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Flames leap up the massive chimney, radiating a warm glow and heat that starts to seep into my bones the moment we move in front of it. Weston lowers himself into the chair and takes me with him, settling me across his lap, where he can keep his arms wrapped around me fully.
I burrow into him and let my eyes drift closed, enjoying the quiet for one brief moment before the shit hits the proverbial fan. Because I know it’s coming—something I won’t want to hear but need to.
There’s no other reason he’s hidden so much from me except if he fears it will change how I feel about him.
He shifts slightly under me, releasing a little sigh. “I don’t even know where to start…”
I lift my head and search his gray eyes. “At the beginning.”
He snorts. “That was a long time ago for me, Beauty.”
Grinning at him, I drag my fingers through his thick, rough, white beard. “Not that long.”
He slowly brushes a strand of hair off my temple behind my ear and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You know I grew up here…”
“Yeah.” I think back to all the stories I read in the journals about how the Barkers chose this mountain for its strategic placement in the range over the valley, its remoteness, and its defensibility. “Your family’s owned the property forever.”
He nods slowly and scans the room. “Not much has changed except me. The Barkers have all lived and died in this house since they built it. My mother giving birth to my sister, so it was just us and my dad all alone up here.” He stares into the flames. “Though, Dad spent most of his time in Helena, and we were taken care of by nannies, which frankly was better than the alternative of him being here all the time.”
Weston doesn’t need to say more. The truth is there between his words. Still, I feel like this may be my only chance to get him to actually open up about the wounds that seem to fester so deeply inside him.
“Was it that bad?”
His eyes darken, a ghostly shadow overtaking them. “He was abusive in ways I’m not going to get into. A carryover from the way his father treated him, no doubt. And his father before him. You’ve read enough about the Barkers from their own hands to know they don’t tolerate weakness or failure. Dad expected us to fall in line and do what we were told. He expected perfection, and that started at a very young age.”
I don’t even want to ask the question because I fear the answer I’ll receive, but I somehow manage to get it out. “What did he make you do?”
His jaw hardens as he continues to stare into the flames, like they’re transporting him directly back to another time. “He turned me into what you thought I was.”
Something lodges in my throat, and I try to swallow past it.
What I thought he was…
The Beast.
The Barker family attack dog.
A reaper who takes out anyone who crosses them or stands in their way.
“You mean…he made you kill for the family?”
He gives me a sharp nod, unwilling to look me in the eye. “We’ve always controlled everything through fear, through manipulation and threats. Once I hit about eighteen, he expected me to take over that portion of the business.”
“And you became The Beast.”
Weston turns his head slowly, and his gaze finally meets mine, so full of regret and sorrow that it makes tears form in my eyes. “I did what I had to do to survive. To survive him. There’s no walking away from being a Barker anymore than there’s escaping our wrath when you find yourself on the wrong side of us. I couldn’t just leave. It wouldn’t have been fair to Wendy. I didn’t want her to be alone with him in this life, in this world. I tried to protect her—”
“You did a great job. Look at everything she’s accomplished. I mean, she escaped! She broke free from all of this, and she’s the goddamn governor.”
He doesn’t respond to my observation; he just returns his focus to the fireplace. “All of this with your father started with Rosewood.”
“I already know they’re a family allied with yours and that they control the port. Dad told me everything.”
His body stiffens, and he shakes his head. “No, he didn’t. It’s more than that. We aren’t just simple allies.” He swallows thickly, his gaze cutting to mine, fear lurking there. “I was engaged to Eliza Rosewood.”
A pang of something that burns hot but flashes green like jealousy strikes me straight in the chest, and I start to pull away from him slightly, but he tugs me closer, pinned me to him with his solid arms.
When I try to turn away, he grabs my face and forces it back.
