“You have to eat something.”
I shake my head, too fast, too sharp, and bury my face deeper between my knees. The ache in my body has settled into something bone-deep. A numb, shaking kind of stillness. I feel like if I move too much, I’ll split open.
“Come on, baby,” he murmurs again, shifting across the bed. The mattress groans beneath him as his weight pulls toward me, and I can feel it—his warmth, his breath, the tension in him coiled tight like a spring. I shift away, instinctively curling tighter into myself.
“Say something.”
“I killed him,” I gasp, the words punching out of me like I’ve been holding them down for too long. They sear on the way up, fire behind my teeth. “I killed him, Landon.”
“No,” he says, soft but certain, shaking his head. “You didn’t kill him.”
But it doesn’t matter what he says. Not when the truth is already screaming inside me. I didn’t pull the trigger, but something I did—something Ichose—led to this. Something I did led to this blood on my fucking hands, and I don’t know what it is. Some crack in the path I took let death seep through. Some misstep, some hesitation, somestupid fucking trust in Marcus—and now Tommy’s dead.
I look up at Landon, finally, and my eyes burn so hot they feel raw. My cheeks are wet again and I don’t remember when I started crying, but the tears are there, heavy and hot and endless.
“So why is he dead, Lan?” My voice trembles as I speak, barely holding together. “If it’s not my fault…howdid he end up dead?”
His eyes lock with mine, and as soon as the concern erupts, Landon’s face twists. The muscle in his cheek jumps, and his hands curl into fists at his sides. I’ve never seen him look murderous and helpless at the same time.
I press on, voice rising, desperate. “The Raiders said—they said—if I did what they asked, if I manipulated Brooke, if I got close, they’d let Tommylive.That was the deal, right? That was the fucking deal.”
“I know,” he says, voice rough.
“And he’s dead.” My voice breaks on the word. I suck in a breath and it comes out wrong, sharp and uneven, like my lungs can’t hold the weight of it. “So what did I do wrong? What did I miss?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and it makes the silence heavier than anything he's ever said. And I’m unraveling.
My body folds in on itself again, knees tucked to my chest, arms shaking as I try to breathe around the weight pressing into me. The pressure builds like I’m going to implode, like grief and guilt and rage are all clawing at my insides for a way out. But there’s no space to scream. No air to cry in.
“You didn’t miss anything, Peach,” he whispers, voice tight. His palm runs slowly up my thigh, grounding, steady, and he shifts closer, stretching out across the comforter like he’s trying toshield me from everything that hurts. “You did what you were told.”
“Maybe I wasn’t quick enough,” I mutter, but the words feel hollow, even to me.
“That can’t be it.” Landon’s voice stays low, careful. “Manipulation takes time. Marcus knows that. He gave you the order last week—he wouldn’t have expected a miracle overnight.”
But the way he saysmanipulationmakes something sour coil in my gut. The word tastes dirty, violent. It echoes too loud inside me, because I haven’t evenstartedunpacking what I’ve done to Brooke. What I waswillingto do.
How do I look in the mirror now, knowing I was ready to weaponize her heart?
I was going to let her fall. Not just stumble—I was going topush.
I was going to let her fall in love with me. Completely. Without hesitation. I was going to smile when she called me hers, I was going to kiss her like I meant it, whisper things I’d already decided she wouldn’t get to keep. I was going to make her want me—needme—and then I was going to walk her straight into the lion’s den.
And all for what?
So the Raiders could rip open her family's legacy, use her name, her access, herlovefor me, to rob them blind? To crawl into the cracks of the du Pont empire and pry it open from the inside?
I told myself it was for Tommy. That it was worth it. That this was war, and war meant sacrifice. That if I carried enough guilt, wore it like armor, I could survive the wreckage I caused.
I told myself Brooke would be fine.
That she’d hate me and heal and move on—becauseshe could.Because she’s bright and reckless and full of too much light to be ruined by someone like me.
But I? I wouldn’t survive losing him. So I chose.
I made that choice a hundred times, quietly, in the dark.
And now he’s dead anyway.
