Chapter 12
TWELVE
LILITH
Dear Diary,
I like to observe him when he thinks no one is watching.
It’s then you really see a person’s true colors.
I keep the knife as a reminder of how special that night was.
How much I enjoyed the bad; and how much I enjoyed him.
xox
The night goes by quickly, and by the end, when I’ve changed back into my normal clothes and gone out the back door, I find Reon leaning against the wall, waiting for me. My hands start to sweat, and I clamp them shut at the anxious feeling of seeing him.
Did I really expect anything less?
He didn’t come near me for the rest of the night or even look my way. I looked his way, though, at every opportunity.
“Caterpillar. What a dangerous game you play.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear as I hurry past him. He pushes off the wall and falls into step beside me.
“How is Maya?” I ask him because he knows how much I hate cheaters. Although I have been stalking him, I have a funny feeling nothing is going on there. It’s probably all for show. For him, at least.
“At home, asleep. Like a good girl.” When I reach my car, I open the back door and throw my bag on the seat. “How is it living as Cooper?” he asks, and I can’t help but smile.
“How did you know?”
“I get that you are clever, very clever, indeed, to get this far. Most would not have succeeded. These men have powerful connections all around the world. And yet you snuck in under the radar.” He steps closer, now only a few inches from me. “Why did you do it, little Caterpillar?”
I move toward him, staring up into his amber eyes. “I missed you,” I tell him.
“Why did you run?” He lifts his hand to gently caress my chin.
“Are you saying I shouldn’t have?”
One side of his lip curls up. “No, it was probably best you did.” His fingers hold my chin. “Now, where is my knife?”
“Technically, it’s not yours,” I point out, not pulling away from his touch.
“Did you want to play tonight? Just a little?” A fire flickers in his amber gaze, his tone suggestive and daring. The air crackles with tension, desire taking over and swirling within me.
“Play?” I ask.
Reon smirks and steps back, his hands going into the pockets of his expensive Armani suit.
“Yes. Lock your car and come with me,” he demands.
“How do I know you’re not taking me somewhere to kill me?” I ask, holding on to my car door.
“I guess you’ll have to take that risk, Caterpillar.”
I think he knows I’ll do whatever it is he has planned. After closing the door and locking it, I slip my cell into the pocket of my jeans and catch up to him.
“So that you know, I’ve instructed someone to take that knife to the police if anything were to happen to me. So, I would think twice about killing me.” He pulls open the door of his red Porsche and waves for me to get in.
“Let’s not play dumb here, Caterpillar. You know as well as I do that no matter what you could hold over me, those men in there”—he points to the building we left—“would remove it, and I would be free.” He leans down until his lips are almost touching mine.
“You, on the other hand… Well, I’m sure we could work out a plan for you.
” He smirks, and I step back. “What’s the matter?
Are you having second thoughts?” The way he says it makes a shiver go down my spine.
“Your second thought should have been the minute you asked me to come home with you. You see now, Caterpillar, I know you’ve been watching me.
And that’s okay because I’ve been watching you too.
Did you even realize that I’ve had you trailed this entire time?
I must say, I like the fact that you haven’t slept with another man.
It’s refreshing. It means that beautiful pussy of yours will be all mine when it’s time. ”
I take another step back while he leans against his car, watching me.
“Cat got your tongue? You’re lucky no one in there has worked out who you are. If they found out you lied to get in, even if it meant no harm, you would be dead, and not one person would remember your name, Caterpillar. Only me.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Should we play?”
“Play?” I repeat, taking yet another step away from him. For the first time, I think I should be scared of him.
I wanted this, didn’t I?
I mean, I did stupid things to see him. I stole someone’s identity to find out more about him. And the whole time, he was watching me.
Who have I become?
And why is he smirking?
“Caterpillar, are you finally afraid?” His smirk morphs into something more. Then, the next words that fall from his lips snap me back to reality. “You should be.”
I turn and bolt straight to my car. I fumble with the handle, and when I finally slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine, I glance up to find him in the exact same position I left him. Taking a deep breath, I reverse out of the parking spot and gun it out of the lot.
And then I wonder, if I had gone with him, would I have disappeared?
* * *
The next day, I’m sitting in a hotel, far away from the city and from him.
Perhaps I should have sought out a therapist instead of fixating on a man who is more fucked-up than I am.
My foot taps as I wait for time to move faster.
I need to see my father. It’s been more than a few years.
I haven’t even written to him. To be honest, I stopped contacting him altogether.
Even early on in my marriage, it was limited.
And there is a reason for that. I’m more like him than I thought. And I hate that I’m like him at all.
He went to prison when I was fourteen, and from then on, his sister raised me.
