“Wait… Ellis… What’s coming for me? Who left the note?” I leap for him, reaching out as he starts to fade away. “Ellis, please don’t go. Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
“I have to,” he tells me with remorse, flickering in and out of focus. “Please, don’t turn out like me, Emery. Let the truth set you free.”
“Truth?” I gape at him incredulously. “You want me to tell Father the truth?”
“No, only someone you can trust. Truth can only be uttered through trust. Truth and trust are linked.”
“I don’t know who you mean. Who can I trust?”
Goodbye, he mouths, and then he’s gone.
I’m left staring at the empty bed, wondering if he was ever really there to begin with. He said he was at peace now, maybe even free. But what does that even mean? Where is he? Who is coming after me? Better yet, who can I trust?
You remember that night? The one when you snuck out. What you saw. What you didn’t want to see. Think of your father. Think, Emery, think. Think about what happened to Ellis. My thoughts attempt to whisper secrets to me, but I’m not sure about anything anymore, other than this is a mad, mad, mad world I’m living in, and I might be the main thing feeding the madness.
I spend the next ten minutes staring into nothingness until I hear a knock on the front door that triggers a nerve. Ellis warned me someone would be coming. Have they made it here already?
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, a spark of static kissing each one as I reach for the metal box hidden beneath my bed. I lift the lid and grab the gun. For if anyone finds out what you really are, Emery, my father said when he gave the box to me. I’m not sure what he meant, but... A memory creeps into my mind, one I’d forgotten on purpose.
I want to be at peace.
You’ll never be at peace.
“It’s better not to exist than to exist in darkness,” my father said as he gave Ellis a gun. “Make the choice. Make me proud, son. Don’t let your family suffer anymore for your sins.”
Ellis chose to drop the weapon to the floor. “I can’t do it.”
My father, angry and embarrassed, sent Ellis away that night. It was the last time I ever saw him.
I blink from the memory that has been buried in the darkness of my mind, finally spilling out right along with the madness.
The metal of the gun is cold against my clammy hands.
So cold.
So cold like me.
I’m so cold all the time inside.
Carrying the weapon makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Make a choice.
Make a choice.
Make a choice.
I raise the gun as I tiptoe down the hallway. I hear the click of the door lock and freeze. The door creaks open, and then I hear footsteps.
I should run.
But where will I go?
Make a choice.
Make a choice.
Make a choice.
I click off the safety of the gun and suck in a breath as I point the barrel at the end of the hallway. The person rounds the corner and appears in my line of vision.
Make a choice.
Make a choice.
Make a choice.
My brother chose to put the gun down and paid the consequences. My finger rests on the trigger.
Make.
A.
Choice.
When Ryler sees me, his eyes widen and his hands elevate in surrender. I remain still for a few moments longer, before lowering the gun.
You failed.
A knot winds in my stomach.
When Ryler decides I’m not a threat, his hands fall to his sides. “Why do you have that? “ His hands move in front of him as he signs to me.
“Because I heard someone coming in, and I was scared.”
“Scared of what?” he signs with curiosity written in his expression.
I shrug. “Go down the list. My father has a ton of enemies. You should know that.”
“I do know that.” He glances between my face and the gun. Then he cautiously inches forward and reaches for the weapon, carefully watching me as he removes it from my hand.
A breath eases from Ryler’s lips once he has the gun. He checks the clip to see how many bullets are in there then shakes his head as he tucks it into the back of his jeans.
“Before you go using a gun, you might want to check to make sure it’s loaded,” he signs, freeing a trapped breath, seeming relieved.
I press my lips together, feeling idiotic. “I don’t know how to load it.”
“That’s a good thing,” he assures me. “You shouldn’t be carrying it around. Fuck, you shouldn’t even have it in your apartment to begin with. Where did you even get it?”
“My father gave it to me,” I say flatly. “Where else would I get it?”
He hesitates then raises his hands in front of him to sign, “Well, I’m going to hang onto it.”
“But I need it for…” What am I supposed to say? I have hallucinations of my brother and he warned me someone is coming for me. That there was a bloody note on the doorstep, left by someone who knows my dirty, little secret and wants to kill me.
I stupidly told Ryler during the night of the concert that I’m crazy. I never fully explained why, and I’m sure he probably chalked it up to me being drunk. If I told him about my brother, though, he might run for his damn life.
But isn’t that what I want,
For him to go,
because I don’t trust him?
Right?
Right?
Right?
I honestly don’t know.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ryler wonders with his brows knit. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” I force a yawn and stretch my arms above my head. “I’m just tired. I should really get to bed.”
“You want me to make you some coffee?” he offers. “Or we could go get some. I know it’s late, but there’s a shop a couple of blocks away that stays open late.”
“No, I don’t want you to break the rules again and take me out. The last thing I need is another visit from my mother.” I wait for him to take the hint and leave, even though only part of me wants him to go.
He studies me with his head slanted to the side. “I can’t go,” he signs. When I frown, he adds, “Sorry, but your father told me to stay with you tonight.”
My gaze wanders over my shoulder to my bedroom, specifically the bed. My skin tingles at the idea of being in that bed with him again. It felt so wonderful to sleep in his arms, to be held like that, and oddly, at the time, I’d felt safe. If he stayed again, he could erase all the memories of what Evan did to me. But happens when morning rolls around? Would he go to my father and report everything we did?
“What’s going on? Why is he making you stay the night with me?” When I look at Ryler again, I find him staring at my chest. I tip my chin down then internally cringe at the sight of my nipples poking through my shirt. My body betrays me as it hums to life from his attention. I cross my arms over my chest, and Ryler tears his gaze away and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.
“Something’s been going on with his business. He’s pissed off some people or something, I’m guessing.” He pauses, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. “How much do you know about what your father does?”
“How much do you know about what he does?” I quip with my brows elevated in insinuation.
We exchange an intense look, and life sparkles inside me. But then I wonder how many secrets Ryler keeps from me, and the life fizzles and dies. Still, I end up caving first, his gaze too overwhelming for me to endure.
When I look away, he hooks a finger under my chin and forces my attention back to him. My heart jolts in my chest from his touch as the skin-to-skin contact lavishly warms my body.
Then he pulls his hand away, leaving me chilly again. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, Emery,” he signs. “I’m not the enemy here. I don’t want
to hurt you, only help you.”
Truth and trust go together hand in hand.
But I don’t trust anyone.
Not even Ryler.
I might have once.
But now that trust has evaporated to dust.
“You work for my father.” My tone is off-pitch, uneven, laced with fear from everything I felt today when I found the envelope and when Evan forced me down on my bed. “Therefore, you are the enemy in my eyes. You proved that when you told him about the concert.”
Uttering something negative about my father to anyone who knows him has me terrified out of my damn mind. But Ryler needs to understand that we’re not friends, even if he did write beautiful poetry about me and took me out for one of the best nights of my life. Even if his touch makes me feel… something.
Two seconds later, reality crashes down on me, though. I realize what I’ve done, how big of a mistake I just made.
“Oh, God, please don’t tell him that.” I shuffle away from Ryler. “Please, please, please, don’t tell him.” I back down the hallway like a skittish cat. Tears well up in my eyes and regret seeps into my bones. “I didn’t mean it,” I whisper. “My father’s not a bad person. He just cares about me.”
Ryler steps toward me, but I quicken my pace, putting more distance between us.
He freezes, his eyes swirling with confusion as he lifts his hands and signs, “What are you so afraid of? Please, just tell me.” He seems torn. “I can help you… If someone is trying to hurt you, I can help you.”
What am I afraid of?
God, there are so many things.