I Destroyed An Innocent Girl’s Life To Trap My Boyfriend — And He Still Wants To Marry Me
Part 2
The silence stretches out, heavy and suffocating, as I wait for the confession to spill from her lips.
I can almost see the fragile structure of her resolve trembling under the weight of her love for Tyler.
If she asks for my help right now, if she begs me to intervene and save her from Dan, I don’t know if I can summon the cruelty to deny her.
Instead, the terrifying vulnerability in her expression hardens into a mask of pure steel.
I’m sure.
Heather stares firmly at the scuffed toes of her shoes, her voice remarkably steady.
Good luck to you, Brenda.
She lifts her head, offering me a soft, genuine smile that twists the knife deeper into my gut.
I hope you and your mate are very happy together.
The sheer sincerity lacing her parting words hits me harder than a physical blow.
She actually means it.
She is walking into the arms of a man she believes is a violent criminal, completely abandoning her own happiness, and she still wishes me well.
My reply scrapes out of my throat, significantly weaker than I intended.
A brief, meaningless thanks in return.
I stand rooted behind my heavy desk, watching Heather disappear through the heavy oak door.
She is walking out of my office, and hopefully, entirely out of my life forever.
It will ultimately be to her benefit.
I fully plan on securing her future from afar, ensuring the mercenaries provide her with a comfortable, untraceable life.
It will be a very happy life for her.
It just won’t be a life she will ever be permitted to share with Tyler.
That would be asking too much of my precarious situation.
Generosity has never been a trait I possess.
Hours later, the heavy scent of old leather and tension is replaced by the sterile smell of nylon suitcases.
Craig and I are packing our bags in the bedroom, moving in a synchronized rhythm.
It mostly feels as if we are physically packing our troubles away into the dark canvas.
With each neatly folded shirt tucked away, there is one less variable to be concerned about.
We are heading back to his pack today.
Soon, all our chaotic troubles will be completely behind us.
I just desperately need some quiet time alone with my mate.
I want to exist without constantly worrying about maintaining my iron grip on the drug ring.
Is it really too much to ask for a peaceful life?
The magnetic pull to be near him is intense, practically a physical ache when we are separated by even a few feet.
Every time I look at him, every time I picture our quiet, mundane future, I know I made the right choice.
Soon, my divorce with Greg will be finalized.
Our mating was sudden, a chaotic whirlwind of emotion and necessity, but the thought of marrying Craig fills me with an overwhelming sense of rightness.
Everything feels perfect.
He zipped up the final suitcase, completely unaware of the burner phone vibrating in my pocket with a confirmation from the mercenaries—but as a sudden, frantic pounding erupted at our front door, my heart stopped: who had tracked us down, and would Craig’s unconditional love survive the monster about to break in?
