Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
MACKENZIE
“W hy the fuck do you keep going back to him? He’s married to your mother. She’s a fucking nutcase. She fucked half the Guild to get them to buy her fucked-up story about Gordon’s death.”
“You think I don’t know that!” I shout at Jenson through my tears. “God! Of course I know all that. But it’s him. I want him. You of all people should know what it’s like. Wanting someone you just can’t have.”
My friend wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. “I just hate seeing you like this, and that asshole does this to you. Baits you then releases you just as easily.”
“Why does she want him of all people? It makes no sense.”
Jenson shakes his head. “You have to let this go, Kenz.”
I snuggle closer to him, his arms bringing me comfort. I wish letting go was that easy. It's like trying to release a part of yourself, a piece of your soul that you've intertwined with someone else. But holding on to something that's not meant to be can be even more painful in the long run.
* * *
Later that night, I head back to my house. The lights are on and I hear their voices as I step closer to the kitchen door.
My mother’s voice, sharp and venomous. “You think I won’t tell her?” she hisses. What the hell is she talking about? “You think I won’t let your little slut know exactly what kind of man you are? That we were fucking before Gordon died? While you were fucking her?” She laughs.
I feel my stomach drop. My breath stalls in my chest, my fingers clenching into fists. No fucking way.
Creed’s voice is low, controlled, but there’s an unmistakable tension there. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Amelia.”
“Oh, I’m the one playing a game?” Her lips curled into a smirk before a sharp, biting laugh escaped her. It wasn’t amusement—it was a dagger disguised as a sound. “I saw the video, Creed. You and my daughter fucking in my bedroom. How long has this been going on? You’re both going to pay for humiliating me. I warned you about crossing me.”
I push open the door, my fury drowning out the sound of it hitting the wall. “You lying bitch.”
They both turn to me. Creed’s jaw tightens, his posture stiffening as if bracing for impact. Just beneath his steely gaze is something raw and fleeting. Guilt. It cuts across his expression before he masks it, but I saw it, and it lingers in the air between us like a storm waiting to break.
My mother’s lip curls.
“Oh, sweetheart, you think I’m lying?” She tsks.
“Tell me she’s lying,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “Tell me you weren’t fucking her before the night my father died. Tell me you weren’t lying to me all those months.”
Creed doesn’t answer right away. And that hesitation, that single moment of silence, shatters me more than anything.
I stumble back, shaking my head. “I’m done. I’m fucking done with both of you.”
I spin on my heel and walk out. I don’t wait for him to follow me, because I know he won’t. He knows better. I pack a bag, shoving clothes into it without thought, my hands shaking.
Then I call Heath.
He answers on the first ring. “Kenz?”
“Can I come over?” I ask, my voice raw.
“Always.”
Half an hour later, I crumble in Heath’s arms the moment he opens the door. He holds me close, strokes my hair as I sob into his chest. And for the first time, I wonder why I was so hung up on Creed. I’m done.
* * *
“Kenz. Wake up!”
I groan, turning toward Heath who is shirtless and sitting on the edge of the bed. After crying on his shoulder, after drinking a lot more than I should have, I passed out in his guestroom.
“What? I have a headache,” I complain. “Let me sleep.”
“Creed’s been arrested.”
“What?” I stare at him. “Are you fucking with me?”
“Money laundering and theft. It’s on the news.”
I stand, his phone in my hand, my pulse racing as I stare at the screen, reading the headline over and over again.
My mother’s voice cuts through my haze. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice about double-crossing me.”
I turn to face Heath, my blood running ice cold. “She did this! My mother set him up. I know it.”
“Apparently, you did,” he said.
“What? I would never-” I start.
He holds a hand up. “Of course, I know that. The FBI got a tip off from your email, texts from your phone, exposing him. I just spoke to Larken.”
My phone. And then I remember, I dropped my fucking bag in my mother’s kitchen.
“Creed has to know I would never do that. I have to see him.”
“Whoa! I don’t know if that is such a good idea.”
