Page 18 of Redemption
I don’t know what to say, but when I open my mouth, words fall out of their own volition. “Maybe it’s not falling apart. Maybe it’s falling together.”
Chapter Nine
Lachlan
“Maybe it’s falling together.” Keira’s words are the only thing that keeps me from losing it as I park a good distance away and walk alone toward the mausoleum I had built for myself before she came into my life.
Now, it will be V’s final resting place.
My loyal and faithful best friend. He was the closest thing I’d ever known to a brother—until yesterday. And because of me, he’s gone from this world.
It should’ve been me whose life was ended, not his. V deserved better than that. So much fucking better. But I can’t change what happened. All I can do is accept the consequences and live with them.
Clenching my fists at my sides, I fight through the sharp waves of grief to keep my footsteps even. I wish Keira were here so I could lean on her steely strength, because mine is in short supply as darkness wells up in my soul.
As I reach the ostentatious mausoleum, with its Roman columns and marble statue of Lady Justice with her sword drawn, my heart feels like it’s being shredded in my chest.
This could have been for Aurora. I could be burying my baby girl right now.
The reality of what I’ve created is almost more than I can bear.
I’m tired of death.
I’m tired of violence.
I’m tired of putting my family at risk.
I’m tired of this life I created.
I’m tired of being Lachlan Mount.
I think of the brother I met yesterday. The one who looks identical to me, but who could never be like me. We may share the same DNA, but life has forged us into completely different men.
How many of his friends has he buried? I can’t help but wonder. How many men has he killed?
I’d be willing to bet my entire empire that the number is zero.
And good for him. To take a life is nothing of which to be proud. Nothing to celebrate. And as many as I have taken … it fragments your soul.
The more good people I lose, the more I value life. And to put my innocent daughter’s life at risk … what kind of man does that make me?
What kind of woman would my daughter become if she were raised within my world of death, brutality, and violence?
I told myself it would never touch her. I told myself I could protect them both.
I lied.
To myself and to Keira.
I thought I could control everything the way I’d always done—with an iron will, a clever mind, and a willingness to do what no one else would dare.
But I couldn’t.
I failed, even if my wife won’t admit it.
I turn to walk through the marble columns, into this final resting place, where I should be the one the priest is praying over. Instead, he prays over the urn containing the final remains of my best friend.
As he notices me, I’m faced with the truth I can no longer evade: I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be this man. I can’t live this life any longer. My soul is screaming at me to run away. Far, far away.
