Chapter 7
LUELLA
T he note is still tucked safely in my pocket as I pace around my apartment, my day off stretching out before me like an endless, empty road. I pull it out, unfolding it carefully, reading the word that has been haunting me since last night.
Mine.
No signature, but I know who it’s from. Colton. Always Colton. He’s been watching me, leaving me these fucking notes, these roses. Black roses, like the darkness he wants to pull me into. I crumple the note, tossing it onto the coffee table. I should be furious, terrified even, but all I feel is a sick, twisted thrill.
I’ve tried to live a normal life here in Meadowgrove. I’ve got the job at the café, the cozy apartment, the friendly neighbors. But normal isn’t working for me. Not when I know Colton is out there, watching, waiting. Not when I crave the darkness he promises.
I spend the morning cleaning, trying to keep my hands busy, my mind distracted. But it’s not enough. I’m restless, my skin too tight, my body humming with an energy I can’t shake. I need something more. I need him.
God, I hate myself for feeling like this.
I should go to the cops and report his stalker ass, but instead I’m fucking craving him. After everything he put me through...
And after everything he went through...
I still at that thought. Colton was just as much as a victim of Xavier Blackwood as I was, and what did I do? Left him to clean up the mess, to deal with the aftermath. My heart aches at the memory of his howls as I ran away, of the pain he must’ve felt.
I clutch my chest, the reality of the situation finally hitting me. Colton may have done some bad things, and yes, he hurt me, but in his mind, he was trying to protect me. He wanted to own me...
My God, this is crazy. I need help. Real mental help.
I find myself standing in front of the window, looking out at the street below. He’s out there, I can feel him. Always watching. Always waiting. My heart pounds, and I press my fingers to the glass, wishing it was his skin I was touching.
Fuck, I’m messed up.
I step back, shaking my head. I can’t keep doing this.
I grab my laptop, open it up, and type ‘therapist’ into the search bar. A list of names pops up, smiling faces promising to help me work through my trauma, my issues. But how can they help me? How can they understand what I’ve been through, what I’ve done? What I want to do?
I close the laptop, pushing it away. No, therapy isn’t going to cut it.
Suddenly, a wave of sympathy washes over me. Colton’s pain is palpable, even from a distance. I can’t forget the tormented look in his eyes, the constant battles he fought within himself. He’s a product of his upbringing, a prisoner of his past, just like I am.
I hug myself, the fabric of my blouse soft against my skin. How can I fault him for his darkness when I have my own? We’re both broken, both struggling to navigate a world that’s been cruel to us. The only difference is that Colton wears his pain like armor, his darkness a heavy force that follows him, while I hide mine behind a mask.
But who am I to judge? I killed my own father, took pleasure in his last, choking breaths. I planned and executed revenge on those who wronged me and my sister. I killed Colton’s father. I’m a murderess, a liar, a manipulator. I’m no better than Colton; in many ways, I’m worse because I have zero regrets.
I’d do it all again.
Yet, here I am, judging him, fearing him. I shake my head, the realization stirring something deep within me. It’s not fear that I feel when I think of Colton; it’s understanding. It’s recognition of a kindred spirit; someone who’s walked through the same darkness I have.
I look out at the street, the shadows now empty, the moon casting a soft glow over everything. Somewhere out there, Colton is watching, hurting, fighting his own demons. And I can’t help but feel a pang of regret. Regret for not reaching out, for not offering some kind of comfort.
He’s not a monster; he’s a man, broken and scarred, trying to find his way in a world that’s rejected him. Just like me. Just like Sophia. My heart aches at the thought of my sister, of the pain she endured, the darkness she couldn’t escape. How many times had I wished for someone to understand, to help her, to save her? And now, here’s Colton, struggling in the same darkness, and I’m pushing him away.
I take a deep breath, my decision made. I can’t keep running, can’t keep hiding from what I feel. I need to face this, face him. I need to understand, to help, to maybe even...save.
I swallow the fear creeping up my throat and remember who Colton is—who he really is. The man who tried to protect me before he lost control, the one who came to save me even when I saved myself. He stood by and let me take his father’s life so I could avenge my sister. Tears sting my eyes, and the only person who can make them go away is him. I know I’m playing with fire here, and yes, I’ll probably end up charred to ashes, but living this life without him isn’t what I want.
Maybe he will be the end of me.
Maybe I’m signing my own death warrant with a flourish—but I have to know. I have to know what we could be. I need him, I crave him, almost as badly as he craves me, I’m sure of it.
There’s one way I can make our reunion the best version of what it could be.
I need to bring Colton to me.