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“You’ve always thought you’re better than I am. During school, in business, everywhere. Hell, you even managed to steal Sophia from me.”
That’s because you’re an asshole.
“I loved her, more than you’ll ever know.”
I bark out a laugh. “Loved her? If I’m remembering correctly—and I know I am—she was terrified of you.”
“Because you poisoned her against me,” Tristan snaps, coming to stand in front of me. His hands are shoved in his pockets. “It’s about time I do the same to you. Although—” He looks around with a smirk. “I don’t see her here. Couldn’t get over the fact that she prefers me now, huh?”
“Leave Sophia out of this,” I say, my voice low and even.
“Of course you don’t think she deserves the truth. She was in love with a murderer.”
“Leave. her. out. of. this.”
With a cruel smile twisting his face, Tristan takes another step forward. “I don’t have to involve her, Alexander. You already did. I know you murdered your father. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it. After that? Think how Sophia will feel about herself. She fell in love with a cold-blooded killer. She’ll never trust her judgment again.”
My blood runs cold. The Graysons and I covered up Francis’s murder perfectly—right down to me having a solid alibi. But the idea that we missed something has always lingered in the back of my head.
If I go to prison, fine. But Sophia getting hurt in the process? That I will never, ever be okay with.
My fist meets Tristan’s jaw before I even realize what I’m doing. He stumbles back, bringing a hand to his face.
“Beat me all you want,” he says, straightening. “I’ll find what I need to prove that you’re responsible for Francis’s death.”
He swings at me, but I dodge easily—just for him to kick me right in the knee.
I hit the ground, ignoring the way the pavement scrapes at my skin. All of my focus is on the knife Tristan just pulled from his jacket.
“I may need you alive, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you.”
That’s when I see her. Her eyes are wide, her blonde hair shining in the moonlight. And the fear on her face? I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wash that from my memory.
Dominic is moving in, a gun in his hands.
Some men would hate the idea of being rescued. Some men would get up from their knees and fight, knife be damned.
But me? Maybe I’m more in control of my ego. Smarter. Or maybe I’m a coward. But I stay right where I am. And when Tristan lunges for me, Dominic doesn’t hesitate to shoot.
The knife clatters to the ground. Tristan clutches his chest, gasping as blood stains his shirt. Without hesitation, I scramble to my feet and yank him up.
When my fist hits the spot on his shirt stained with blood, he screams. I do it again, for Sophia, and then shove him backwards.
He falls into the water with no more than a pathetic grunt.
Blaze comes crashing through the patio door, weapon in hand. “What the hell happened?” He stops next to me, staring at the man thrashing in the pool below us. “Fuck.”
Dominic joins us, and we watch as Tristan’s body stills.
And it hits me.
Sophia.
Turning, I find her frozen solid, her feet planted where she was when I first saw her. When my eyes meet hers, she stumbles backward.
“Sophia—”
She turns and runs before I can get another word out. I chase after her, calling out her name, cursing myself as she disappears around a corner.