"It is. I'll fix this." My throat constricts, and nausea that threatens at any given moment. “I have to-”
I dash for the bathroom, and just manage to empty the contents of my stomach in the basin.
“Kenzie,” Heath calls out to me. “Are you okay in there?”
“I’ll be fine.” I rinse my mouth and splash water on my face, my reflection looking back at me in the mirror. Then sobs wrack through me. My mother did this, and Creed probably thinks I did it to get back at him.
Heath comes into the bathroom anyway. “Hey, breathe,” he says, rubbing my back.
I straighten up, wiping my eyes with a tissue. “I have to see him.”
He sighs. “I’ll drive you. He was taken straight to Blackstone Penitentiary.”
I nod, grateful to have him by my side. He helps me up. “We’re going to sort this out,” Heath tells me, but I am not so sure we will.
* * *
The drive to the prison feels like forever, and I'm sweating buckets by the time I arrive. What the hell is wrong with me? The nausea is starting again, but I drink some electrolyte drink that Heath insisted on, and it helps a little.
“You ready?” Heath asks.
Hesitating only for a moment, I nod, opening the door. I’m terrified of what lies ahead but know it has to be done.
I step out, my hands clenched into fists, and Heath and I walk straight toward the entrance.
At the check-in, the guard stops us. “One prisoner, one visitor,” he says.
“I’ll be right here waiting,” Heath tells me, placing a kiss on my cheek.
Another guard searches me, and leads me to the visitation area. My heart slams against my ribs as I sit at the metal table, waiting.
Minutes pass. Then more. Prisoners come out to meet their families, they leave, and I am still sitting here.
A door opens, and my breath catches, but it’s not Creed. It’s a guard.
He approaches, looking unimpressed. “Creed Torres has refused visitation.”
The words knock the wind out of me.
I blink. “What? Did you tell him it’s Mackenzie? Mackenzie Yates?”
“He doesn’t want to see you,” the guard repeats, his tone indifferent.
I shake my head. “There has to be a mistake. Can you tell him that it’s urgent?”
“He knows.” The guard’s gaze hardens. “And he still refused.”
A crack splinters through my chest. I swallow against the lump in my throat, nodding stiffly before standing up on shaky legs. Heath is waiting at the entrance where I left him, when I walk out, his brows are drawn.
“Well?” he asks.
I don’t answer. I just keep walking.
“He didn’t see you, did he?” Heath finally says, voice softer now.
I reach the car, climb in and slam the door behind me. I stare ahead, but my vision blurs. The silence is suffocating.
“She will fucking pay for this,” I hiss under my breath.
Heath exhales sharply but doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. We both know who I’m talking about. My mother.
I straighten, determination hardening my spine. “Take me to her.”
* * *
My mother stands in the living room, a glass of pink bubbly in her hand, looking like she’s already celebrating. The sight of her smug expression ignites something volatile in me.
“Well, that was quick,” she says, swirling her champagne. “How’s Creed? Devastated? Desperate? Oh wait, did he throw you out?”
I stride toward her, ignoring the tremble in my hands.
“You did this,” I spit, my voice shaking with rage. “You set him up. You used my fucking phone and you set him up. Why?”
She takes a sip, utterly unbothered. “Kenzie, darling, he’s where he belongs. And you? Well, maybe next time you’ll consider the type of company you keep.”
My vision turns red. “You’re a monster.”
She tilts her head, as if considering the word. Then she leans in, her voice dropping into something cruel. “You think you’re heartbroken now? Imagine how you’ll feel when Creed doesn’t see another sunrise.”
Ice floods my veins. “What the fuck does that mean?”
She sighs, her fingers tapping against the glass. “I control what happens to him now, darling. His fate is in my hands. And if you so much as try to help him, if you interfere, I’ll make sure he doesn’t last the night.”
My breath shudders out of me. “You wouldn’t.”
She smiles. “Wouldn’t I?” Her lips curl. “You’re a fool. You have also been a stupid girl. You never understood what it meant to be a part of St. Jude’s.”
Something inside me snaps. I shove her hard, and she stumbles backward, falling onto the floor. Her glass slips from her grasp and shatters on the marble floor. The pink liquid splatters everywhere.
