Although, I never imagined that he’d be the kind of guy to lock a rapist in a cramped little dungeon and use him as his personal punching bag, just waiting for him to slowly rot and die. Then again, I never thought I had it in me to slit a man’s throat but standing in that dungeon with Jude on his knees, I would have done it without hesitation.
Maybe Colton is a monster. Maybe this is all some sort of act and he’s just like Nic. Just like the Widows and everything I was trying to escape.
What’s he going to do when he realizes that I know his little secret? Will he lock me up? Will all the tables turn on me and I’ll suddenly become the victim?
I should have listened to Nic in the first place. He's never liked Colton. Maybe someone like Nic can sense that darkness in another. Maybe he knew I've been walking into a trap this whole time.
I always knew Colton was going to break me. I just never expected it to be like this. I thought he was good. I thought he was the light that I’ve always been missing.
My feet take me flying through the mansion. I peer into every room, desperate to find him, desperate for answers, knowing this must be some sick misunderstanding. He couldn’t have done it. Sure, finding Marco dead isn’t surprising, but Colton being the one to shoot him?
I just … fuck. He’d totally do it if it meant avenging Maryne.
I throw open his office door and scan the room before quickly moving on. Where the fuck is he? I fly past the internal garage door and look inside. His Veneno is here and I can guarantee that means he is too.
My mind is a mess of torturous thoughts, each one of them trying to convince me to give him a chance. I should hear him out, at least listen to him plead his case before I let him have it. He can’t be a killer. He can’t be like Nic. It’s one of the reasons that I’ve allowed myself to get so close. I can’t keep falling into this trap. Sure, I knew he was dark. Locking Jude up was proof of that, but he’s supposed to be the good one. He’s supposed to be the one with his head screwed on properly. I’m the mess in this relationship—not him.
Maybe I’m being too hard on him. After all, I nearly killed a guy myself, but he was the one bringing me back. He was the voice of reason, so if he did this, if he ended DeCarlo's life, does that make him a liar or just a hypocrite?
After checking all the places he could be on the lower level, I race up the stairs taking them two at a time. I go straight for his bedroom. It’s the only place he’d be up here.
The unknown kills me. I need answers. I need to know who I’ve been allowing myself to fall in love with. Without knocking, I throw his door open and find his room empty, only his bathroom door is slightly ajar. I don’t even think, my feet just take me there.
I slam my hand against the door and it instantly swings open.
I come to a screeching stop finding Colton standing before me. His hands are braced against the counter with his head dipped low, only the second the door slams against the expensive tiles, his sharp gaze snaps up.
I take in his reflection in the mirror, the panic that’s outweighed by the blood splattered across his face. I search his eyes for a brief moment, unable to determine what emotions are pulsing far too quickly through my veins.
My gaze follows the line of his body, hoping to whoever exists above that this is all some kind of fucked up mistake. I scan over his face, down his bare chest until I’m following the line of his strong arm to the counter where a black gun lies forgotten beside him.
I suck in a sharp gasp, shaking my head as the horror pulses through me. “No,” I whisper, begging for it to not be true.
Colton straightens up, not taking his eyes off mine through the mirror. I instantly back up, taking note of his blood-stained shirt laying on the bathroom floor.
He’s a murderer. A cold-blooded murderer.
“Jade,” he murmurs cautiously, slowly turning around to face me while raising his hand to prove some fucked up point that he’s not going to hurt me.
I take another step back.
“Jade, please,” he begs, stepping with me. “You need to hear me out.”
“You did it,” I whisper, terrified. Not terrified of him, but terrified of what he’s capable of doing. Is this the first time or has he done this before? “You killed him.”
Colton seeks out my wild, wide eyes and cautiously nods, attempting to step closer. “I did,” he admits, not prepared to keep a damn thing from me. His face breaks and for the first time, I see the agony beneath the surface. “I had too. I couldn’t let him live. Not after what he did.”
I shake my head, feeling as though I’m staring at some kind of stranger. I back up another step, my heart racing in my chest. When I almost killed Jude, I was a mess. I couldn't eat, I couldn’t breathe. I had to scrub his blood from my hands as soon as I could but Colton just stands here, perfectly fine and more worried about explaining himself.
If this was the first time …
Everything shatters inside of me and not in the way it did when I found out that Nic was cheating. Not in the way it did when I discovered who my father really was, not even when I found out that my Widows betrayed my trust. No, this is something much deeper. This is the kind of shatter that a girl will never recover from.
Tears begin forming in my eyes as I stare at a man who I’m starting to realize that I don’t know at all, a man who I thought I was falling in love with. Is it even possible to fall in love with a stranger?
A single tear falls down my cheek and splashes against my collar bone. “You’re a murderer,” I whisper, the lump in my throat making it nearly impossible to breathe. “You … you killed a man. You told me you were going to put them behind bars.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, hesitantly taking another step. “Please stop looking at me like that, Jade. I’m still me.”
I shake my head, feeling the panic continue to rise. My hand falls down over my mouth, desperately trying to mask my pain. “How can I be in love with a killer? I … I can’t love you like this.”
His face falls as his head drops in shame, looking down at his blood-stained hands. A heavy, broken sigh pulls from deep within him and as he speaks, it’s as though every sound that comes out of his mouth is laced with pain. “Please, baby. No, don’t run. I’m still me. I’ve been dying to hear those words on your lips but I can’t have it like this. I can’t have the only time you tell me you love me followed by that.” He takes another step and I back up again, feeling the backs of my legs hit his bed. “Ocean please. Give me a chance, I’ll explain it all just …”
He reaches for me and I flinch away. “Don’t touch me,” I screech. “You’re just like Nic, just like the Widows. My father. The Wolves. Your father. The whole reason I happily left Breakers Flats was to give myself a new life. I can’t do this again. I can’t keep surrounding myself with death.”
“Ocean, baby …”
Another perfectly round tear falls from my eye and joins the other rolling down my chest. “I can’t do this,” I tell him, feeling the last piece of my soul crumble. My hands weave into my hair and I fist my hands into it, unable to control the overwhelming emotions. “I just … I need some time to think, time to process. You took it too far. That’s not what we do.”