Oh God. My stomach squeezed as I slapped my hand over my mouth. His “why” had my knees buckling, knowing that statement was only the start.

“My brothers and I couldn’t allow her killer to walk free, so we took his life.” He shoved away from the counter, and his following words burned hard and fast from his lips. “And I’d do it again and a hundred times over.” He faced me, breathing hard. “Just like I would if someone hurt you. Or hurt our son. Like I’ve already done.” The “already done” hit me like a body shot, sending my other hand over my mouth as he finished, “At the rave.”

His eyes widened at the realization of what he said, and he came my way.

If it were anyone else, I would’ve flinched and turned away, but for him, I didn’t. I couldn’t.

And when he gently removed my hands from my face to draw me into his embrace, I didn’t resist. In fact, I fell headfirst into the feeling of safety he gave me.

He quietly wrapped me up in his arms, cradling the back of my head while I let the reality of everything he’d said sink in as I reconciled what he’d done and converted his words into something that made sense.

His sister was murdered, and he took revenge. And he saved our son by taking a life. Not a low-level gang thing if he had to get blood on his hands.

If it weren’t for him holding me upright, the spinning room would’ve taken me down. No more going with the flow. I finally understood why they were both anxious for me not to learn the truth about what went down at the rave, why we were living under his roof.

“Say something.” His strangled, emotion-driven words reminded me of Colin’s from earlier, and they awakened something inside me.

I untangled myself from his hold to look up at him. “I’m so sorry,” was all I could come up with. The weight of those words felt so insignificant for how I truly felt. “I’m so sorry you lost your sister, but I’m not sorry for the life you took because she died. Or the life you took to save my son.” I sniffled, catching a tear with my tongue.

He grasped my arms as if I’d float away, when in reality I was anchored to the floor, still grounded in shock.

“I’m so sorry she was taken from you,” I cried when more and more made sense—me being drawn to his sister’s church and the note in his wallet from her that he needed back. “I’m sorry I pushed you. You don’t even know me, and I shouldn’t have pushed.”