The gun in my hand makes my palm tingle with the urge to use it on this man who has taken it upon himself to step into the role of my father figure even though he’s only a little over a decade older than me. Even though, without him, my mother and I would be rendered homeless.
However, this man is not my father.
My father, for all his flaws and wickedness, would have sooner killed himself if it meant preventing me from following in his footsteps.
Emotion burns through me like a ravenous inferno.
After a few breaths, I straighten to face him. The look in his eyes, unlike the two men dragging away Derek’s corpse, is not one of indifference, but compassion.
The flames of my fury sputter.
“I want you to trust that this world is a better place without him...”
Wouldn’t it be a better place without you, too?
My finger absently caresses the trigger as Astor leans in, voice dropping to a murmur that only I can hear.
“But I will not deny that it corrupts the soul regardless. That it’s dangerous, and no matter how hard I try, I won’t always be there to protect you in dangerous situations. And now that you’ve experienced a fraction of what is required of you, if you wish to take a different path in life, I will not stop you.”
Astor’s words take a moment to fully register—to douse my rage in a shock of cold water.
“What?”
He studies me for a moment, piercing silver gaze further illuminated by the sun-drenched skin and dark hair framing it.
For the first time since I’ve known Astor, I watch his mask of calm slip. His hand comes up, scrubbing down his face.
“Walk with me.”
Astor leadsme along a pier just as morning’s twilight surrenders to the triumphant rays of the sun. When we come to one of the weather-resistant aluminum benches, he takes a seat at one end, folding his thickly muscled arms across his chest as I settle beside him.
“You remind me of me.”
My brows knit together.
I don’t want to be anything like you.
As if Astor can read my mind, his gaze shifts from the abandoned marina’s sunrise to my face and chuckles. “Try not to look so insulted.”
Oh, fuck.
I may have just contemplated murdering this man, but I’m still terrified of him.
Still wary of this whole situation and silently wondering if he’s going to shoot me and shove my body into the water for the sharks to claim, because I hesitated to kill Derek and have a weak stomach for murder.
My expression must be comical because he bursts into sad, albeit hearty laughter.
Should I be reassured or run for my life?
When his laughter calms, he drapes one arm over the back of the bench.
“Your dad’s not around, is he?”
Fuck, why does that question still hurt so much?
The emotion suddenly stinging my eyes forces my gaze to return to the ocean.
“He would be if he could.”