I should’ve been there.
But I will be now.
And God help whoever made her cry… Because we won’t be knocking. We’ll be taking blood.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Athens
The girls ditched the Asylum and hauled me to Devil’s Lane instead, a half-finished nightmare of bare brick and echoing corridors the boys use when the job’s too bloody to drag home. Perfect. I can bleed here in peace.
I’ve been flat on this mattress for hours, window cracked, letting the night song of crickets drown out the riot in my skull.Most people hear an annoying chirp; I hear camouflage, white noise smothering the wordsdeath, fire, chaosthat keep looping behind my eyes.
All because of one lie.
Except nothing in my world is everonelie. It’s a lattice of them, roots so thick they strangle whatever’s left of the truth.
Josie and Kaia thought they were saving me when they tucked my childhood into a locked box. Maybe they were. Maybe they just delayed the explosion. Either way, the lid’s off now and the fallout tastes like iron.
I roll onto Pooh bear, of course Wyck left the stupid body pillow here. He remembers everything I pretend I’ve forgotten, the way I used to hoard Winnie the Pooh merch, the way his gooey butter cake could bribe a smile out of me even on the worst nights. Enemy, friend, lover, how the hell did I erase him?
Remember.
That phantom voice again, sliding through the room like smoke from a cheap incense stick.
“I already remember,” I hiss.
No, you don’t.
The covers feel like a shroud. I squeeze my eyes shut, just for a second, and the memory hits like a crowbar.
Bash’s fist. White, hot pain. My head snapping sideways.
“You stupid bitch,” he snarls. I taste blood, metal on my tongue. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear you let mysonalmost crawl between those thighs?”
“Bash, please!”
Smack. Other cheek. Stars splash across my vision.
“I built a future, and you’re not screwing it up.” Fist in my hair, yanking back until my throat’s a stretch of exposed wire. His eyes are wild, too much whiskey, too much power. “Say goodbye to your precious Wyck. He’s gone.”
Tears blur everything. I remember that part, the day Wyck disappeared and the sun went with him.
He leans in, voice low enough to crawl under my ribs. “Every time you start to remember, I’ll beat it back into the dark.”
Then the crunch, nose breaking under bone and rage. Hot wet copper fills my mouth. My hands fly upnow, present colliding with past, trying to protect a face that already healed.
I jerk upright in bed, clawing at my throat. Somethingcoldthere, phantom of the chain he used to threaten me with. I gag, choking on air until it passes.
Sweat chills on my skin. The crickets are still singing. The room is still dark. But I know the box isn’t empty anymore, the worst parts are crawling out, one bloody memory at a time.
And when Wyck and the Devils kick the door in tonight, they’re going to find me wide-awake in the dark, breathing fire, ready to torch the past, or let it torch me.
Either way, the volcano’s finally erupting. And everyone in the blast radius better choose a side.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Wyck
