Page 101 of Deadly Vows

Wyatt’s expression shifts to that of pity, and he leans forward, placing his cup on the coffee table.

“I can see that you’ve been through some shit. And I know it isn’t my place to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do. But if you’re in some kind of trouble, maybe I can help,” he says.

I slowly look away from Roscoe. Wyatt is watching me with a serious expression.

“How would you do that?” I ask.

“If cops are out of the question, maybe we go to someone higher up, maybe—”

“Like the government?” I ask.

He nods.

I laugh, shaking my head.

“Do you work for them?” I ask.

“I did for a bit. I was put on leave recently after sticking my nose somewhere it didn’t belong,” he says.

I fight the panic settling in my chest. If there’s one thing I trust less than the police, it’s the government, especially since they are the ones who put me in this position in the first place.

“So…you’re a good person then?” I ask.

Now Wyatt laughs. “I try my best. It’s why I joined the bureau.”

I quickly stand, startling him and his dog.

“I need to go,” I say, making my way to the bedroom for the coat.

I hear Wyatt calling after me, but I ignore him as my fear grows. He is quite literally one of the worst people who could have saved me.

“What are you doing? You can’t go out there in this!” he calls to me from the doorway as I pull the fur coat over my shoulders, clumsily gripping the knife in my hands as I aim it at him threateningly.

“You can’t stop me,” I hiss.

He shakes his head, stepping back.

“I’m not trying to. A storm is rolling in. You’ll freeze to death,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought it would help—I thought you would feel safer knowing I am on the right side of the law—”

“You’re not on the right side. You’re on the worst side. You’re on the side that pretends to serve those who need you when in reality, you are in service to whoever has the biggest wallet,” I snap.

Wyatt looks taken aback.

“I don’t—”

“I was sold, Wyatt. I was sold to the highest bidder because your colleagues are in someone else’s back pocket. They chased me down, dragged me from the street, and put me in an auction all to get at my husband, who is a very powerful man,” I snap. “He controls everything in this country, including you. He could very well be why you were put on leave if you stuck your nose too far into his business.”

Wyatt watches me steadily as understanding crosses his features.

Tears spill over as my frustration mounts, and I don’t hold them back.

“You’re a nice person, I see that. But I can’t believe it—not after everything I’ve been through—everything I’ve seen. No one can help me, least of all you. So please…stop asking me to get help. Just let me pretend that I am free for a second,” I say.

Wyatt releases a deep breath, unable to look me in the eyes.

“I’m sorry…I’ll give you some space,” he says, moving away from the door. To my shock, he closes it behind him. He doesn’t press me on who my husband is or try to drag me back up the mountain after confirming I am someone important.

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