Page 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

DAYTON

“ T hat little glint in your eye is dangerous, babygirl.” My hand intertwines with Sable’s as we walk down the cobblestone path, leading us back to The Manor.

“Dangerous? Me?” she teases.

I chuckle as I give her hand a gentle squeeze. My thumb traces small circles on the back of her hand, a gesture that feels natural, like I’ve been doing it for years.

There’s that glint again, that playful spark that always makes me want to pull her closer, to see how far I can push her before she pushes back. It’s intoxicating, the way she balances right on the edge of teasing and serious, making every moment with her feel like a game I don’t want to stop playing.

I’m falling for her. And it’s happening so slowly, so naturally, that I almost didn’t notice. Almost. But now, with our hands entwined and her laughter still ringing in my ears, it’s impossible to ignore. The way her hand fits so perfectly in mine feels like it was meant to be there, like this is where she belongs—with me.

With us.

“What’s that look for?” she asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. She tilts her head up, her eyes searching mine, and I can’t help but smile at the way she looks at me, like she’s genuinely curious about what’s going on in my head.

“Just thinking how much trouble I’m in with you around.”

“Trouble, huh? I didn’t realize I had that effect on you. Weren’t you some Casanova?”

“You have no idea.”

I glance down at her, taking in the way her hair falls around her face, the way the moonlight catches the curve of her cheek. She’s beautiful—so damn beautiful—and it hits me all over again just how much she’s gotten under my skin.

She seems to sense the shift in my mood, because she steps a little closer, her shoulder brushing against mine. “Maybe I should be more careful, then. Don’t want to get my heart broken by the heartbreaker.”

I’d never break her heart.

And if someone else did, I’d crush every bone in their goddamn body for making her feel an ounce less than happy.

With my gaze locked on hers, I’m close enough now to feel the warmth of her breath against my skin, and it takes everything in me not to close the distance completely, to pull her in and kiss her right here, under the stars.

Her smile falters for a moment. She starts, but I cut her off, not with words, but with the way I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

We stop walking, and I turn to face her fully, still holding her hand. “Sable... I—” My words catch in my throat, the reality of what I’m about to say crashing over me. How can I put into words everything I’m feeling?

But before I can find the right words, her expression changes again. She takes a deep breath, her hand tightening slightly in mine. “What happened to you and Levi?”

Her words hit me hard, pushing me away from my own thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“As kids…” she trails off, searching my eyes for something, though I’m not sure what. “You and Levi… What really happened between you two? I know you became step brothers. But Silas mentioned that there is more. Some sort of explanation for why he’s been marked as a suspect.”

I inhale sharply. This is the part of my life I’ve kept locked away, buried deep where no one could reach it—not even Levi talks about it much anymore. But Sable’s gaze is insistent.

I take a step back, needing the space to breathe as I gather my thoughts. My hand drops from hers, but she doesn’t move, her eyes never leaving mine. “It’s not something I talk about.”

She nods. “Please… I need to know. I need to know that Levi isn’t a danger?—”

“I didn’t have a great childhood,” I start, cutting her off. “My father... he was a horrible man. To everyone. But especially to my mother and me. He had this twisted idea of power, of control, and he used it to hurt us in ways that I can’t even begin to describe.” I pause. “He wasn’t just abusive... he was a monster. And he made sure we knew it every single day.”

We move across the empty quad and find a bench beside the fountain and both sit. I pull her against me, holding her in my arms.

Sable shifts slightly beside me, her hand still tightly clasped in mine. I draw in a breath, forcing myself to continue. “She was dressed up like some kind of doll, made to look like a perfect, fragile ornament. But inside, she was breaking. My father... he didn’t care. He let those men stare at her like she was nothing more than a piece of meat. Hell, he encouraged it.”

The memory of my mother’s hollow eyes as she was led away from me burns like acid in my throat. I let go of Sable’s hand for a moment, running mine through my hair, trying to steady myself. “She was passed around the entire night, Sable. And I was forced to listen from another room as they... as they treated her like she was nothing. All while talking business, laughing, as if what they were doing was normal. As if this was just another night for them.”

“That’s when I met Levi. He was there with his own father. I don’t know how, but we recognized something in each other that night—a shared hatred for the society that only brought us pain. He was just as out of place as I was, and we started talking. We didn’t need many words to understand each other.”

Sable’s eyes search mine, her brow furrowing. “What did he do?”

“A seed,” I say quietly, my voice almost lost in the wind. “He planted a seed in my mind that night. We were just two angry kids, venting about our lives, trying to make sense of it all. Levi, he joked... or maybe he wasn’t joking, I don’t know. But he said, ‘What if you could just get rid of him?’ My father. ‘What if you could be free?’ And something in me... something dark latched onto that idea.”

I pause, swallowing hard, my throat dry. “It wasn’t a joke to me. It was like he’d opened a door I didn’t know was there. I started thinking about it all the time, planning it out in my head. It was my obsession, Sable. The thought that if he was gone, if my father was out of the picture, maybe... maybe we could finally be free.”

“Dayton.”

I look down, unable to meet her gaze. “I never told Levi how serious I was about it. To him, it was just something we talked about getting through the night. But to me, it was real. I started planning it. I found out when my father would be most vulnerable, when I could do it without getting caught. But before I could go through with it... my mother found out.”

I can feel Sable’s breath catch beside me, but she says nothing. I continue, my voice trembling with the memory. “She overheard me talking to myself, planning it out loud. And she begged me not to do it. She told me we’d find another way, that we’d escape him together. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes, Sable. She was terrified. Not just of him... but of me. Of what I was becoming.”

I force out the rest of the story. “But then, one night, he came home drunk. Pissed off because of some deal that had gone wrong. We were sitting down to dinner—just another miserable night. And out of nowhere, he snapped. He grabbed my mother, forced her down on the table, and raped her. Right there, in front of me. In front of a fucking rib roast.”

My voice cracks, and I can feel the tears burning in the corners of my eyes, but I keep going, unable to stop. “I lost it, Sable. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed the carving knife from the table, and while he was on top of her, I... I stabbed him. Over and over again. He tried to fight me off, tried to grab the knife, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.”

The memory is so vivid, I can almost feel the blood on my hands again. “He bled out on the floor, and I remember standing over him, spitting on him. Like he was nothing. Like the scum of the earth that he was. It was all expunged, erased from my record. It was ruled as self-defense, and our lawyers made sure it never saw the light of day. But that doesn’t change what I did, Sable. I killed him. I wanted to kill him.”

Sable sits there for a few moments, the silence stretching between us. I can’t tell if she’s in shock, or if she’s trying to find an escape route herself. I whisper, my voice barely audible, “So, if anyone in this group is a killer—it’s me.”

She finally speaks, her voice soft but filled with a conviction that surprises me. “You aren’t a killer, Dayton. You did the right thing. You protected your mother. You got out. You both got out... and you’re safe now.”

I feel Sable shift beside me, and when I finally look at her, her eyes are full of something I haven’t seen in a long time: understanding. Not pity, not fear. Just understanding. She doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t try to offer any more words of comfort or reassurance. She just sits there, her hand warm and steady in mine, and somehow, that’s enough.