Page 47 of Bloodstained Wings
“How would he even… He couldn’t have known that I… If this was his plan, why would he come after me, Carter? What I have done to…”
“You are the reason the war with Jacob Lacey started. Sure, Jacob had it coming, but if he hadn’t expressed such outright interest in you from the start, and I didn’t have to step in to save you, he would have lived a lot longer. Maybe that’s what Rich wants. Maybe he is punishing you for the start of the domino falling that caused this chain reaction.”
I cry harder, my body shaking in angst. “I thought you said this wasn’t my fault, Carter. You’ve always said it’s not my fault, and now this is retaliation. But for what, exactly? I’ve done nothing but love and trust you. Do you not trust me?”
His eyes widen with every accusation.
I don’t stop there, though.
“Do you feel jealous of Rich, Carter?”
He picks up his laptop in a single swoop, throwing it against the nearest wall. It rattles the house, and it doesn’t stop there. He grabs at his desk, his fingernails digging into the wood as he leans forward, absolutely seething beyond sexual measure now.
“I am not jealous, dammit! I am trying to protect you! Why are you making that sofuckinghard?”
“Because I don’t need to be protected, Carter. I can handle my own problems!”
“Bullshit. If I let that happen, Jacob and William would have had their way with you, Bella. You know that. You’re just trying to hurt me.”
I flinch, unsure where this is even coming from.
He’s never accused me like this, and I can’t help but wonder if the riffs in his family are sending him on a rampage to find the loyal and pick out the ones who aren’t being exactly like he wants them to be. Loyal, blindly in line, and on his team one hundred and ten percent.
I thought I was being loyal to Carter.
“Do you think I’m not loyal, then?”
He stiffens in posture, his fingertips reddened, and his face flushed in the coldest shade of ivory I’ve ever seen. He’s like a ghost now, too far gone to save, his life withered away into nothing but smoke and mirrors. He’s an enigma and an illusion, and there’s no catching him now.
“Tell me the truth,” I whisper. “Do you think I am not loyal to you, Carter?”
“I think you are loyal, dove. I do. But this can’t be overlooked. Whether you knew it at the moment or not, you had to have known that hanging out with Rich was going to get back to me.”
“I wasn’t trying tohang outwith Rich, he just—”
“Silence,” Carter orders, slamming his fist into the wood and breaking the skin on his knuckles.
I bite my bottom lip, his command too harsh to ignore.
Brushing his hands through his hair, blood dribbles from his hairline and mixes with the water on his face like a watercolor painting. It’s disturbing, but it’s Carter Blackthorne in his element. Pain doesn’t hurt him like it hurts everyone else.
Sometimes, I wonder if he’s inhuman because of the way he can switch emotions with such ease.
He only does it when he’s threatened with pain that could touch his heart, and I see those walls building right before my eyes. He’s going to leave me out here in the cold, outside the dark shadow of the walls he’s creating in front of his soul, and it’s going to be hell to get those down again.
After this hell of a fight, I don’t know if I’ll get the chance to take them down.
“I’m sorry,” I finally offer, not sure what else to say at the moment. “It was a coincidence that he was there. Or at least that’s what I thought it was. If you think he’s out to get me, to getus, then I won’t ever speak to him again, okay? I’ll stay in this house, wait day and night for you to come home, and won’t do anything that makes you question my loyalty again.”
For the first time tonight, his features soften. “I didn’t say I wanted that, Isabella.”
“You don’t sound like you know what you want, Carter. And I’ll do anything to help you. If it means staying safe, learning my lesson, and keeping out of trouble, then I’ll do that. I don’t want you to not trust me. I love you more than I love anyone else in this world. You are my life now. I will change everything to appease you and make you feel safe with me.”
He fully breaks now, slowly sitting in the chair behind the desk. He rests his elbows on the edge of the polished wood and presses his tired face into his palms. He looks rough and beaten, and I can see this argument has bested the man I love.
It’s not what I wanted to happen, but at the same time, I can’t ignore the irony of it all.
He has secrets that he’s not telling me, ones I have to look out for, and now he’s accusing me of the same indiscretions. As if I have a history with Rich Donahue. As though I have any other man out there on the streets of Manhattan with a past that connects to mine in a salacious manner.