All the Truths (Lies & Truths 2)

“Reina.”

The heart I thought was long dead pulses back to life at that voice, the deep voice with slight huskiness, the voice that brought me happiness right before he shattered it and left me in the clutches of this gloomy cloud.

The doorknob rattles then snaps back into place due to the lock. “Open up.”

Why? So he can call me a monster and dig the knife deeper? So I’ll look at his face and realize he was never mine and I’ve been a fool all along?

No, thanks.

Besides, he’s after my life. He won’t stop until he drains the last breath out of me. A full-body shudder snakes under my skin at the thought.

“Open the fucking door or I will smash it to the ground.” His voice loses all patience, pulsing with pent-up rage.

I have no doubt he’ll break the thing if he chooses to.

Do I care? No.

He can do whatever he wants, but if he expects me to be the one who opens that door for him, he’ll be disappointed. It won’t be happening.

Villains shouldn’t be allowed inside under any circumstances. I made that mistake once, and look where it lead me.

“Reina.” He growls my name in that deep masculine way that still makes my toes curl.

When will he stop getting to me? Next week? Next month? How about next year?

“Hide while you can,” he says before his presence disappears from in front of the door.

I don’t know how I feel he’s no longer there, but I just do.

He’s gone. For now.

I throw the covers off. Somehow, his visit has raised my body temperature and sweat has broken out on my brows and temples.

He has that effect, Asher. He gets under your skin, and before you know it, he’s trapping you, tying you up on a roof, suffocating you, and planning to kill you.

God, this is so fucked up.

The room is dark and smells of my breaths and the residual scent of Asher on the sheets: sandalwood and citrus, warmth and coldness.

I didn’t change the sheets we fucked on. I probably should’ve, but I couldn’t be bothered.

With the thick curtains drawn over the window, I don’t even know if it’s night or day.

I retrieve my phone to check the time. I put it on airplane mode and haven’t paid it attention since.

It’s five in the evening.

As soon as I turn off airplane mode, my phone buzzes with endless messages, emails, and missed calls from the squad. Lucy and Naomi sent me shouty texts about where I’ve been.

I think about making up some sort of a lie. After all, that’s exactly how my life has been in the past: a liar, a homewrecker, and everything in between.

Besides, I don’t want to explain the state I’m in. I don’t even recognize it myself.

I contemplate telling them I have the flu when an Instagram DM catches my attention.

Cloud003. He sent it two days ago, meaning the night after Jason took me to the pool house.

It’s like he was checking up on me. My chest warms at the thought.