Page 111 of The Ashes of Summer

He breaks off coughing. I move to help him adjust and he hisses, pain twisting across his face—and then he looks at me and smiles anyway.

God. I love him so much it hurts.

And I'm so thankful I'm here. That I got out, with my best friends and the man I love and⁠—

Harris.

Oh God. Harris.

Reality comes crashing back so hard it takes the air out of me. The last time I saw him he was face-down on that gravel with blood in his mouth, and I ran. I left him there.

And everything else comes with it. Papa. The club. The women.

My smile dies.

"Jacob…"

His expression changes instantly.

I swallow. "Papa." Pain twists through my chest. "He went to the club. He⁠—"

"I know."

I freeze.

His eyes stay on mine. "I know, baby."

The grief hits all over again. "He caused all of this."

Jacob's jaw goes tight. I genuinely think he's angrier about that than the hole in his shoulder.

"I'm so fucking sorry," he says quietly.

And the emotion in it wrecks me, because it isn't pity. It isn't obligation. It's real sorrow—he hates that this pain belongs to me now, he'd take it off me and carry it himself if there were any way to do it.

"He destroyed so many lives," I whisper.

His hand tightens around mine. "That blame belongs to him. Not you."

But it doesn't feel that simple. Not with everything I know now. Not with Harris bleeding on that driveway. Not with Jacob dying beside me because my father made a monster and then left me to pay what he owed.

A pained grunt leaves Jacob's throat.

My head snaps round. His pupils have blown wide. His face is paler than it was a minute ago.

"Jacob?"

He exhales sharply through his nose and reaches into his pocket, and the movement clearly costs him.

"What are you doing?"

"Phone," he mutters. He pulls it free with another strained sound. "Call Tamara."

Adelaide glances back. "Who?"

"She's a doctor. She handles—" He grimaces. "—off-duty incidents."

My brow furrows. "What does that even mean?"