Page 128 of Eternal

“Then let me give you this. Let me prove it to you.” Declan grazes a thumb over the apple of my cheek, and it’s almost comforting when nothing about this situation is. “Let me do what your father should have done for you.”

Tears sting my eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m giving you a choice.”

I swallow hard. “To decide if he dies?”

“No.” Declan shakes his head slowly. “He lost that chance the moment he put his hands on you. He’s not walking out of this room, Tealene. You know that.”

I do, and I should be terrified. But I’m not.

“Then what am I deciding?”

Declan steps back, releasing me, and this time I don’t move. I watch as he reaches behind his back and pulls out a knife.

“You need to decide if you want to be the one to take back the life he stole from you or if you want me to do it.” He holds the handle out to me.

My gaze moves from Declan to the knife, and I’m frozen. From the corner of my eye, I see the blurry figures of Maddox and Asher moving. They’re dragging an only semiconscious Weston to a chair on the other side of the room and tying his arms and legs to it. There’s a gag in his mouth so he can’t speak, but when I look up, his eyes are on me.

Eyes I remember haunting me in the middle of the night.

Eyes that made me fear the touch of a person until Declan showed me that I could trust the right hands on me.

“You want to make art, Tealene?” Declan asks, still holding the knife out for me. “You want to set your demons free? This is your chance.”

I nod, reaching for the knife. The wooden handle is warm and solid. The moment I wrap my fingers around it, Weston starts struggling in his chair.

“Good girl.” He circles around me, coming to stand behind me and guiding me across the room. “Maddox, Asher, leave us.”

I don’t know if he demands it so there aren’t witnesses, but they don’t question him as they make their way out, closing the studio door behind them.

Weston’s eyes are wide. His gray hair is messy and drenched in sweat. He’s older than I remember, but it’s been three years since I’ve seen him.

“Where did you find him?” I ask Declan.

“Seattle.” Declan rubs my arm. “Running one of your father’s shell corporations.”

All this time has passed, and my father still did nothing to protect me. He knew what Weston did, and he ignored it. Worse, he’s profiting from their friendship.

I reach the knife out, digging the tip into the center of Weston’s chest as he wrestles against the restraints. He can’t move from how he’s tied down, and I try not to think about how disturbing it is that Maddox and Asher know how to do that.

Declan rubs my arms, kissing the top of my head. “Do you have anything you want to say to him?”

“I—” I choke on my words as tears stream down my cheeks, and I feel like I’m floating outside my body. “I remember you. What you did. What you stole.”

The words come out between sobs, but I swallow them down because he doesn’t deserve them.

“You took everything from me.”

I dig the knife in deeper, and blood drips down Weston’s chest. The room spins and flips around. I’m lightheaded and can’t catch my breath. I’m standing still, but my chest heaves like I’m hyperventilating.

“I can’t.” I shake my head. “I can’t.”

Closing my eyes, I can’t even look at Weston without every nightmare from my childhood rushing back.

“It’s okay.” Declan reaches around me.

The warmth of his body envelopes me as he presses his chest to my back. His chin rests on top of my head, and his hand rests over mine on the handle.