Page 41 of Sophie’s Ruin (Crimson and Shadows #2)

I needed something to occupy my mind, so it didn’t go to dark places, as dread threatened to swallow me whole.

I hoped Isabelle was right about how Henry would feel about me being here when he woke up, but I didn’t know for certain that was how things would unfold.

He might open his eyes and recoil in my presence, cursing the day I’d come into his life.

He might banish me… My heart turned over with another wave of dread.

I didn’t know what I would do if he sent me away. I couldn’t face eternity without him.

“I was twenty-three years old when I was turned,” Isabelle’s voice rang out in the quiet room, pulling me from my dreary thoughts.

I latched on to her words, focusing on her story instead of the possible tragedy that was unfolding in my head.

“The vampire that turned me…” She released a shaking breath.

“Well, imagine Stern and Moreau combined into one despicable being, who fed on pain and suffering as well on blood.” A shudder rolled through her.

“I was an orphan, and never knew an easy life, becoming a lady of the night at an early age. The one who sired me was a client who liked me so much he wanted to keep me…for all eternity. Or until he got tired of me, I suppose. Either way, he wanted me to be less…breakable, to be able to endure all the twisted and depraved things he liked to do…”

Isabelle’s eyes became glassy, as she stared into the distance as if lost in the terrible memories.

Another shudder racked her as all color drained from her face.

Her delicate throat worked on a swallow, and silence filled the room for a few seconds until Isabelle blinked, returning to the present.

When she refocused on me, her eyes were glimmering with tears.

“Vincent knew my sire, and when he learned about what he was doing to me, he confronted him. The one who turned me lashed out, and Vincent killed him in self-defense. He then freed me from the cellar where I was being kept.”

My throat closed up as I stared at Isabelle.

She’d endured so much. I had the urge to go to her, to wrap my arms around her in a sign of support, but I knew the gesture would be unwelcome.

If I knew anything about Isabelle, it was that she didn’t need or want my pity.

Even after everything she’d been through, she was a fighter, not a victim.

It didn’t go unnoticed, though, that she’d never called her abuser by his name, but I didn’t think it was out of fear.

It was because she didn’t want to give him that much importance.

Because he wasn’t important. He was a part of her past, but he was not the one who’d formed Isabelle’s character.

It was Vincent, when he’d shown her kindness.

“After he’d freed me, he tried to take me in.

They were already a family: Vincent, Rosalind, Gerard, and Henry.

” A small, reminiscent smile graced her lips.

“They opened their home to me, but I…” She swallowed again.

“I was too scared to trust them, to trust Vincent. I feared I was exchanging one abuser for another, so I escaped. I was no better than a Ravager then, bringing pain and suffering everywhere I went. Henry found me and tried to convince me that Vincent was different from the one who’d sired me, that the Duvals were different from the other vampires, but I didn’t believe him, not at first. I remained on the move, never lingering in one place, but Henry kept finding me and talking to me, until one day, I began looking forward to our conversations, to him finding me, because it was during those moments when I felt the most human, sane.

He didn’t give up on me, and eventually, he convinced me to join the clan because that’s what he does.

He finds the ones who are lost and saves them even when they don’t realize that they need saving. ”

“Even if they don’t deserve it,” I said low, my voice hollow.

I didn’t deserve it, I didn’t need to add.

Isabelle’s knowing brown eyes settled on me.

“When he comes to, you let him make that decision. Don’t take the choice away from him,” she said.

I just stared at her, unsure of how to respond.

A part of me wanted to take the choice away from him, to flee like a coward before he woke up.

Because then it would be me leaving him, and not the other way around.

In the end, it didn’t matter—my heart would still be shattered forever—but at least I wouldn’t be here to see the loathing in Henry’s eyes when he came to.

I wouldn’t be here to hear him say I was a monster and didn’t deserve him.

“Sophie?” Isabelle said, snapping me from my thoughts.

“Thank you for sharing,” I told her in a tone that I hoped conveyed how much her opening up meant to me.

She nodded and then rose to her feet.

“As much as I hate to admit it, telling you my story took a lot out of me. I need a little time to regain my composure,” she told me.

“You’re leaving?” I asked, my voice panicked as Isabelle left Henry’s side and headed for the door.

I was terrified of being alone with Henry. What if he woke up while it was just me in the room? What if I saw hatred blazing in his eyes when he finally pried them open? My heartbeat sped up in my chest.

“Whatever it is you fear will not happen,” Isabelle said, stopping by me on her way out. “You asked me if I had doubts about Wren and me. Well, you need to cast aside your own doubts about you and Henry. Your love is stronger than this. It will persevere.”

She pressed my shoulder in a comforting gesture before slipping out of the room.

My attention zeroed in on Henry the moment the door had closed behind her.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was rising from my chair, my body moving of its own accord.

I approached Henry’s bedside as if pulled by an invisible string and sat down in the chair Isabelle had occupied.

I didn’t deserve to be here, but I couldn’t fight the pull.

I wanted to be close to him, to soak up being in his proximity in case he sent me away when he woke up.

My hands twitched, itching to reach up and touch him.

I wanted to trace his chiseled features, which I could picture perfectly, even with my eyes closed.

My lips tingled as I wanted to brush them over his brow, his cheeks, and the hard line of his jaw.

But I didn’t dare disturb him. And just as I didn’t deserve to be in this room and by his bed, I especially didn’t deserve to touch him, to feel the smooth skin under my fingertips.

So, I folded my arms on top of the bed and laid my head down, my gaze fixed on his face so close yet out of my reach. Before long, sleep pulled me under.