Page 68 of Ruthless Redemption
It’s strengthening my concerns about the damage I’m creating. That this situation has the potential to break Layla forever. That’s why I tried to encourage her to talk to Keira this afternoon.
I drag in a deep breath. “You should tell her.”
Keira straightens. “Tell her what?”
“All of it. Everything. She deserves to know the truth.”
“She’s always deserved to know. What’s changed?”
Me. I was too fucking naive to understand how hard it would be to watch her suffer through a false perception. I was an asshole for thinking I could win her back without tearing her apart. “Just fucking tell her, Keira. Do it in the morning.”
Her eyes narrow. “Is this a ploy to get out of your arrangement? That if I spill the details it’ll somehow nullify the deal you made with Cole?”
“Nothing will nullify the deal. I made a commitment and I’ll stick to it. But Layla should know the truth.”
“Thenyoutell her.”
“I can’t. She doesn’t trust me. She’ll think I’m trying to mess with her somehow.”
“Well, neither can I. My brother will kill me.”
“Bullshit. We both know her insight will only work in his favor.” If Layla knows she has a safe haven back home, she’ll leave, and I’ll be forced to follow. “She doesn’t know how you all feel and that’s the only thing keeping her here.”
Keira’s nose crinkles. “I’m confused. If you know she’ll leave, why tell her?”
Because even though Layla loves me, I want her to love herself even more. I can’t watch her wallow in self-loathing. I can’t put her through more shit.
“Langston?” Keira cocks her head. “Talk.”
“All you need to know is that she’s suffering from what your brother made her believe. So get it done.”
“Do you understand what will—”
“Get it fucking done.” I stalk for the door, pull it wide, and ignore every single motherfucker along the way to my bedroom.
I’m shooting myself in the foot. Sabotaging my own goddamn future.
But there’s no way around it.
Layla’s misery has to end.
I take a shower, letting the water’s spray wash the bloodied cuts along my thigh. Then I drag on my boxers, cut the lights, and climb into bed to stare at the fucking ceiling for hours after everyone else has gone to sleep.
Layla will walk. No doubt about it. And when I follow, I won’t have access to her on my terms. She could lock herself at home. Or worse, in her brother’s house.
Cole won’t grant me any more concessions. He’s given me enough already. So sinking back into my old lifestyle, this time under Torian’s reign, is inevitable.
Given the circumstances, I guess I never left.
A normal man wouldn’t spy on his woman. He wouldn’t pay to have her mugged. Wouldn’t manipulate or mistreat her.
A squeak of noise catches my attention. The sound is faint. Those fuckers are planting bugs while the house is quiet.
I slide from bed, grab my blade from under my pillow, and creep to the door to gently glide it open.
Everything is dark—the hall, the living room, the staircase leading to the lower level. But someone is there. I can make out a frozen silhouette near Layla’s door.
“Did I wake you?” Stella whispers.
