50. Chloe
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHLOE
THEN
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
The halls of the compound have always been a little intimidating, but the last twelve months they’ve been worse.
Because instead of running into scary-looking men with guns, I’m now afraid of seeing my best friend. Or I guess ex-best friend.
Not that I have any explanation for why Damon can’t stand to be in the same room as me anymore.
It’s his birthday next week.
A day I used to celebrate as much as my own.
Every year for as long as I can remember, the three of us would spend our birthdays in the media room watching movies and eating too much junk, and then when it came time for family dinner, we’d push our food around the plate with churning stomachs from all the sugar.
It was a tradition.
But when my birthday came around, it was just Ronan and me.
He tried to make it special, tried to tell me Damon would be here next year, but I knew the truth.
Damon would never join us for another birthday movie marathon.
I reposition my book in my arms as I make my way to the library. It’s one of the only rooms that no one ever uses, and therefore it’s become my sanctuary.
A safe place free of the cruelty of my ex-best friend.
Turning the corner, I spot the door at the other end of the hall and breathe a sigh of relief.
Almost there.
I pick up my pace, intent on reaching the room as quickly as I can. But then I hear his voice.
It’s grown deeper in the last year, only making it easier for him to frighten me.
Ronan says he’s not doing it on purpose, that he’s stressed now that his father has given him responsibility, but that’s not it.
Dragging a deep breath into my lungs, I keep my eyes focused on the door at the end of the hall, my heart pounding in my chest like it’s desperate to escape.
Maybe it is.
Maybe the organ that keeps me alive would rather leap from my chest than face another cruel attack by someone who once held half of it.
He still does if I’m honest.
You don’t stop loving someone just because they say mean things to you.
I stop in my tracks when Damon turns the corner, his eyes locking on me immediately.
Intent on not starting an argument, I drop my gaze and skirt around him without bothering to acknowledge his existence.
It’s safer that way.
I’m almost past him, almost to freedom when his hands grasp my shoulders, shoving me against the wall so hard it takes my breath away.
“What are you doing in this wing of the house, Duchess?” He spits the nickname that once held so much meaning.
“I’m just heading into the library,” I reply. “I was planning to read for a little while before picking up a new book to read to your mom.”
It’s become our routine. Each day at four o’clock, I read to her for an hour. One of the things she misses most after losing her sight is reading, and I do what I can to ease that burden.
“I don’t know why you bother. She hates you just as much as the rest of us,” he spits.
Pressing my eyes closed to warn away the stupid tears that gather at the corners, I steel myself. What he’s saying isn’t true, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
Just the way he intended.
“If she wants me to stop coming, she’ll tell me,” I reply calmly.
“None of us can wait for you to graduate so we’ll finally be free of you. Dad wants Neil to send you to boarding school so Ronan will finally grow up and stop playing house with you, but your mom won’t let him.”
He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. I overheard their argument a few weeks ago, but Damon doesn’t know that. He thinks he’s blindsiding me.
“Okay.” I shrug. “Can I go now?”
His hold on my arms tightens almost to the point of pain, but he stops himself before it gets there. This isn’t the first time he’s trapped me like this, and each time he stops himself before he actually hurts me.
Steeling my shoulders, I find the courage to look up into the ice-blue eyes that used to give me so much comfort. “Why do you hate me, Damon? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Because you’re weak,” he spits. “And you make my brother weak. You’re going to get him killed. You realize that, don’t you? When he blows off training to spend time with you. When he refuses to meet his responsibilities in favor of his little crush, he gets behind, and it will be what kills him.”
“That’s not why,” I challenge. “Is it because I saw you kill Matt? Is it because I was watching the night you became a monster?”
Pain flares in his eyes at the reminder, but it’s gone so quickly I almost wonder if I imagined it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? Because that was the day you withdrew. That was the day you started getting enjoyment out of my suffering. Does it make you feel better to hurt me? Does it make you feel good when I cry?”
When he first stopped talking to me, I begged him for an explanation.
Begged to understand how we went from best friends to enemies overnight.
I tried to tell him that I understood why he killed Matt, even if I didn’t agree with it.
But he didn’t want to hear it. His mind was made up, and that’s all that mattered.
“Why would I want to continue being friends with someone that makes me just as weak as my brother?” he growls. “I only have room for one whiny woman in my life, and that will be my future wife.”
The reminder of his arranged marriage stings, but I’m too angry. I want to slap him, to knock some sense into him.
But instead I shove his chest until he’s forced to take a step back, and I waste no time fleeing.
He may have been my best friend once upon a time, but now he’s my worst nightmare.