Page 68 of Beautiful Ruins
“They dragged me back,” I recalled.“My men.They had to tackle me to the ground.I was still trying to get to her.”
The silence in the room felt sacred.
“She died in that car.So did my son.”
Her fingers smoothed up and down against me.
“How long ago?”she whispered.
“Six years.”
Her breath hitched.
The ceiling blurred.
“Not a day goes by,” I forced out, voice thick with emotion, “where I don’t think about what I could’ve done differently.If I’d gotten to the car first.If I hadn’t been late.If I’d kept them further away from my world.”
Izzy didn’t interrupt.She just listened.Rapt.Present.Attentive.And what I liked most about her was that she didn’t offer her pity.Just her presence.
“You know what the most twisted part is?”I stared at the ceiling like it might crack open and swallow the words before they reached her.“It’s the guilt.”
The words scraped past my throat on their way out.
“It eats at you,” I went on, my voice low and rough.“Slow.Steady.Like rust under the skin.Knowing she was angry at me when she got into that car.We’d argued about me being pulled in too many directions.”I swallowed.“I got caught up on a call.Business.Always business.I told her to go wait in the car.Told her I’d be two minutes.”
Two minutes.
“I remember the look she gave me,” I shared, and I couldn’t stop the feeling of guilt that washed over me.“Frustrated.Hurt.Tired of coming second.”
The memory tightened around my ribs.
“That bomb was meant for me.They wired it for my routine.My car.My schedule.My enemies.”My jaw flexed.“And instead, I sent her straight to it.I put her in that seat.”
Her fingers wound tighter around mine.
“That’s not on you, Raze.There’s no way you could’ve known.”
“Of course I couldn’t have known.”I forced myself to breathe.“If I had even suspected, I would’ve burned the city down before I let her touch that ignition.”
I turned my head to look at her.The shame settled uncomfortably in my chest.
“I chose work.Again.I told myself it was for us.For our future.For the empire he’d inherit.”A bitter laugh left me.
“You can’t do this to yourself,” she whispered.
“I thought losing them would kill me,” I admitted after a moment.“And in some ways, it did.”
I stared at my hands, remembering the way they’d clawed at metal that was too hot to touch.The way men had dragged me back while I fought them like an animal.The way I’d watched flames swallow everything.
“I replay it,” I told her.“Over and over.If I hadn’t answered that call.If I’d told her to stay inside.If I’d driven.If I’d insisted we take separate cars.If I’d left the life sooner.If I’d been less ambitious.Less ruthless.”My throat tightened.“There are a thousand versions of that night where she’s still alive.”
“But that’s not the one that happened,” she said gently.
“No.”I closed my eyes briefly.“It’s not.”
The air left me in a fragile gasp.
“She died thinking I was choosing something else over her.That’s what kills me.”My voice dropped.“I don’t even remember if I told her I loved her before she walked away.”
