Page 97 of Undertow

His eyes flash with rage as he lifts his arm to strike again.

“Stop!” Julia commands.

All gazes snap to her. It’s the first word she’s spoken, the first indication she has any interest in what’s happening.

She pushes away from the wall and moves forward with a stoic look. “Let me talk to him.”

“Julia…” Adrian warns. “That’s not a good idea. This bastard has manipulated you enough.”

She fires a glare at him. “Exactly. This isn’t just business for me.”

Ouch. That barb was meant for me. It’s the first blow that causes real injury.

I blink back at her, my insides twisting.

“Julia’s right,” Mama H says. “Everyone else out. Be careful,” she directs at her daughter, then casts a violent look at me.

“This is a bad idea,” Adrian grunts.

He’s silenced by a sharp look from his mother. “Out,” she barks, motioning toward the door.

Any remaining protests dissolve as the others follow her from the room, the heavy door slamming shut with an ominous click of the latch.

Julia’s gaze hasn’t left me since her surprise intervention. Now alone, she takes a few steps forward, but stays far enough back that I’m not a threat.

Or… maybe it’s not that at all.

In the dismal light, I see it’s not fear that’s keeping her away, but something else.

Her gaze runs over me, slow and penetrating. Lingers on the bruises, the blood, her favorite tattoos.

No, she’s not scared. I’m her canvas and she’s deciding what to do with me.

In the tense silence, we both know the real interrogation has just begun.

“How did you find out?” I say, meeting her gaze. “Was it Scarlett?”

Julia remains still, continuing a calculated appraisal that chills my blood. It’s more terrifying coming from her than McArthur. McArthur’s violence is opportunistic. A means, not the end, which makes it easy to predict.

Emotion is a fickle catalyst.

“You’re referring to Scarlett, yourfiancée?”

I flinch.

“You heard us,” I conclude, my stomach churning.

A flicker of hurt flares in her eyes. She still has feelings for me.

“I’m not going to ask if any of what happened between us was real,” she says in an even voice. “It doesn’t matter. Because as long as some of it was fake, you’re still a monster.”

Her words slice into me more than any knife ever has.

I avert my gaze, unable to bear the betrayal on her face.

“Look at me,” she cries, angry tears in her voice for the first time. “Look at me, Shaw!”

I force my eyes to hers. My heart cracks open.