Page 72 of Submission

“You didn’t kill him. His blood isn’t on your hands.”

Megan takes a few seconds to calm herself and then asks in a relatively quieter voice, “That’s what you read in the report?”

“Peter was recovering in the hospital. Neither you nor Rachel hit any major arteries or organs when you stabbed him. They were flesh wounds. He would have been fine.”

“Then what the hell happened? I don't understand.”

“There was a mix-up with his IV medication at the hospital, and he went into cardiac arrest.”

“A hospital error?” she says in disbelief.

“That’s why there wasn’t an additional investigation of the case and why you weren’t questioned again. The case was closed.”

“Why didn’t I know any of this?”

“Because Samuel didn’t want you to know. How could he hold those pictures over your head if you knew the truth?”

Megan lets out a shuddering breath. “I see.”

“I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about any of this anymore. You won’t ever have to see those people again, and you certainly don’t have to pay Samuel another red cent. Those days are behind you.”

“And the pictures?”

“Are either in their phones, their cloud drives, or their computers. Vaughn will find them and permanently delete them.”

She looks up at me, and I see the puffiness around her eyes. “Vaughn knows about this?”

She sounds defeated, and I hate it. I don’t think she’s fully comprehended what I’ve revealed to her about Peter’s death.

I gently pull her into my arms. “Yes, that’s what Vaughn does for a living. He knows all of my secrets and I trust him with my life. Do you trust me with yours?”

I see the tears well up in her eyes, and this time, I hold her to my chest, doing something I never imagined myself to be doing.

I comfort her.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Megan,” I tell her in hushed tones. “You never did anything wrong.”

It’s easy to be gentle around her, and as I run my fingers through her hair, I look down at her and see a reflection of myself in her eyes that I almost don’t recognize.

She’s changed me.

“Is this hell really over?” she asks.

“It’s definitely over and I’m glad they’re going to get what they deserve,” I murmur as I stroke her hair as she just rests her head on my chest.

She quietly snuggles into me, and I don’t mind this position as we lay there in silence. It’s only when I look down a half hour later that I realize she’s fallen asleep on me.

I slide my phone out of my pocket and try sending a text carefully so I won't wake her.

Me: I need you to do a clean digital sweep of Dante’s new guests. Everything. I want it to appear as if they never existed.

Vaughn: On it.

I could make Megan more comfortable and move, but I don’t want to. Her weight on top of me is soft, and I just want her to hold her like this for as long as I can.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me,” I whisper against her hair. “But I don’t want to let you go.”

Suddenly, I realize what Vaughn and Christian have been alluding to for weeks.

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