Page 159 of Adam
“Adam, look.” She sighs. “I’m sad about Wes too, but?—”
“No,” I snap, cutting her off as I close the distance. My hands fist, then rake through my hair. My chest is heaving, every breath scraping. “He is …” My jaw locks. “He was …”
“A good man,” she says quietly. “I know. I’ve known him longer than you.” She swallows, lips pressed thin. “And I’ll admit, I was wrong about him.”
She looks away for a second, then back at me, eyes hard with regret.
“He was noble. Deep down.”
My grip on the handle of the blade tightens.
“I will make them pay. Whoever did this.”
She drops her gaze. Those dark blue eyes finally lose their edge and realize the truth.
She knows I mean her bastard of a father. That lying, manipulative sack of shit who’s been poisoning everything he touches since the day he slithered into existence.
That coward, that fucking parasite who calls himself a man already has his seat in hell reserved. He carved it out himself, and I was more than willing to drag him there.
What he did now only buried him deeper in it, far past anything he thought he deserved.
She moves closer, rises to her feet, and cups my face.
“Maybe I should go back,” she says, hesitant.
I pull her hands away. “Brilliant plan. Hats off.”
She lets out a long sigh through her nose. “We’re just here, doing nothing. He knows where I am and he’s playing with us. If I go back, at least he’ll leaveyoualone.”
I take a few steps farther away, letting the space stretch. “Right. Because your daddy’s famous for his mercy.”
“But—”
“No.” I hold up a hand. “Don’t.”
Her mouth snaps shut.
“You’re with me. End of discussion.” I let out a bitter chuckle. “You really think I dragged you all this way just to hand you back?”
She stares at me, her jaw tightening. “Then let’s go face him.”
That’s more like it.That’s the fire I fell for.The girl who doesn’t back down, even when she should.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s no us in that.” I give a broad, fake smile. “Iwill face him.Iwill kill him.”
“No, Adam! I told you if you fall, I fall.”
“I said no. Don’t say that again.”
“Mr. Manson?” The maid’s hesitant voice interrupts us. I give her a sidelong glance. “Grayson wants to see you.” She turns to Isabella. “Both of you.”
He’s marching toward the office Grayson told us to go to. He’s acting calm, like none of this gets to him, but it’s fake. He’s pissed, and it’s all over his face, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
And, honestly, he should be.
