Page 71 of Of Vows and Betrayal

“I don’t care,” I snap, my voice trembling. “I need to get out of here. I need to be somewhere… anywhere but here.”

“Running won’t change anything,” he says softly, taking another step closer. “It won’t bring him back. It won’t undo what’s been done.”

My flimsy control snaps.

“What you’ve done!” I shout, balling my hands into fists. “You killed my father.”

“No, I didn’t. I couldn’t do that to you despite?—”

“Yes, you did!” I feel my nails bite into my palms, grounding me somehow. “Your actions did and?—”

“Your father killed my wife!” he roars, voice cracking with raw emotion, and I recoil.

The room seems to be frozen in the moment, his words still echoing on the walls. It’s dead silent, and my eyes fall to the crying dove on his chest… Paloma. That’s the name Father Hernandez said.

I feel disgust at myself and at him—tainting even more the moments we shared. I kissed that dove. I caressed it as we made love. I loved a tattoo that was done in honor of his dead wife.

“I don’t believe you.”

“And yet he did, on my wedding day.”

I take another couple of steps back until my back is against the wall. “You’re a liar. Everything you said to me, everything we did was a lie.” Except I can see the sorrow and righteous vengeance in his eyes. I know it’s the truth.

“No.” His jaw tightens. “How can you say that? How?—”

“Was it all a setup? Did you even save me—truly?”

I see shame flash in his eyes, and it stings. It was a lie from the start.

He reaches for my cheek, and I slap his hand away. “Do not touch me,” I bark. “Just answer the damn questions! Have some decency and give me at least that.”

He straightens up and takes a step back, giving me the distance I crave. “What do you want to know?”

My breath comes in shallow gasps, and I try to steady myself. “Did you know who I was from the beginning?”

“Yes,” he admits, his voice low. “I knew who you were. “

“Did you plan everything? The attack, the rescue… all of it?”

His eyes flicker with guilt and a bit of defiance. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way,” he says, a hint of regret in his voice. “They were never supposed to hurt you.”

“Because that was your job, huh?” My hand is shaking with my need to slap him.

“It was not personal. I didn’t know you then.”

I cock my head to the side. “And that’s justification enough?”

He looks straight at me. “Yes. But then I?—”

“How did you know I’d be there? Did you track my phone? Was Jenna working for you?”

“No, she wasn’t.”

I feel relieved that my friend was real, but it only lasts a second before he adds, “Jenna was Derek.”

Oh god, that one guts me too. The pierced, tattooed guy from the fair. I felt an instant connection with him… I guess that was a trick too.

“Anything else?”

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