Chapter Four
I lie still until Avery’s breathing evens out, soft and steady against my chest. I hold her until I no longer have a convincing reason to, until sharing warmth is no longer a justification to keep my hands on her flawless skin.
She doesn’t stir. If she heard me, she doesn’t show it. It doesn’t matter either way. My confession doesn’t reverse the damage I’ve done. The harm that lurks in the quiet, that manifests in the dark corners of my mind, curls its fingers around my throat like the bind I can never escape.
Avery may be safe here with me, but that safety is a fragile illusion I’ve stolen. Ripped from the hands of men who once called me brother. They won’t take me back now. I burned those bridges to ash when I stole their girl.
She wasn’t even supposed to become one of us, and damn, I tried to prevent it. I’ve betrayed her trust more times than she can comprehend. I’ve sabotaged her happiness in the name of protecting her, when really, it was just about keeping her for myself. A woman I never planned to pursue but couldn’t watch my men seduce her either. Selfishness. Pure selfishness.
The tent walls feel smaller with every passing second. The air becomes heavier. A shiver shudders down my spine, and I instinctively know he's back. I don’t turn my head, already knowing what I’ll see. A figment of Ray, his body shifting and warping like smoke. He rarely has a face, but those pale eyes haunt me regardless. I suppose it goes hand in hand with how far my sanity is slipping on any given day. He doesn’t speak, as he never does. He only watches. Waiting. Expecting.
Since Avery burst into my room and decided sedating her was the best option, Ray has been distant. It’s as if my focus on her blocks him out. Yet, the longer I’m with her, the less comforting his presence feels. Imagining him doesn't bring me any closer to the man I didn’t get a proper chance to know. It’s become a twisted mockery of what he never had. I grip Avery tighter. She’s real. The only thing that’s ever felt real.
The shadow pulses as it closes in, causing the air to grow colder. I try to blink back the image, knowing that it’s not real, but a clawed hand reaches toward Avery’s sleeping form regardless, hovering just above the bare shoulder that’s slipped free of the cover. My breath hitches.
Not her.
I shove the words down, refuse to speak them aloud. I won’t give this broken part of my mind that much power. But the weight of its presence presses on my chest, drumming against my ribs like a war cry. Avery shifts slightly in my arms, murmuring something unintelligible in her sleep. I focus on her warmth, on the rise and fall of her breath. On the way her fingers twitch against my arms.
She belongs to me.
The shadow recoils, twisting in on itself and writhing like a dying flame. I don’t let go of Avery. Not even when my limbs start to shake. I won’t let anything or anyone take her from me.
When I brave a look over my shoulder, I find that we’re alone once more. The only shadows lurking around the tent are the ones cast through the gnarled fingers of trees outside, bathed in moonlight. I suck in a sharp breath, squeezing my eyes shut. The tent is calm again, and Avery is still safe in my arms. The air isn’t thick with rot and regret, but resignation. Deep down, I seem to know that he isn’t coming back. Ray is gone, but I don’t mourn his loss this time. I just hold Avery closer, tethering myself to her world. The one I keep falling further and further away from.
One thing is for certain. Things have changed. Just as Avery molded herself into our small family like she was always supposed to be there, she’s infiltrated my being. Forced her way in, revealing fissures I didn’t know I had. Issues I’d been too comfortable to ignore, but have now been brought to the lift where I’ll have to deal with them.
These thoughts tumble through my mind for what feels like hours, to the point where I don’t know if I’m awake or asleep. Usually, when I’m plagued this way, I would be hunched over a notepad, writing until my mind was empty. Avery doesn’t even know the worst of it. She’s only seen a tiny fraction of the words I write. The polished, finessed versions. And now that she knows I’m the man she calls Mr. XO, she won’t accept any more of my letters. She won’t listen to my words. I’m stuck with them.
I’ve never appreciated it. The form of therapy, the mental release. Like siphoning the poison from my brain. In the wilderness, holding the woman of my darkest desires and knowing she’s never been further away, I withhold a bitter, self-directed laugh. She was never supposed to see me like this. Raw and unmasked. She was supposed to see him— the version of me I could never truly become. The man she imagined I was.
But there’s no hiding anymore. No pen and paper to shield me. Just this crushing, unbearable truth. I love her more than I hate myself, and that terrifies me. Because there are no lengths that I won’t go to to ensure she lives another day. I need her alive to keep punishing me, to keep reminding me of the shit I’ve done.
Apologies won’t take back Meg’s identity. Letters can’t prevent the damage I’ve caused. Words can’t convince Avery that it was the only way to protect her. None of these words matter anymore.
Words are empty without action, and my actions are unforgivable.