantled, but it would rebuild itself. The men in power who had survived Rafe's assault would be looking for revenge. If I didn't take them out, it would never be over. I would be running with Claire for the rest of my life.

"I'll protect you…"

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she whispered.

The jab to my heart hurt more than I thought it would. The reminder that I hadn't protected her when she needed it most was still too much to bear. She was right. Until this was over, I had no business making promises to her.

"When this is over, Claire…"

She nodded to me, her frame strengthening as I took a step back. "When this is over."