“I do not need to remind you that only one of us has killed a man, evil Duke,” she grits out through clenched teeth. “And though I cannot remember doing it, I was told it was done in self-defense.” She presses the point of the knife against the flesh that dips at the center of my clavicle. “Do you agree with me that I would be justified in killing a man who inflicted such torment and abuse on me?”
I lower my hands, but keep my palms turned upward in surrender. “Yes.”
The small muscles in her jaw pulse, and she presses the blade hard against my skin. I feel the sting of my flesh severing, but I don’t move.
“I should kill you,” she whispers.
I swallow, and the movement of my throat causes the blade to drag and pierce. “You may.”
Isla whips the knife away, fists my collar, and jerks me close to her face. “I do not need yourpermissionforanythinganymore.”
Her shallow, yet intense breaths tickle my face, such is her proximity to me. “No, you do not.”
She remains like that, her jaw still pulsing, eyes flashing, but a subtle sheen starts to form on them. The faintest tremor appears on her bottom lip, and the mere sight of it causes my chin to quiver as well.
“I’m so sorry, Isla,” I murmur on a quiet, careful breath.
She sucks in a sharp breath and grips my collar tighter. “Ihateyou.”
I have no right to utter the words that follow, but they spill from my lips without permission. “You have every right to hate me. But know that I love you still, and I know I was wrong, and my regret and remorse over all of this will send me to an early grave.”
“No,Iwill send you to anearly grave!” she snarls, shoving my chest with her shoulder, all of her slight weight backing it, and sending us both toppling to the floor. She lands with her chest flush against mine, but pushes herself up and wedges the blade under my chin. “I will send you to an early grave. You are an evil,godlessman, Malachi Sterling, and you deserve all the retribution that hell can rain down upon you.” Her breath hitches, and her face contorts with palpable anguish, and I feel the tears roll down my temples. “You are not the goodhearted boy I loved for my whole life. You are as bad as those men in the picture.” A sob bursts from her lips. “You’re just as bad as they are.”
I open my mouth to agree with her, but can’t say anything before the knife falls with a clatter to the marble floor next to my head, and she collapses onto my chest. She begins to sob with more intensity than I have ever seen in all of our lives.
I have no right to touch her, but I can’t stop my arms from wrapping around her, holding her as close to me as humanly possible, andI’m so sorry.
I’m so sorry.
I didn’t know.
Ishould haveknown.
“My sweet Isla.” I have no right to even use her name, let alone call hermine, but I can’t stop. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I have failed you in the worst way imaginable. Inevery wayimaginable.”
Her sobbing intensifies to the point that she doesn’t even sound like herself, but then she drags in a ragged breath and squeaks in a tiny voice that sounds exactly like little eight-year-old Isla. “Malachi… I needed you.”
My head is throbbing from restraining the tears I have no right to cry becauseIam the one who did this to us. It wasmeall along. She is innocent and pure as freshly fallen snow, and I am the shit-covered boots that have stomped it down and soiled it.
I hold her closer and stroke her hair as it falls in a curtain over us both, and her fingers curl, weakly and shaking, into the fabric of my shirt. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t have adequate words. I wish there was something I could do or say to undo all of this. Everything that happened to you. Everything you suffered at my hands. I’m so sorry, Isla. For as long as I live, I will never be able to adequately make amends for any of it.”
Isla lifts her head, her hands bracing my chest as she lies on top of me. Just like countless moments when we were lovingly and intimately tangled up together, except right now, she’s not looking at me through big, enamored eyes that overflow with love, rather those eyes are spilling with hot, angry, devastated tears. Her beautiful mouth isn’t pulled wide with a captivated smile, rather it is tugged downward with a sharp, quivering frown. Tear-stained cheeks. The polar opposite of everything we were always supposed to be.
There’s only one thing I can think of to attempt to right this situation.
“Do you want a divorce?”
Her brow is tightly knitted, but her eyes droop with pure exhaustion and hurt. Eyes that, for all my life, held the entirety of my hope for every good thing in life; everything that was always meant to be, but isn’t, and won’t ever be because I failed her so egregiously.
Her trembling lips part with another hitched breath. “Yes.”
FIFTEEN
ISLA
Present
I SHOULD FEEL VALIDATED in the aftermath of learning that I never actually cheated on Malachi, that none of this was my fault after all, but I don’t. I feel emptier than ever. Lonelier than I ever have. And more hopeless than I even thought possible.
