Page 65 of Unexpected Heroine

Fuck.

That name.

And all the lies wrapped up in it.

When she opens her eyes, she’s brought herself back from her breaking point.

Violet Holt might bend with the wind, but she doesn’t break.

“I need you to listen carefully to me. You are not leaving me. I need you with me. I fucking need you. Me. Not them. I cannot lose you, and that’s what will happen if you go out there in this state of mind. And don’t act like you ain’t burnin’ up with a dragon’s fury ‘cause I can read ya better than ya think.”

Her features contort as she holds back her tears.

So damn strong.

She continues, and this time, the ardent determination of her voice is replaced with steadiness. “I got no right to demand anything of you. You’re not responsible for me. And you’ve damn sure already done more than I deserve.” Her twang vanishes as her anger morphs into sadness. The tears overpower her resolve, and a few slide down her puffy pink cheeks. “But I’m asking you anyway. Whether I deserve it or not, please stay with me.”

I lose track of the seconds as my mind tries to work out how she could ever think—for even a single moment—she doesn’t deserve everything I am and all I have to give.

At some point, my hands made their way to her cheeks. Careful to avoid her healing cuts and bruises, I wipe her tears while trying to box up the rage I harbor toward her tormentors.

At the thought of those men, my rage boils over once more.

All it takes is a single image from that recording to flash through my mind, and I’m teetering on the edge again.

Desperation flooding me, I search her face for something I can cling to. Something to make it okay to stay here tonight, even if it means losing my chance to question Davidov.

“Lettie, I’m not strong like you. I don’t know how to process all this,” I wave my hand over my heart, “all this fury and hurt. It’s burning and ripping through me. I want to be here for you. I’m trying. I know you need me, but all I can fucking think about is killing them. He deserves to die. They all do.”

Her jaw springs open, and her chin wobbles, but she can’t speak.

“Sugar bear, I need you to tell me what to do to stop this pain.” I tap at my sternum, barbed wire grating my tone. “I don’t want to leave you tonight. But I don’t know any other way to end this agony. If you won’t let me leave, then make me stay. Pull me from the edge before I jump.”

My admission surprises us both. Hearing the words outside of my own head hits differently.

Between the two of us, I’m usually the one with my shit together. I’m typically calm and intentional. She’s the one who acts first and thinks second. It’s one of the things I love about her.

Right now, I need her to make the decisions. I need her to bring an end to this misery. I need her to care for me.

It’s unfair of me to ask this of her or to put it on her slight shoulders.

You’re weak.

You’ll never be a man.

That’s why I call you boy.

You don’t even deserve a name.

The back of my head thumps onto the sofa cushion as an acerbic taste fills my mouth.

He was right. I’m so fucking weak.

No wonder no one has ever loved me before her. No wonder my own father couldn’t stand me. No wonder Big Al has always felt the need to check up on me like a shriveled-up house plant that’s been left alone without water or sunlight.

Lettie steadies my cheeks between her palms, squaring her shoulders with mine. Her cheeks are puffy, but they’re dry now.

She deserves better than me.

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