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“Hmm.” He glanced away. “What are you apologizing for specifically, Seraphina?”
“For taking out my anger on the wrong person. You.” She took a step forward. “For making you the enemy when you were also a victim. I am sorry for what I took from you. ForwhoI took from you.”
He jerked then, his throat working. She wished she could hug him, but she already knew that was off-limits.
“I didn’t seeyouwhen I looked at you. I saw your father,” she told him. “I saw another man who’d lied to me, used me, taken from me, and I lashed out. I wanted to destroy him like he’d destroyed me, anyway I could.”
Hands in his pockets, Van released a broken laugh. “Only you didn’t realize my father didn’t give a shit about me and my sister.”
“No, I didn’t. But I also didn’t realize—or didn’t want to acknowledge—that you and your sister were innocent. Victims. Because then I would have had to accept that I had been a victim as well.” She shook her head vigorously. “I couldn’t accept that.”
“And instead you tortured me. You tortured Mel until she killed herself.”
“Yes,” she whispered. Driven by her hatred for their father, she’d unleashed her wrath on his children. Mel, Van’s sister, had become a casualty of that. She’d had an acute sensitivity to loud sounds that Sera had exploited until Mel took her own life in a last-ditch effort to escape the constant noise Sera had fed into her apartment. There was nothing else to say, no excuses to justify what she’d done. Only explanations forwhythat Donovan didn’t have to listen to. He didn’t have to accept it. And when he spoke her deeds as he did in such a weary monotone, she wanted nothing more than to beg for his forgiveness.
“You stole so much from me, do you know that?”
“Yes.”
This time Van was the one to move forward, still keeping his distance but closer than he’d been before. “You buried me alive.” His words shook and his muscles bunched. “You. Buried. Me. Alive.”
His pain, his anguish, battered her, almost sweeping her off her feet, but she dug her heels into the ground beneath her, curled her toes, and remained standing. He deserved this. She deserved this too. He had to do this and she had to see it up close, she had to see what she’d done.
The damage.
This was probably the first time she’d been up close and personal with the damage she’d caused. She made herself watch, made herself take it in. No looking away, no flinching. Raw and unfiltered.
“I was wrong.” Those words felt so small, so insignificant compared to the emotions shifting behind Van’s eyes. “I wish I could snap my fingers and change it. I wish I could erase the pain, the memories, the scars. I wish I hadn’t done any of it.”
His lips twitched as red-rimmed eyes watched her closely. “Are you here for him?” He didn’t have to elaborate for her to know he meant Israel. “Are you here for you? Or are you here for me?”
“I’m here for you, Donovan. It should have happened sooner, but I wasn’t really ready until now.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Ready for what?”
“To listen. To understand.”
Van pursed his lips then said, “My father blamed me for what you did to me. Waved it away like it was nothing.”
“Sounds like Mark.”
“You had an affair with him, didn’t you know who he was?”
An affair? She glanced around. “What’s with the chairs?”
“Izek is getting married in a few days,” he said, speaking of his son.
“Oh, damn. Time flies, huh?” She gestured. “Can I sit?” At his nod, she sat in one of the chairs. “I’d like to tell you the true history of your father and me. Will you listen?” He remained quiet as he stood over her and she took that as her cue to share her truth—everything she’d gone through with Christopher Cook and how he’d forced her to sleep with Mark Dulles, Van and Israel’s father, in order to blackmail him. “It was never an affair. And on our first time, I told your father I didn’t want it, that I didn’t want to do what he wanted, that Christopher was forcing me. I asked for his help to get away.” She licked her lips, breaking her gaze with Van. “He told Christopher what I said and in turn my husband had his men hold me down so Mark could have his way with me.” She hadn’t shared that part with Toro. Maybe because she hadn’t wanted to see pity in the eyes of the man she—
“I’m sorry for what my father did to you.”
She shook her head. “No. Don’t apologize for him. Not to me.” She blinked to ease the sting in her eyes. “You and your brother… I’m so glad you found each other. I’m glad you love each other. You’re so much better than me or Mark. And I want you to know, Donovan, that I’m sorry for what I did to you.” She touched a hand to her chest, looking up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t speak, just watched her.
She took a breath and braced for what else she had to share. This one could well end with her being killed by the man before her and she wouldn’t even be mad. She deserved his wrath. “That night you were at Israel’s place and I showed up. When Izek almost got shot…” There’d been a time when Israel had allowed her close to him, but in her mind it hadn’t been close enough. Their relationship—the one she’d thought she deserved—hadn’t been moving along fast enough for her. So she’d sought to speed it up by playing on her son’s sympathies. She’d set it all up for someone to shoot at her while in Israel’s presence. She hadn’t counted on Van and his family being present. Or for Izek, eighteen years old at the time, to be in the sniper’s scope. It’d been too late to call it off, so she’d stepped into the bullet’s path.
Van frowned when she trailed off. “What about it?”
