Corrupt (Devil's Night 1)

I stood up and walked over to the bed, leaning down and studying her pretty face.

Fuck you, Rika.

Fuck you. I can’t choose you. Why did you do this to me?

I turned my head, reaching over to the nightstand and taking my phone. I had several missed calls, but I didn’t bother listening to the voicemails or checking texts.

I just typed one to Kai instead.

Finish it.

And I straightened, glaring down at her as I set the phone back down.

Now it was done. And there was no going back.

Three Years Ago

I TURNED INTO THE GRAVEL PARKING LOT, the night lit up with the headlights of all the other partiers arriving. The warehouse had been abandoned long ago, but since it hadn’t been slotted for use or torn down yet, we confiscated it every chance we got to let loose and raise a little hell.

People brought kegs and liquor, and the town’s wannabe youth DJs set up their systems, filling the night with rage and noise so loud we couldn’t think even if we wanted to.

This was what I’d been waiting for.

Sure, I wanted to see how she’d hang with my friends. Could she keep up? Could she even manage to make a dent in our world?

But what I really wanted was to get her away from my family, her mother, Trevor, and to just see her relax. I wanted to see who she was when she stopped caring what everyone else thought or expected of her.

When she finally realized that my opinion was the only one that mattered.

And even though she was always the one to watch me as we grew up, that didn’t mean I wasn’t always aware of her, either.

I still remembered the day she was born. Sixteen years, eleven months, and eighteen days ago. That crisp November morning when my mother let me hold her and then my father immediately took her out of my arms and laid her next to Trevor, who was just a baby then, too.

Even at three I understood. She was Trevor’s.

And I just sat there, wanting her back, wanting to see the baby and wanting to be included in the fun, but I didn’t dare approach my father. He would’ve pushed me away.

So I didn’t care. I made sure never to care.

So many times growing up I tore my eyes away from her. I made sure not to think about it when she and Trevor hung out or had classes together because they were the same age, and I made sure not to notice her in a room or feel her next to me. I made sure not to talk to her too much or be too nice and let her in.

She was too young.

We didn’t travel in the same circles.

My father would force me away from her. He took away everything that made me happy. Why bother?

And when those excuses ate me up inside and turned anger into resentment and resentment into hatred, the day finally came when I really didn’t care anymore.

It didn’t seem to faze her, though. The more I pulled away and treated her with impatience and distance, the more she pulled closer.

So instead, I stayed away. I went off to college, and I rarely came home. I hadn’t seen her in months before I walked into that classroom today and saw her sitting there, looking so grown up and beautiful, like a fucking angel. I couldn’t help it. I walked up to her, wanting to pull her up and take her with us, but when she raised her eyes, meeting mine, I knew I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t stop if I did. I wouldn’t be able to give her back.

Why her? Why, despite my mother, who always loved me, and my friends, who always had my back, was it Erika Fane who put the air in my lungs or made my blood run hot. She always got to me.

And then when she showed up at the cathedral today, I was done denying the need to be close and done pushing her away. To hell with it. I may or may not let her in when all was said and done, but let’s see where the night took us.