She gasps, eyes wide with shock. Then fury takes over. “You ungrateful little bitch! I will—”
I pull the gun from my jacket and level it at her chest. The safety clicks off.
She freezes.
“I will snap your fucking neck for this,” she hisses.
“No. What you will do, is leave St. Jude’s,” I say, my voice deadly calm. “And you will never come back here again.”
She laughs breathlessly. “And if I don’t?”
“Then I make sure you never have the chance to destroy another life.”
Her smile fades. “You wouldn’t dare. You don’t have the balls.”
I cock the gun. “Try me.”
The door bursts open, and Heath and Larken step inside. They don’t say a word as they approach, stopping behind me.
Amelia’s expression shifts. Fear. Realization. Defeat.
“You think you’ve won?” she sneers, but I see the panic in her eyes.
Larken speaks first. “We doctored a copy of that video, of the night Gordon died, placing you as an accomplice right along with Creed. The Guild won’t take kindly to your lies. Since you shared the video with the FBI already, I made it seem like a part of it was cut off. Nobody will be able to tell the difference.” His voice is casual, but the warning is clear.
“If you ever show your face here, I’l make sure the Guild sees it,” I say.
Amelia’s jaw tightens. She looks between us, then back at me. Finally, she exhales sharply, rising to her feet with whatever dignity she has left.
“Fine,” she says. “I’ll go. But you will regret this, Mackenzie. I’m satisfied knowing Creed will never trust the little bitch that ratted him out.”
I lower the gun but don’t move until she stands and brushes past me. She pauses at the doorway, glancing over her shoulder. “Enjoy your victory while it lasts, Mackenzie. Because nothing ever truly ends in St. Jude’s.”
One of my friend’s hands lands on my shoulder. “You okay?” Heath asks.
No. But I will be.
For the first time in years, I can finally breathe. They’re both gone. Gordon and Amelia. I turn and fall into Larken’s arms. “We got you, Kenz.”
* * *
The prison air is thick with the scent of bleach and something metallic, something stale. My boots echo against the concrete floors as I’m led through to the visitor area again, my stomach is coiled so tight it feels like I might retch again. This is the third time I’ve tried to see him in the last two months and each time he turned me away. This time I have something important to say.
Creed sits on the other side of the glass partition, clad in the standard-issue orange jumpsuit, looking every bit the caged animal. His hair is disheveled, jaw clenched so tight I swear I can hear his teeth grinding. He doesn’t look at me. Not once. All I know is that he’s there. Finally, I have a chance to get through to him.
I pick up the phone, willing him to do the same. He stares straight ahead, his shoulders rigid, his expression carved from stone.
“Creed,” I whisper, my voice breaking as I place my hand on the glass. “Please.”
He exhales sharply, his nostrils flaring. Then, he reaches for the receiver, but his grip is loose, like the very act of holding it disgusts him. His lips barely move when he finally speaks.
“Go.”
The word slices through me like a jagged blade. My fingers tighten around the phone, my pulse roaring in my ears.
“No. I need to—”
“You need to go.” His voice is sharper this time, cold, distant. “You did this.”
My breath hitches. “How can you believe that? You think—”
“I don’t think. I know.” His eyes snap to mine then, and the sheer loathing in them nearly knocks me backward. “The evidence came from your fucking phone, Mackenzie. Your emails. Your texts. You handed me over to them and you know what, I was in a legit business with your piece of shit parents.”
My chest caves in. He really thinks I betrayed him. My mother set this up perfectly.
I shake my head furiously. “No, Creed, listen to me—”
His fingers tighten around the receiver, his knuckles turning white. “You’ve done enough. Don’t come back. If you do, it’ll be an empty seat at this end.”
“Creed, please. I’m—”
The line goes dead, and he stands, turning his back to me as the guard ushers him away.
I can’t move. My whole body trembles as I press my hand against the glass, my reflection shattered by the cracks running through my world.
Then, slowly, I stand, my fists clenching at my sides. If that’s how he wants it, then that’s what he’ll get.