I looked up, meeting his gaze despite my shoulders wanting to slump and the urge to fold in on myself.
I’d made a mistake. I wasn’t a bad person.
I wasn’t.
I turned to leave, but then I heard Damon’s voice behind me.
“We set Rika’s house on fire, Kai,” he said.
I turned and looked at him as he stared at his friend.
“Stole all her money,” he continued. “I kidnapped her, and you forced Banks to marry you. I tried to kill Will…”
“We made mistakes,” Kai argued with him. “We would never do that again.”
“Speak for yourself,” Damon fired back. “The role of the villain is only determined by who’s telling the story.”
An electric current ran under my skin, and I almost smiled, grateful.
They got redemption, because they felt they had their reasons.
Damon and Kai looked at each other, and even though Kai was the one I could see myself connecting to in high school, because he was stubborn with a clear idea of right and wrong, Damon had been my savior on more than one occasion when life had proved there was so much gray.
They were like yin and yang, and I understood. I got it now.
“You’ll make it up to us,” Michael finally spoke up, meeting my eyes. “You’ll stay at St. Killian’s with Rika and me.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he said.
He wanted to make sure I didn’t skip town. What was he going to do? Lock me up?
And then I paused, remembering that he could. They lived at St. Killian’s. He had a whole dungeon at his disposal. No one would hear me scream.
“I have a place to stay,” I told him. “In Thunder Bay.”
His eyes thinned on me, probably not trusting me, but probably not wanting to deal with the hassle, either.
“You don’t leave town,” he ordered. “You will pay your debt.”
I straightened. “I won’t leave town.”
He nodded once as Damon took a drink from his glass and Kai glared at me.
I shifted on my feet. “May I borrow someone’s phone, please?”
But Michael just raised his glass to his mouth again, mumbling, “Borrow one from the girls. We’re using ours.”
I shifted on my feet, finally turning around and rolling my eyes as I left the car. I ventured back the way I came, trailing from one box to the next, past the kitchen, the dining car, the cabins, a room with William Grayson engraved on the door, and the lounge car.
They weren’t using their phones, but at least he wasn’t telling me I couldn’t use one. For all he knew, I could be calling my brother and trying to get help.
But I wouldn’t.
I might be safer if I jumped on a plane to California as soon as we arrived in Thunder Bay, but now that it was all on the table, I knew.
I was the one who hurt them. I needed to see this through.