Page 24 of The Beast's Captive Bride
A flicker of something—regret? guilt?—crosses his face, quickly replaced by defiance. "What are you going to do? Kill me? You'll never see daylight again. Amber will know what you really are."
Amber. Her name in his mouth feels like desecration. "Amber already knows what I am. What I've done. And she chose me anyway." A truth that still staggers me daily. "She's mine now, Richard. Legally. Willingly. In every way that matters."
"You've brainwashed her," he spits. "My daughter would never?—"
"Your daughter," I cut in coldly, "is a remarkable woman you never bothered to know. You treated her like property, like an extension of yourself. Just another asset to control." I straighten, looking down at him with contempt. "She deserved better than you. She found it with me."
"With her kidnapper?" He laughs, the sound harsh in the stone room. "How noble of you."
"I never claimed to be noble." I circle behind him, enjoying the way he strains to keep me in sight. "I took her as leverage against you. But she became something else entirely."
"And yet here we are." His voice steadies, finding that executive confidence again. "You've got me tied to a chair in your basement. What's the end game, Blackwood? Torture? Murder? How does that give you Amber's happily ever after?"
My hands clench at my sides. He's not wrong. I've imagined this confrontation countless times over fifteen years, but always as an endpoint—the final act of my revenge. I never considered the after. Never thought I'd have something—someone—worth protecting when it was over.
"You're going to sign over controlling interest in Lockhart Industries to me," I tell him, the plan forming as I speak. "You're going to admit publicly to the fraud, the bribery, the Jakarta deaths. And then you're going to disappear, Richard. Far away from Amber. Far away from me."
"Or what?" he challenges. "You'll kill me? With my daughter upstairs? You think she'll forgive that?"
"I think she'll understand justice." But even as I say it, I see Amber's face in my mind—those clear blue eyes clouded with pain, with horror at what I've done.
"You don't know my daughter at all." Richard's voice softens, becoming almost paternal. "Amber has her mother's heart. She couldn't bear knowing you'd hurt anyone, especially her father." His eyes, so like Amber's but colder, sharper, meet mine. "Kill me, and you lose her forever. Is revenge worth that price?"
The question strikes deeper than he knows, piercing the armor of rage I've worn so long. Is revenge worth losing Amber? The answer should be simple—fifteen years of hatred against a few weeks of unexpected happiness. And yet...
"You don't get to speak about her," I growl, pulling the gun from my holster. "Not after how you treated her. Not after you tried to control every aspect of her life."
"And what are you doing, if not controlling her?" Richard counters, eyeing the gun but keeping his voice steady. "Keeping her isolated, away from friends, family, the life she knew. How are you any different?"
The comparison lands like a physical blow. Am I any better than him? The question claws at me, unwelcome and impossible to ignore.
"I love her," I say, the words strange in my mouth. I've never said them aloud before, barely acknowledged them even to myself. "Everything I've done since she came here has been to protect her."
"Even this?" Richard jerks his head toward the gun in my hand. "Will killing her father protect her?"
Before I can answer, the basement door crashes open.
"Cullen!" Amber's voice pierces the tense silence. "What are you—Daddy?"
My heart plummets as she appears in the doorway, face pale with shock as she takes in the scene—her father bound to a chair,me standing over him with a gun. Her eyes, wide with horror, move between us, settling finally on me with a question I can't bear to see.
"Amber, get out of here," I order, though I know it's useless. My wife has proven herself as stubborn as she is beautiful.
"Amber, honey," Richard's voice transforms instantly, becoming gentle, concerned. "Are you alright? Has he hurt you?"
She ignores him, stepping further into the room, focus entirely on me. "Cullen, what are you doing? Put the gun down."
The command in her voice surprises me. Gone is the shy girl I kidnapped; in her place stands a woman of quiet strength, unafraid even in this grim tableau.
"You don't understand," I tell her, though I don't lower the weapon. "What he did to me?—"
"I know what he did." She moves closer, slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. "You told me. He betrayed you, stole from you, tried to kill you. I believe you."
"Then you know why this has to happen." My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.
"No." She shakes her head firmly. "No, it doesn't have to happen. Nothing has to happen." Another step closer. "Please, Cullen. This isn't you anymore."
"Isn't it?" The question tears from me, raw and desperate. "This is who I've been for fifteen years, Amber. The man planning this moment. The man living for revenge."
