Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Reeve Hardy
Shelter — Fit For A King
“Please, answer me,” I beg again, pacing back and forth.
Tell me you’re okay.
Right now, I don’t want to cross a line or enter her tower. I know she’s shocked, hurt physically and emotionally, and our trust is nonexistent. The last thing she needs is Jason.
She needs me.
The radio presses against my mask as I wait to hear the soft sound of her voice. The rain intensifies. My hair and clothes are soaked.
The images of what happened keep replaying in my head—blood covered her from top to bottom as she walked away without a word. His crazy voice still echoes in my ears. I can feel the prickles of fury crawling up my skin, protesting, begging me to break his fucking bones for touching her.
Rage flares in my chest.
Even though he’s lying there. Lifeless. Drowning in a pool of blood. He deserved much worse, and I restrained myself for her. I didn’t want her to see that side of me. Now, I’ve seen that side of her. The last thing I wanted was for her to carry that burden.
She might harm herself, but she has never harmed others.
She’s still the same spiky girl I met, fighting her demons and wanting to help make the world a better place. That’s why she became a 911 dispatcher during college. She’s not a killer. She’s where darkness stems and flowers bloom. She’s where chaos meets its refuge and simply exists.
I carved out a special place for her in my heart a long time ago because she was my shelter.
She holds the power. I am a shadow in her presence, a reflection of all the darkest corners of her mind.
“Jason…” Her hesitant yet panicked voice finally comes through the radio.
I clutch it tightly, but master the softest voice I can find in me. “I’m here. Are you safe?”
“Y-Yes.” Her voice trails off while water runs in the background.
“Are you taking a shower?” I ask.
“Yes... no. I don’t know, I just ended up here. I’m not in the shower.”
“Okay.”
“I-I killed him. He said he had seen me at the party and knew my grandma.” Confusion laces her words as she attempts to piece them together.
I don’t interrupt her. I listen. “I think he knew my husband. Me. But I had to fight. I had to kill him. When I held my husband’s knife, I felt so empowered that I completely detached from what was happening.
I was angry. So angry. I kept stabbing him repeatedly. I… I… had to choose myself.”
I know the feeling.
That blade carries the blood of our unspoken pain.
Who did she truly kill out here? Someone who threatened her, or was it the anguish she’s buried deep inside and refuses to set free?
“You did the right thing,” I bite my bottom lip, almost drawing blood. “He deserved to die.”
“I can’t believe I just k-killed a m-man,” she shudders. Her sobs tear my fucking soul apart. “I want to throw up. Gag. Fucking scream. I’ve never killed before. I’ve never—”
I yank the gun from my holster and shoot him in the head three times.
“Winona, did you hear? I killed him. You don’t have to bear that alone.”
“J-Jason…”
“Take a deep breath for me.” I squeeze my eyes shut and tilt my head up to the stormy sky. I hate this. I can’t even comfort her the way I should. I can’t hold her or brush her hair like I used to.
She sniffles. “My grandmother was right. It’s only been a day, and I’m already feeling disoriented. If I don’t turn to a machine, this place will kill me.”
“It comes with time and experience, but it can cost you a lot of heartache.”
“How long have you been doing this?” she slowly calms.
“For a very long time.” I sigh. “Do you want me to come to you?” I would come inside in a heartbeat if she says she does.
“I… I don’t k…” she pauses. “No.”
The pang in my chest echoes through me. My eyes sting with tears, but I sniffle and brush them away.
“We need to get rid of the body,” Winona whispers from the other end of the line, as if someone might overhear us.
“I can take care of it myself if you don’t want to come out.”
“No. That’s part of it. I have to do this.” She clears her voice. “I’ll be fine. I just needed a moment.”
I nod even though she can’t see me.
A sense of pride washes over me.
I know it’ll haunt her, but she did break out of her shell.
“This is what you’re going to do,” I instruct, “bring a sheet and a rope from the basement. Can you do that?” I ask, not pushing her to do something she’s not ready for.
“I can do that.”
That’s my girl.
“I’ll be here every step of the way.” I turn when something buzzes behind me. But there’s nothing there. “Don’t worry. You’re never alone.” You have me and my demons.
“Can you keep a secret?” she asks, her voice turning playful.
“Better than anyone,” I respond. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’ll come for you if you don’t.”
A low chuckle escapes me.
“You will haunt me until the end of time,” I murmur before speaking into the radio. “Our secret is safe with me.”
The door of her tower cracks open, revealing a petite figure. I examine every inch of her body to assess the damage, zooming in on the gun in her holster. I noticed she forgot it the first time; she probably woke up from a nightmare—they tend to confuse her sometimes.
She tosses a sheet and a rope at my feet, then walks toward the edge of the cliff.
“Winona,” I utter, her name melts against my lips.