Page 81 of Not Her Day to Die

“All three brothers? Wow, Sunday,” Luna laughs caustically. “Cut her some fucking slack. Let her tell you when she’s ready. God damn, it’s only been a day.”

I am eternally grateful for Luna’s remark, but I know neither of the brothers will let this go for long.

Jane clears her throat. “All of that to say, you will be left alone, other than the inevitable media attention, but no charges will be filed. All deaths have been accounted for as accidental or self-defense. Including the two dead men outside of the imprison camp and the unfortunate suicide of one Mark Leetle will not be investigated further.”

My attention flashes up, I meet Jane’s eyes.

She gifts a knowing smile, getting to her feet. “All documents and necessary items have been completed. As victims, you and Darius may need to be on the witness stand if this makes it to trial, but I imagine it won’t. The lawyers have already begun throwing deals around for other names. And so far, Sterling seems to be more than willing to turn on anyone and everyone for the chance at evading the death penalty.”

“And Maxwell?” I ask, because even hearing that he is dead, I have a hard time believing it. Killing a cockroach is nearly impossible.

“He is gone, my colleagues have assured me. Please rest easy, and if anything changes, I will reach out.” Jane wraps an arm around Luna’s shoulders. “If you ever need anything, you have my number. But Sunday? Take care of yourself. Take the time you need to heal.”

Grayson’s attention is still firmly planted on me and I can feel Axel’s eyes boring holes into the back of my head, but I ignore them both.

“We’ll see ourselves out.” Jane offers a wave as she exits the room.

We all remain in tense silence for a period after her exit. I focus my attention on Darius, on his hand, on his knuckles, on the scar along his pinky, the burn on his index finger.

Cooking injuries.

“Sunday,” Axel grumbles.

“Axel,” Grayson warns. “She doesn’t have to tell us anything.”

Darius’s breathing is heavy, uneven. He finally glances up, finds my eyes.

They swirl in misery and anxiety.

“It’s okay Darius,” I encourage. “We can tell them. It isn’t our fault. It isn’t yours or mine. We did what we had to.”

And I mean it. I would never, ever blame him. And I will remind him of that fact every day if I have to, because I can see the pain it has caused Darius. The heavy aura that wraps around him.

“Okay,” Darius agrees.

Wriggling off of Axel’s lap, I maneuver until I am straddling Darius. I rest my forehead on his chest, and he squeezes me to him. A sound of appreciation vibrates in my throat as I burrow further into his cotton shirt.

It smells like him. A warm, smoky sandalwood that wraps around us.

“It wasn’t Darius’s fault,” I start. “I need you both to understand I don’t blame him and I won’t forgive either of you if you do.”

“Little Lamb, you’re making me anxious. You need to spit it out.”

Grayson doesn’t speak, but I can hear his uneven breathing,sensehim.

I don’t know exactly how to tell them this. It is a memory that is both profoundly special and outwardly horrible.

“Sterling made me fuck her. In front of an entire crowd of onlookers. They must have videotaped it too,” Darius confesses, a sob breaking through.

I snuggle further into him, providing and taking comfort in equal doses.

Axel swears loudly.

“Are you both okay?” Grayson asks. “Fuck, no of course you aren’t! You’re both so fucking young. How could they? How?How?” Grayson’s voice breaks. “Fuck!”

I hear his retreating steps as he stomps away. As the side door slams. As Darius’s truck rumbles to life. As it squeals out of the driveway.

“He blames himself,” Axel informs, stroking my back. “He thinks that everything that happens to us is his fault. But he’ll be back. It isn’t either of your faults. It’s just, we shouldn’t have let you go, Sunday. We could have found another way. This didn’t need to happen. What if–”