Embrace the Darkness (The Maura Quinn Series Book 1) - Ashley N. Rostek Page 0,89
could see the wheels turning, or should I say, grinding angrily. I'd successfully pissed him off. You’d think I’d slapped him with how hard his features became. Good. He should know how it feels. He'd toyed with me tonight, completely disregarding my feelings and our deal. He'd taken what I’d say was my worst fear and played it out in front of me, torturing me. And for what? To see if I’d break? Screw him!
“Everything I’ve done, or you think I’ve taken from you, I did for your own good. You don’t know what it’s like to be a parent. You don’t know what sacrifices or hardships I’ve had to endure to make sure you were safe. So don’t you sit there and give me that oh-woe-is-me bullshit, Maura,” he snapped, pulling his hands from his pockets to rest at his sides. They opened before they squeezed shut into white knuckled fists, then he relaxed them again. “The innocence you’re so envious of is a prison and you should be grateful I freed you from it. To be innocent is to live in a constant state of ignorance and a false sense of happiness. I’d be damned if I left you that weak and vulnerable. We live in a cruel and harsh world. If you haven’t figured that out by now, then I have failed,” he said, pointing at me, chest heaving. He was struggling to keep his voice calm.
I stopped swinging to listen to him, to watch him because I’d never seen him so emotional. I'd wanted to piss him off a moment ago, in a childish attempt to seek revenge for what he'd put me through, but now I kind of felt bad. Only a teeny tiny bit, though.
“You were just six weeks old when I lost your mother. I was alone with a new baby and had more enemies than I could count barking at our doorstep. If you were going to survive, you needed to be smart and strong.” The conviction and pain in his voice made my chest hurt. Even to this day, it still pained him to talk about her. I didn’t want to imagine how hard it must have been for him at that time in his life, but he painted a vivid picture.
To calm himself, Stefan took a deep breath. A large cloud of fog formed around him when he released it.
“You are,” he whispered, pulling my attention back to him. “You are so smart. The way you read people and situations…you see things that other people don’t and you’re quick about it. Tonight, you knew right away something wasn’t right. I was watching you, Maura. You looked Sasha and his men over and came to a decision in less than five seconds. I watched as you swiveled that steak knife inward to hide it, knowing, preparing.” He smiled as he stood there remembering. “Your strength is even more remarkable. You stared down the barrel of Sasha’s gun with the cruelest smile I’ve ever seen, and I’ve never been so proud of you.”
“I don’t understand why I was given a test to begin with. What was worth going back on your word?” I asked, allowing my hurt to be heard.
“It’s tradition. A test of loyalty. A lot of people break when pressed with fear. I needed to know you wouldn’t. Since you’re not afraid of dying yourself, I had to find something that would make you equally afraid, if not more. You gave me the idea last night when you were talking with Ian. He betrayed us because of his love for his daughter. You were right, by the way. His daughter is sick. He and his wife couldn’t afford her treatment. I decided to let his wife keep the money.” He gave me a pointed look, reminding me of the promise I'd made when it hadn't been my place. I'd considered writing Stefan a check to replace the money, but now I felt like he deserved to eat the loss.
“Back to the point.” He cleared his throat. “I used your love for Jameson and myself against you and it worked. You were frightened when you wholeheartedly thought we were going to die. It took strength to work through that fear instead of rolling over and giving them what they wanted to try and save us.”
“Some fucking tradition,” I grumbled, still not seeing the point.
“I test everyone when I’ve decided they’re ready to join the fold,” he said. The fold? “I even