Page 98 of Undertow

A sob escapes her as she covers her mouth.

“Julia…” My voice is as broken as her expression.

Eyes clenched shut, she shakes her head.

We remain silent for a long time. I can’t guess what she’s thinking, but I know it would wreck me.

When she opens her eyes again, rage has mixed with the pain. She stalks toward me, eyes fierce.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to tell my family you’re a traitor?”

She’s close enough that I can smell the crisp citrus scent of her shampoo.

“You can’t blame yourself,” I say quietly. “It’s not your fault. I’m an expert at what I do. They understand that.”

With a bitter cry, she slaps me.

Hard.

The sound echoes through the room, and I clench my jaw against the fresh burst of pain.

“You thinkthat’swhat made it difficult? You think it was a bruised ego?! That it’s some Hatfield and McCoy, Romeo and Juliet bullshit?! Ah!”

She covers her face with her hands, shattering before my eyes.

And it hurts. It fucking destroys me to watch her fall apart because of me.

Because I let myself love and be loved.

Because I selfishly accepted beauty and light and hope when I know I’m cursed to a life void of anything good.

“I loved you,” she sobs, tortured blue eyes searching mine. “Fuck, Shaw! I loved you so fucking much.”

Her arms slip around me as she cries against my bloody chest. The pressure on my bruised flesh burns, but not nearly as much as her salty tears.

I close my eyes, desperate to hold her. Hating the restraints that are keeping me from it.

“It was real, Julia. All of it. I swear to you. Every fucking feeling between us was real.” I feel her tense against me and force myself to continue. “But my heart, my soul, mylifeisn’t mine to give you. If I could, I would. I’d give you every single piece of me, but I can’t.”

She pulls back and lifts her watery gaze to mine.

“Because you belong to Scarlett?”

“Because I belong to Hell.”

She recoils, and the rest of my wall collapses.

I can’t do this anymore.

I’m tired of hiding. Tired of acting. Tired of being everyone but myself.

Just so fucking tired.

“Montgomery McArthur owns me, Julia. Mind, body, and soul. My present, my future… every damn thing. He owns me in ways he doesn’t even know he owns me.”

The truth crashes between us, scattering shards of our shattered reality.

“Every scar, every horrific thing I am and have endured, belongs to him. I would have let them kill me ages ago if I could. I’ve fucking longed for it. But someone I love will be hurt if I remove myself from his grasp.”