Page 97 of Bought By Santa

I’m a stone, unfeeling on the outside, but inside I’m drowning. Shock, grief, guilt—they all collide in a chaotic storm, each emotion clawing at me, threatening to tear me apart. Willow is gone, and it’s my fault. Caspian’s words echo in my mind, taunting me, reminding me that my sister died because of me. The realization is like a knife to the heart, twisting deeper with every breath I take.

Nick says nothing as we drive back to the penthouse. The silence between us is heavy, suffocating, but I’m grateful for it. I can’t talk, can’t even think straight. The city passes by in a blur, the bright lights of New York muted by the fog in my mind. Everything feels distant, unreal, like I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

When we finally reach the penthouse, Nick leads me inside, his movements gentle but firm. I follow him up the stairs, barely aware of my surroundings. The walls seem to close in on me, the familiar space suddenly foreign and suffocating. I’m shaking, but I can’t stop. My hands are trembling uncontrollably, and I feel like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces.

Nick says nothing as he starts running a bath, the sound of water filling the tub almost soothing in the oppressive silence. He undresses me with a tenderness that makes my heart ache, his fingers brushing against my skin as he removes the blood-stained clothes.

I feel like I’m watching it all from a distance, detached from my own body. When he’s done, he lifts me into the bath, the warm water enveloping me like a cocoon. I sink into it, the heat seeping into my bones, but it does nothing to thaw the coldness inside me.

He climbs in behind me, pulling me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me. I lean into him, my head resting on his shoulder, my eyes fixed on the water as it turns pink, then red, the blood from Caspian’s men, and from Nick’s cut, washing off my skin. The sight should horrify me, but I feel nothing. I’m too numb, too broken.

But then, slowly, the tears start to fall. At first, it’s just a trickle, a few drops sliding down my cheeks. But then the dam breaks, and I’m sobbing uncontrollably, my body shaking with the force of it. The grief, the guilt, the pain—it all pours out of me, raw and unfiltered.

Nick holds me tighter, his hand stroking my hair, his lips pressing against my forehead in silent comfort.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice choking with tears. “I’m so sorry, Nick…”

He doesn’t say anything, just holds me as I cry, his presence grounding me, keeping me from spiraling completely into the darkness. The water turns darker; the crimson spreading through the tub like a stain that can’t be washed away. But Nick doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away. He stays with me, his strength my lifeline in this sea of despair.

When my sobs finally subside, and I’m too exhausted to cry anymore, he empties the tub and refills it with fresh water. He washes away the blood, the dirt, the remnants of the night’s horrors, all while whispering soothing words I can’t quite hear. I feel hollow, emptied out, but the numbness has lessened, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.

Nick helps me out of the bath and dries me off with a towel, his hands gentle as they move over my skin. He leads me to our bed, the soft sheets welcoming me as I collapse onto them. I curl up, pulling the sheet over me, trying to find some semblance of warmth, of comfort. Nick slides in beside me, his body pressed against mine, his arm draped over my waist.

I close my eyes, the weight of the day finally dragging me under. Sleep takes me, but even in my dreams, I can’t escape the memory of Caspian’s cold eyes, or the knowledge that Willow died because of me. The darkness surrounds me, but Nick’s presence is a faint light, keeping the worst of it at bay.

But for how long?

Chapter 34

The Santa

As soon as Carolina falls asleep, I sneak out of bed and get dressed again. After checking in with Marco, who stayed back to take care of the bodies, I make my way to my office and immediately open my laptop. While I look for my group chat with Jack and Ruby, I mentally go over how to tell them everything that’s happened.

Try as I might, there’s no rehearsing the words I’m about to spill. So instead of wasting my time doing that, I hit the call button.

The laptop screen glows with the familiar faces of Ruby and Jack. Ruby’s in a small, dark room, her face lit only by the harsh glow of her phone. The shadows accentuate the bruise forming on her cheek, and my chest tightens with a cold, familiar rage. Jack, on the other hand, is propped up in a hospital bed, his skin pale even against the white sheets. Seeing them together on the screen, yet worlds apart, brings a tightness to my chest that I can’t shake.

Jack is the first to speak, his voice weak but laced with the same cocky bravado he’s had since we were kids. “You look like shit, Nick. Long night?”

I manage a smirk, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “You could say that. But it’s over now.”

Ruby leans forward slightly, and even in the dim light, I can see the guarded look in her eyes. She’s waiting, always bracing herself for the worst. “What’s over?”

Taking a deep breath, I steady myself. I’ve always been the one to protect them, to shield them from the worst of it. But there’s no protecting them from this. “Dad’s dead.”

The silence that follows is heavy, almost suffocating. Ruby’s face doesn’t change much, but I see the flicker of something in her eyes—relief, maybe, or something darker. Jack, on the other hand, closes his eyes, a slow exhale escaping his lips, like he’s been holding his breath for years.

“It was him,” I continue, my voice cold and steady. “He’s the reason you’re in that hospital bed, Jack. The reason Willow’s dead. He betrayed us all.”

Jack’s eyes snap open, a flash of anger crossing his face. “That son of a bitch. I knew he was twisted, but this…” He makes a sound of disgust. “Fucker!”

Ruby’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “And you took care of it?”

I nod, meeting her gaze head-on. “I did what had to be done.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Ruby leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Good. He deserved worse than whatever you did to him.”

My eyes drift to the bruise on her cheek, the ugly mark marring her pale skin. The anger inside me flares again, hot and uncontrollable. I grit my teeth, the taste of bile rising in my throat. I don’t want to push her, not when she’s already on edge, but I can’t let this go.

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