Tortured Souls (Rebels of Sandland 2)

“No. Don’t. He won’t want her seeing him like that.”

He won’t want anyone seeing him like that.

“But she’ll want to be there. I’d want to be there if it was you. She loves him.”

I didn’t doubt that. But he needed to focus on himself. He didn’t need to take on her grief too. Effy wasn’t strong like my Harper.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” she snapped back.

“He can’t love her until he can learn to love himself. He wants to, but now isn’t the right time.”

“I don’t agree. I think now is the perfect time. He needs her.”

“He needs her to be safe too. Please, Harper. Don’t push me on this one.”

She bit her tongue and dropped it. And I tried to focus on how I was going to be there for her and my best friend, because he was going to need me. He was tough, but what he was facing was enough to destroy anyone. His nightmare had returned from the dead and this was a battle he couldn’t face alone.

Hurt one and you hurt us all.

Only these scars ran deeper than the flesh wounds I had. They were burned deep into his soul. Tattooed into his heart and branded across his brain.

There was a rea

son my best friend didn’t speak very often; why he chose his words so carefully. The things he’d seen had rendered him speechless. The life he’d endured had drained him of hope. He’d learned to stay in the shadows, to be quiet for his own good.

But I wouldn’t stay quiet.

I’d be his voice if he needed me.

The war that was started when he was left behind that bar to bleed out on the cold, dirty pavement was a war I would finish.

I might not have been able to help him like I wanted to back when we were kids, but I was more than able to now.

I was ready to burn this town to the ground, smoke the evil fucker out of his hiding place, and show everyone what a low-life scumbag he really was for hurting Finn.

It was time for Finn’s voice to be heard.

Time for his retribution.

The broken boy.

That’s what they called me in school.

I didn’t speak.

I couldn’t.

What was I supposed to say?

Words wouldn’t help me.

Nothing could.

I lived a life of chaos, but on the surface, I was a picture of calmness. Serenity. Silence.

Kind of like a swan. Everyone sees the perfection, the grace. No one thinks about the effort it takes to keep that up. The work that goes on below the surface to maintain the illusion.