Page 39 of Ruthless Redemption

His chin raises before he nods.

He’s doing it again. Manipulating me. Molding reality.

“Stop it,” I snap. “Stop acting. Stop pretending like you give a fuck.”

“I’m not. I’d do anything for you.”

Agony screams inside me, bursting to break free. The pressure intensifies. The insanity builds.

I snatch for the knife. He doesn’t protest. The handle slides into my palm slippery and wet. I raise the blade to his neck, his eyes on mine as I hold the threat bare millimeters from his skin.

I could end this with a nick of his carotid. I could kill Emmanuel’s golden child. His firstborn. I could do what Cole asked of me and make up for the mistake of trusting a stranger. Abutcher.

“Do it, Layla.” Matthew slides his hand over mine, strengthening my threat against his neck. “If this is what it takes to heal you. If my death is what you need, take it.”

My skin awakens with goose bumps, every inch of me shivering despite the mindless adrenaline.

He adds pressure to the knife, digging the blade into his skin.

“Don’t.” I try to pull it back, but he denies me, his hold adamant and far stronger than my own.

Blood wells along the steel, the tiniest rivulet of red making me hyperventilate.

“I lied to buy more time with you,” he admits. “I knew once you found out about Emmanuel, you’d leave, and I couldn’t stand it. I hid who I was to quieten my fear of losing you. I hurt you because I can’t live without you.”

He slowly moves our hands, dragging the blade across his throat. It’s only light. The barest slice of skin, but it’s enough to carve flesh.

“Stop,” I warn.

He holds my gaze, the knife continuing its path of destruction.

“Stop.”

Blood seeps down his neck to his pristine shirt, the pure white tainted with deep red.

“You need this.” His eyes slay me. Slaughter.

“No.Youdo,” I accuse. “You’re trying to buy your way out of guilt and that’s not how this works. My pain will still be here once your cuts heal.”

“At least you acknowledge that I feel guilt.” His voice is a whisper. “I guess that’s a start.”

“I acknowledge that you’re doing this to take the easy way out. You want a quick fix.”

“Or maybe I’m givingyouthe easy way out. Because as long as I’m breathing, I won’t let you go, Layla.” He wraps his free hand around the back of my neck, his fingers gripping me tight. “End me or forgive me,amore mio. Put us out of our misery.”

I shake my head. Glaring. Faltering.

He leans in, his lips approaching mine. For a moment, I’m tempted to let him make everything disappear with the brush of his mouth, the taste of his tongue. But at the last second, I tilt my face away.

He growls, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest. “End me.” He grabs my chin and forces my gaze back to his. “Or fucking forgive me.”

“No. You can suffer.”

His eyes harden, his lip curling. “Then we suffer together.” He smashes his mouth to mine, the kiss harsh and punishing.

I scramble, frantically pulling my hand away from the knife, the weapon clattering to the floor. I fight, shoving, scratching.

He doesn’t quit. He keeps attacking me with his affection, slaughtering my defenses with his returned grip on my neck, cutting me down at the knees with the swipe of his tongue against my lips.

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