Page 92 of At Your Mercy

He felt like home.

“Whatever you decide,” he murmured, “I’ll be right there. I’ll never leave your side. I fucking love you, Ronan. Andreas. Whoever you are or whoever you want to be.”

I stared at him for a long time, at the patch covering half his face, at the lines of exhaustion and grief that hadn’t been there before.

“Thank you,” is all I could say.

Wes looked at me for a moment, his gaze contemplative. He gave me a small smile as he stood from the ground to join me in bed. Careful not to jostle me, he scooted back to sit against the headboard.

I adjusted my upper body so that I could lay my head on his thigh, gritting my teeth through a slight jolt of pain that faded as I settled.

Wes’s hand drifted into my hair, brushing through the tangles absently. His touch was so gentle it ached. For a while,neither of us said anything. The room was quiet except for our breathing.

Then, his voice cut through the silence, low and a little hesitant. “Ro… there’s something I need to tell you.”

I tilted my head slightly on his thigh, just enough to see the tension in his jaw. “What is it?”

He exhaled hard through his nose, his fingers pausing in my hair. “When I was with Elias, he said some things. About what happened with your family.”

Every nerve in my body went on alert. “What kind of things?”

“He said…” Wes’s throat worked as he swallowed. “He said you killed them. Your parents.”

My whole body went rigid.

The air left my lungs in one sharp, painful rush. “No.”

Wes kept his voice soft, cautious. “Ro, you don’t need to hide from me.”

I tried to sit up. The movement sent a bolt of pain through my chest, but I didn’t care.

“Ro.” His tone dropped, quiet but firm. His hand moved fast, steady against the side of my neck, pressing down just enough to keep me from rising further. “Hey—don’t do that. Lie back.”

I froze, breath shaking, my pulse pounding under his palm.

“Let me up,” I hissed, though my voice broke halfway through.

“No,” he said, gentler this time. “I won’t let you tear your stitches open. You’re going to stay right where you are.”

My chest heaved. “But—youknownow. You know, and you’re going to hate me and leave me and—and—”

“Shh, babydoll,” Wes soothed. “I’m not going to leave you, not going to hate you. I just want to know what happened. He forced you, didn’t he?”

My stomach twisted, but I gave a stilted nod.

“Oh, baby,” he murmured. His thumb stroked the side of my throat, grounding me, even as his words hollowed something out inside me. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

I shut my eyes, shaking my head before the memories could come. But they did anyway—flashes of blood, of light too bright, of shouting I couldn’t place.

“He… he said that if I shot them, he’d let me and Henri and Lia go. He said that he wouldn’t hurt us if I did it.”

Wes didn’t move his hand. He kept it there, steady, holding me in place like I’d fly apart if he let go.

I continued whispering, “Mom and Dad—they told me it would be okay. They told me to do it, and that they loved me so—” My voice broke, and tears welled up in my eyes. “—so much.”

Wes murmured, his own voice rough with emotion, “Oh, doll. They did. I know they must have loved you more than anything.”

My throat burned as teardrops slid down my face. “It was horrible. I didn’t want to, I didn’t—”