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Isat in the back of a police van, numb, wrapped in a blanket. My father, still wrapped up in his tactical gear, was standing in front of me, explaining…trying to explain.

“Roman came to me. He said he would do anything to save you. Even turn on his family.”

My stomach clenched. Oh, Roman. Why did you have to try to save me?

“He made a deal with us,” my father continued. “He gave us this location where they were keeping you. He was supposed to wear the wire so we could get something incriminating on tape. So we could end the Tyrell empire. He installed the recording device inside the barn last night.”

“Looks like you got what you wanted,” I spat out. Bitterness coating my tongue.

“He knew the risks.” My father sighed. “You were right. Roman Tyrell…was a good man, in his own way. He died a hero.”

Finally, my father believed me. But it was too late now.

“But no one will know that, will they?”

My father gave me a guilty look. “It’s better if we don’t reveal publicly how we were able to get the recording or to find the location of the barn.”

Angry tears fell on my gray fluffy blanket. This was so unfair. I could scream, but my throat was choked up. “So he dies a criminal.”

“I’m sorry. If it means anything, I think he really did care about you.” My father looked at me with such sorrow I almost softened.

I remembered the barrel of that rifle pointed at Roman. I looked up, glaring at my father. “Your man shot him. Whoever shot him did it on purpose. I saw?—”

“It was crazy in there, Jules. You don’t know what you saw.” My father’s jaw twitched. Was he lying? Did he know something he wasn’t saying? If his team knew that Roman was on their side, then someone had shot Roman on purpose. My father was covering for them.

I pulled the blanket tighter around me. “I’d like to be alone now.”

“Julu…” My father slipped a hand on my shoulder.

I flinched from his touch. “Don’t call me that.”

He sighed, dropping his arm to his side. “You’ll get over him, love. You will.” He walked back among the officers who were processing the scene.

My heart curled up into a withered pile of ash. I’d never get over Roman. Never.

* * *

I had just finished givingmy statement inside the station. They’d sent me some jerk-off kid who still had his training wheels on to question me. I had seen a cop shoot Roman. No one would listen to me. I needed proof. I needed to know who shot him. Then I could get a confession.

“Pierce,” I called to the young officer standing out back of the police station sneaking a quick cigarette.

He flinched, coughing out a cloud of smoke. “Hey, Capulet.” He waved the smoke aside as I strode up to him.

“I know you were at the Tyrell takedown earlier today.”

He blinked slowly at me. “Right. Yeah, a few of us were there.”

“Were you stationed on the north or the south of the barn?”

I saw him pause. “Aren’t you off duty at the moment?”

“Were you on the north or south?” I repeated.

“Why does it matter?” He stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette and turned to go back inside.

I grabbed his arm. “Just answer the question, Pierce. Please.”

He glanced over my shoulder to the doorway leading into the station. “I was…on the south.”

He would have been standing on the same side as the shooter. “Who was stationed on the western-most window on that side?”

He shuffled his feet, his eyes darting about him. “Why are you asking all these questions?”

“Who stood at that window? Tell me now or I’ll go to my father.”

Pierce scoffed. “He’d be the last person to tell you who stood there.”

I froze, my blood turning to sharp icicles in my veins. I grabbed Pierce’s shirtfront, not caring that I was assaulting a police officer right outside the police station. “Was it you? Was it you who stood at the that window?”

“No.”

“Then who, dammit?” I leaned in. “Who? If you’ve ever thought of me as a friend…”

He shushed me. “Jules, keep it down.”

“Tell me, Pierce, tell?—”

“Okay,” he relented, “but this never came from me.”

Triumph flooded through my veins. “I promise.”

Pierce glanced around before locking eyes with me. “Your father took that position.”

My fingers sprang open. I stumbled back. Dread rattled down my bones. Betrayal shot like a bitter poison through my veins, withering my insides.

“Jules…are you okay?” Pierce’s voice sounded so far away.

No. I was not okay. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be okay again.

My father had shot Roman. He killed him on purpose.