“I know she means a lot to you already,” I add quickly. “I’m not stupid. Neither is Dylan. That was the first time you’ve been at the dining table in weeks. Ever since—”
“Don’t.” He snaps, shaking his head.
I grit my teeth, forcing myself to remain calm. “We need to talk about it, eventually. She’s going to find out—”
“Olive never needs to find out,” he spits. “Never.”
Every time we have this conversation, it never ends well.
Despite that, I push for Olive’s sake.
“I don’twanther to. But don’t you think she should know what happened—”
“Do you want to knowwhyshe should never know?” He growls, turning away and typing angrily. “Because ofthis.”
He plays a grainy video on his computer, one with a woman being sedated while screaming. Afterwards, she’s strapped to a gurney by nurses and wheeled away.
“This was taken atEden. Recognize her?” He adds, an edge of hysteria in his voice.
I take a step closer, squinting, until I realize who it is.
“Fuck,” I murmur. “Holy fucking shit.”
“Yeah,” he says. “She was watching it before she came down for dinner. I watched itwithher.”
Fuck.
Brock’s eyes are anguished, and his voice breaks on the last words.
It’s the most vulnerable I’ve seen him.
“And this was at fuckingEden,” I mutter.
He nods warily.
TheI told you sois on the tip of my tongue.
It would be so easy to dig the knife in, to wreck him with my words.
And I want to. God, how I fucking want to.
But then I picture Olive’s face, and I stop myself.
“She can never know,” he whispers, pained. “She’d never forgive us.”
No, she’d never forgiveyou.
“Right. Well, like I came in here to tell you—try to be nice to her. And don’t throw a fit when things don’t go your way. Because if you make her cry, I’ll cut out your fucking tongue out so you’ll never say a cruel word to her again.”
Whoops. I tried to be nice.
He scowls but says nothing.
I turn to leave.
“Killian,” he adds, when I get to the doorway.
“Yeah?”
“I’m coming with you guys to get her suppressants.”
I roll my eyes. “I already knew that, dumbass.”
I shut the door behind me.