Page 71 of Point of No Return

“Maybe your brother was right,” she says, and it goes without saying what she means: I’m just likehim. Tyson.

My brother said the words not even minutes ago, but hearing it from her hits a fucking string. She hops off the counter, wincing as she shifts her weight off her foot before limping toward the exit.

Maybe I just want to get a rise out of her. Or maybe I just hate when she walks away from me. But I call over my shoulder to her:

“How long has Eva been hitting you?”

She halts in the doorway. I look over at her again, her usual carefree and easy-going demeanor slipping away more and more by the second.

“At first, I thought it might’ve been your father. But I’ve seen you two interact… Your father doesn’t have it in him to hurt anyone. So how long has your mother been hitting you?”

Her face is blank, but tension is taut in every single one of her muscles. Whether or not she knows better than to lie, I’m not sure. She says nothing as I take another step toward her anyways, steering clear of the shattered glass still on the ground.

“If it was her funeral and not Tyson’s, how would you be?”

Charlotte’s eyes flash. It’s pain- maybe fear- that I see in them. I don’t expect an answer. I expect her to curse at me, to tell me to fuck off like Aleks did.

Hell, maybe that’s just what I want her to do. Her shoulders deflate almost as if she finally doesn’t have a clue what to say to me.

“I don’t know,” she answers, and it might very well be the most honest thing she’s ever said. She glances down the hallway, reluctance slowly slipping away. “Are you going to carry me to bed or do I have to go and ask Aleks?”

There’s a gleam in her eye, and I know she has no intention of me taking her tomybed. But the idea has my blood rushing south.

I can’t. We can’t.And yet I can’t fucking help myself.

When I reach her, those green eyes are gleaming and wide as she flips her thick hair over her shoulder. I’m tempted to run my fingers through it, to wrap the long strands around my fist and tilt her head back to look at me.

Instead, I grip her waist and lift. Her legs wind around my hips, and I have to concentrate on walking to avoid thinking about how good her thighs feel in my hands. I tense when I feel her fingers gently tracking down my throat, tracing over the tattoos.

Fuck, this woman…

The door to our room is open. The sheets are still rumpled from sleep, and when I set her down in them, she bounces twice before laying back on her elbows.

“When Tyson and my father came by Viper, what did they want?”

It all feels so long ago now… but I’d been more than furious when they showed up. I raise my brow. “Your parents didn’t tell you?”

She huffs a laugh but sits up. “When was I supposed to find out? I’ve hardly seen them since the wedding.”

I frown. Charles probably wasn’t planning on telling her anyways. “I… made some changes before Tyson died. He wasn’t happy about them.”

It’s her turn to raise a brow. “You bought Tyson out of the house. The businesses too, I’m guessing.” I cross my arms. “You knew he was dying.” She narrows her eyes. “Why bother?”

I expect the question, but it doesn’t mean I’m prepared to answer it. Not in truth- not yet. “I was tired of him showing up here without invitation.”

“What did the changes have to do with my father?” she asks.

“The changes affected part of the will,” I concede. “Your father lost any claim he would’ve had on Viserion.”

“Would have had?”

“Yes,” I watch the careful rise and fall of her chest as I reveal the information. “When Tyson was gone. And in the event I’m dead.”

Her eyes widen, her fingers fisting the sheets. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I assumed he had.”

Her green eyes watch me for a few long moments. Her throat bobs as she swallows and goosebumps prick her skin as she swings her legs over the side of the bed.

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