My mother died when I was little, and I don’t remember too much about her.
Deven asked that I never mention my family to anyone.
He hated who my father was. Anytime we were asked about my family, Deven would always say, “Her mother died when she was young.” He wasn’t lying, but what he left off was that my father was still alive.
As soon as the clock shows that visiting hours have started, I grab my purse and leave. The prison is about an hour’s drive away, and I wonder if he will even see me or if this trip will be a wasted effort. Is he mad that I haven’t bothered until now?
When I finally arrive, I go through all the necessary checks and then walk through security.
I find my father right away when I enter the visitation room—he’s there waiting for me, his foot tapping as I step closer.
When his eyes lift to meet mine, I see myself staring back at me.
I have one picture of my mother—my father always told me I had her hair. So, I dyed it every chance I had.
He stands, towering over me. His right hand lifts to touch me, but the chains won’t let him go farther, so I slide into a chair across from him instead. He follows my lead, sitting back down, his cuffed hands coming up to rest on the table.
“It’s been too long, Lilith,” he says.
“Has it?”
I never really spoke to him much about what he did. I was merely a teenager, and I had to move right after he was convicted of murder. In the process, I also hated him for that. I lost friends, had to change schools, and so much more because of who he was—no, is.
“It has. You’ve been quiet, and I see you aren’t wearing a ring any longer.” His gaze drops to my hand. His salt-and-pepper hair makes him look old. The last time I saw him, he had mocha-colored hair and looked more… vibrant. Now, he appears worn down and a little lonely.
“No, I guess I’m not.” I take a deep breath, then say, “I divorced him.”
“Good. That man was too beige for you anyway.”
“Maybe that’s what I needed,” I tell him. “I was raised in chaos, Father, or did you forget that?”
“Your Aunt gave you a good life.”
“She spent all your money on alcohol, and by the time I was eighteen, I had nothing.”
“She’s my sister. I thought I could trust her,” he says, defending her.
“Aunt Linda wasn’t bad to me. She was just a drunk,” I remind him, and he nods.
“I know. It’s why I placed you in her custody.”
“I want to talk about it.”
His cuffs make a noise, and I quickly glance down at them before returning my gaze to his face.
“About what, Lilith?”
“About what you did.”
“Why? What help would it be to you to bring up old burdens that separated us?”
“Did you ever love me?” I ask. “I’m your child. But you were always going out and leaving me with a sitter or with Aunt Linda.”
“Yes, of course I did. I do love you. You are quite literally the only thing in this life I love. But, Lilith, some people are not born good. I’m one of them.”
I take that in and breathe deeply, looking down at my bare ring finger.
“I thought about killing Deven several times,” I admit in a quiet whisper.
“But you never acted on it,” he says, and I meet his gaze.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Good. Someone as beautiful as you should never end up in here.”
“Was he the first?” I ask.
“Why are you asking suddenly, Lilith? Not once before have you asked. Is this really what you want to talk about? Is this why you came?” His gaze darts around to ensure that no one is listening to us, because someone always is.
“Yes, it’s why I came. I want to know why I am so fucked-up. Is it because of you?”
“Fucked-up?” His brow furrows as he sits back, his hands staying on the table.
“Why would you assume you’re fucked-up?” I slide my tongue over my teeth, unsure if it’s safe to say anything.
“Lilith, when it’s red, how do you feel?
” I smile. He’s speaking in a way that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but me.
He’s asking me about blood.
“It’s like euphoria,” I whisper, remembering that alley and the knife. And how free I finally felt for the first time.
He takes a deep breath, and I can see the disappointment in his eyes.
“I have a friend in that world. I want you to visit him and tell him I sent you.”
“What do you mean by that world?”
He taps the table. “Listen, Lilith. Don’t fully trust him. Don’t trust anyone. But he will know better than anyone how to help you.”
“Help me? Do you think I’m broken? Am I broken?” I ask in a desperate plea. He reaches out, his hand covering mine, the chains clanking as he moves. This time, I don’t pull away.
“No, sweetie, but you need help. And he is the man to assist. Go to him. Trust me. Tell Arlo I sent you. I don’t have many friends left.
Some have betrayed me, but he never has, then go to your Aunt’s.
She has money for you.” I nod, remembering I have heard that name before.
“And thank you for visiting me. I’ve missed you. ”
“I’ve missed you too, Daddy.”
He releases a relieved breath.
I wonder how it felt being an eighteen-year-old and finding out you’re a father. And on top of that, he raised me by himself until he couldn’t anymore. On some level, we grew up together and discovered things together.
And now, one of us sits behind bars while the other is more than likely heading that way.