He’s quiet as he paces across the room, refusing to look at me, and in my desperation for his understanding, I rush to get the rest out. I go on to explain how I knew it was a stupid idea, but I thought I could trust her. I could never have predicted that she was in bed with the enemy too. That mistake almost cost Santiago his life, and I was trying to make it right. That’s why I went to the courtesan’s apartment tonight. I just wanted to make it right, so he’d forgive me.

"How can I believe anything you tell me?" He turns and shakes his head. "How can I believe any of what you're telling me now is even true?"

"Because she told me so herself!" I bellow.

"When you were beating it out of her?"

The silence is deafening as I try to recover from that fatal blow, the reminder I don't need. He doesn't have to tell me what happened. I’ll never forget.

"It wasn't like that," I whisper on a shaky breath. "I was fighting for my life. I didn't mean to kill her, but I had no choice. It was either her or me."

Santiago collapses into the chair by the door, and I can see that nothing I’ve said has managed to soften his anger. It eats at me, and I just wish he’d look at me for one second without complete revulsion. As I consider that it might never happen, a fresh wave of tears washes over me.

"Would you rather it was me? Is that it? Do you wish it were me who was dead on that floor?"

"What I would have rathered was that you never lied to me at all!" he roars. "You betrayed me. You schemed. You nearly fucking killed me. My own sister. Do you understand that?"

I suck in a sharp breath and stare at him pleadingly. "I would rather die than hurt you, brother. Please believe that, if nothing else."

His eyes move over me, his grief palpable. He feels as if he’s lost me too. But instead of death, it was the darkness that stole me. I’m too far beyond redemption, and he’s tired of trying to save me. I can feel it in my bones. It rattles my teeth, and for a second, the agony makes me wish I were actually dead. Perhaps that would have been the best outcome for everyone tonight. If I’d given up the fight and let her win, at least I wouldn’t have had to witness this anguish from the one person who’s always loved me, even at my worst. I wouldn’t have to feel him giving up on me.

“Get in bed and try to get some sleep,” he says quietly.

“What’s going to happen now?” I argue.