“I don’t particularly feel like dying now.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“If I knew that, you think I’d be here? Talking to you?” I asked.
“You haven’t come looking for a handout for a long time. What is it you want? A plane ticket? A place to hide?” he scoffed. “Why would I help you?”
“Got no other place to turn.”
“The prodigal son.”
“Don’t fuck with me,” I said. “You’ve never helped me. You’ve never cared about me. You’ve never done a goddamned thing for me. I’m only asking for the easiest thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“My fucking life.”
“It’s worthless. I’m surprised you want to save it.”
“I’m kind of fond of it. And Sarah’s got five months of reasons growing in her womb to convince her to pull the trigger. She wants me to answer for killing Josiah and Michael Atwood.”
“So why don’t you end it?”
His solution didn’t surprise me. It was the one I expected.
“End what? Murder Sarah?”
“I won’t pretend you have much use to me beyond these matters if you don’t pretend you’re shocked I would ask it of you.”
“You want me to kill a pregnant woman.”
“Max, it will happen anyway. Stop thinking of the child and remember the Atwood. Wouldn’t you rather it be done at your hand? Wouldn’t you rather her last moments be of peace than horror?”
“Jesus.”
“Be a man. She’s fortunate she has a big brother who would be willing to grant her such a kind end. This isn’t about the company or the business now. This is about my son proving that he is my son. This is about answering an insult to this family.”
“What insult? Like you said, I got to fuck her, and now I’m richer than ever since Nick gave me the shares you didn’t reserve for us.”
Dad nodded. “And when Sarah Atwood kills you? When her obsession with destroying this family ends with you sleeping in a shallow grave?” he sneered. “She’s seduced Nicholas and turned him against me. She’s done the same to Reed. You’re the lucky one, Max. She hates you. Try to fuck her now. Try to apologize. Try to earn that pretty little smile of hers. You won’t get close. Your own brothers will kill you for an Atwood’s pleasure.”
“They wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Don’t delude yourself. If hurting you meant Sarah would pledge her little black heart to Nicholas, he’d slay you on the spot. Mount your head on a pike next to mine.”
He wasn’t wrong. Even Dad didn’t understand the lengths my brothers would go to protect Sarah Atwood.
That was why I came.
“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do? Just kill her? What about the company? What about getting a male heir?”
“All this talk of unity and welcoming each other into our families and changing the faces of the board has helped to strengthen our position. Should Sarah die, the control of the company defaults to her mother. As Bethany’s husband, I’m certain the new arrangement will benefit the Bennetts.”
It was always about the money. The family. The honor.
Never about what was important.
Forgiveness.
And just like Dad, I’d never get to experience the peace that came from forgiveness. It didn’t matter what I did, what I said, what I offered.
Sarah would never forgive me.
Why’d I ever let myself believe otherwise? Why did I let myself hope?
Why did I let myself love her?
“What about the baby?” I asked.
“An unfortunate casualty,” he said. “The plan is set, Maxwell. Sarah Atwood will die no matter what you do. The choice is yours. You can either die at her hand, needlessly, to answer for her brothers’ deaths, or you can do her one last favor. You can kill her, quickly and painlessly, and save her from suffering at my hand.” He smirked. “And you know how I long to make her suffer.”
I’d never wash this decision off of me. His voice chipped away my very soul.
This wasn’t a kindness to Sarah. He was torturing me. Forcing my hand for his own amusement, his own ends. This was my punishment for disobeying him and daring to ally with a woman who no longer wanted my help, my apologies, or my heart to beat.
Even Dad knew I was the sick son of a bitch who would do anything to spare Sarah Atwood any more pain.
“Sober up, son. Time to take your place in this family.”
I woke in a choked gasp.
The penthouse was cloaked in darkness. Silence smothered my wheeze.
His hand gripped my shoulder. I hadn’t expected the night to come so soon. He hunted in slinking shadow. I couldn’t see him, but it wouldn’t matter. Not now.
“Baby.” Max’s raw whisper scarred the shattering stillness. “Gotta wake up now.”
Nicholas had warned of the danger. I thought I’d have more time.
I thought eight months of their mercy would somehow prepare me for the inevitable. But the days I spent captured within the Bennett’s will were simply the trembling shuffle of a prisoner to the guillotine.
We knew it would end this way.
Why did it frighten me now?
The bed was empty. The coldness terrified me.
“Where’s Nick?”
Max’s impatience ached my lungs. “Don’t worry about him.”
I wished I could see him before it happened. “Is he safe?”
“Yeah. For now.”
The thought granted me a little comfort, the barest flicker of hope. “Will he stay safe?”
“Depends on what he does tonight.”
“I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“No one plans to get hurt, baby,” Max said. “Sometimes there’s no avoiding it.”
“Like now?”
“Just like now.”
Just like always.
I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t hurt. Every touch preluded a new misery. Every kiss ended with the bitter strike of another’s fangs.
I fought and resisted and plotted, and it hadn’t prevented any pain, only delayed it.
At least tonight it would end.
“Do you trust me?” Max knew better than to ask that. He tried again, his voice low, almost apologetic, as if he possessed even a shred of empathy. “Did you ever trust me?”
That answer came easily, burning from the smoldering debris of my broken heart. “No.”
“Good.” He didn’t mean it. “Then I’m not missing anything.”
“I never trusted any of the Bennetts.”
My eyes adjusted to the darkness. Max waited, his expression hard, unstable.
“Lot of good that caution did you.”
I rested my hand over my tummy. “You’re going to lecture me? Now? You really think it’ll help?”
“No.”
At least he was honest. I tried to stand. The asthma flared, and I coughed, hard. He didn’t offer to retrieve my inhaler. I leaned to the nightstand. The motion lurched my stomach.
So that was it then. Asthma and nausea. I’d hardly be able to walk. Let alone…
What? Run?
There was no more escaping. It was about to be over.
The finality of it all didn’t bring relief. Fear prickled my neck.
I looked at him, expecting something, realizing I’d earn nothing. “What will happen?”
Max anticipated the question.
“It’s gonna be quick.”
My stomach twisted. “Quick?”
“No suffering. No sense dragging it out.”
“Right.”
I puffed my inhaler and stood. Max allowed me to change from the pajamas into a dress. It didn’t matter what I wore when it happened, but at least I’d regain a shred of dignity.
Just for the Bennetts to steal it again.
Max watched my hand tremble as I smoothed the dress. I blamed the albuterol. He probably assumed it was fear.
He didn’t look at me. “If you want…if it makes it easier…I can do it instead.”
It wouldn’t make it easier. Just the opposite.
He tried to explain it, like it’d make it easier on me.
I didn’t need Max’s pity.
I knew this was coming.