54. Unmasked – Aurora
54
UNMASKED
AURORA
“T ell me what he did.”
Elijah and Ellie chase me through the house, all the way up the stairs into my room.
I shove through the door and meet the dead end of space and wonder why the fuck I even came in here. It feels small, tight, asphyxiating . I turn around and go the other way, almost tripping over Ellie in my haste to rush right back down the stairs and out the front door on my bare feet.
“Aurora,” Elijah calls after me as I storm down the drive, spotting the Jeep parked out front. I make a beeline straight for the driver’s side door as the buzzing in my ears grows louder, overtaking every other sound.
Throwing myself into the seat, I reach for the keys in the ignition, but my hand comes up empty.
“ Fuck! ” I slam my palms against the wheel.
Elijah opens the door, raising his hands as if I might shoot. “Hey, it’s okay. Whatever happened, we can?—”
“ What ?” I snap, hating myself. “We can what? ”
God fucking dammit!
Elijah needs to leave. I don’t want to take this rage out on him. There’s something building just beneath my breastbone and I’m not sure what will happen when it bursts, but I don’t want him or Ellie in the blast radius.
I grab the door from him and shut it, locking myself inside the vehicle as Ellie tries to claw her way in one side, and Elijah presses his hands to the window on the other.
“Just go!”
“Please.” Elijah’s breath fogs against the window and his soft, gentle tone makes me want to cry and scream all at the same time. “Please just talk to me, Angel.”
I drop my head to the wheel, trying to steady my breaths, but they only come harder as the back of my neck boils to an inferno, and I think I might pass out from the heatwave racing over my body.
Elijah tries the handle, and I flinch.
“Please,” I shout against the steering wheel. “If you aren’t going to get me the fucking keys, just go !”
I need everyone to leave me the fuck alone. I need to think. I need to calm the fuck down.
“I can’t let you drive, Angel. And I’m not going to leave you like this,” Elijah says quietly. “So I’ll just be right here when you’re ready.”
The gravel shifts under his feet as he moves away from the Jeep and calls Ellie with him. When I look out the window, I find him sitting on the ground outside the Jeep, trying to get Ellie to sit patiently next to him.
A sob tries to swell in my chest, but it evaporates in the inferno still coiling through my lungs, making me want to spit fire. I curl my fists around the wheel until my fingers strain and hurt.
How fucking dare Atticus say that shit to me? And after I agreed to help them?
A raw shout pushes from my throat, an animalistic sound.
There’s an engine trying and failing to turn over in my chest, sputtering as it floods over and over again.
I let that bastard touch me. But that’s not even why it hurts so much. It’s not where I let him leave his marks on my body; it’s where I didn’t realize I was letting him leave his mark someplace deeper.
Even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I wanted what I thought someone like Atticus—someone completely unwilling to compromise the safety of his family—could give me. Like a pathetic moron, I actually woke up this morning thinking that I could really belong here. With them .
For one fleeting second, I believed it.
I wanted it so badly. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. And now it’s ruined. It’s all fucking ruined .
My rage focuses to a dangerous point as I remember the moments before I let him have me. The vulnerability I felt with one of my favorite songs echoing in the record-filled space around us.
Did he already know music was one of my passions? Did he really hear from one of the guys that I like Sleep Token, or did he stalk my Spotify while he was ravaging through my phone?
Was it all a manipulation?
I can see why they like you , he said.
Was it all a lie?
…you could stay. If that’s what you wanted.
You wouldn’t mind that?
No, Trouble.
Liar.
I don’t think I would mind that at all.
Fucking. LIAR.
I need to get out of here.
With trembling hands, I lift my head and flip down the visor, looking for a spare key, but finding my reflection instead.
I gasp at the girl in the mirror, my pulse skittering in my chest like a caged thing.
My eyes are a violent red. The pupils dilated so big that I look like a fucking monster. Black drips down my face from the ugly streaks of yesterday’s mascara standing out in heavy contrast with my pale skin.
I want to look away, but I don’t. I can’t.
Because there she is in brutal, blinding clarity—the Aurora that I’ve hidden from the world for as long as I can remember. She stares back at me with cruel venom in her eyes. With a sort of certainty that I didn’t know I had.
She tells me I was right to want Atticus to hurt.
He deserves to hurt like I hurt.
I promised myself never again. I promised .
I shiver as I slam the visor shut. No.
Stop.
Stop, stop, stop .
Keys. I need the keys.
I pop the glove box open.
I need to get out of?—
As I search for the spare keys, my fingers clasp something solid and cool and metal, and I pull out a gun instead.
Fuck.
Oh fuck.
He should know how it feels.
No.
He should hurt.
No.
I can hurt him.
Yes.
I feel nothing but cold conviction as I step out of the Jeep.
Elijah launches to his feet, sighing with relief he shouldn’t feel. “Oh, thank god.”
There is no God.
“Aurora?”
Ellie whines as she pushes her snout into my shin. “Sit,” I command. “Stay.”
She gives me an anxious bark but does as she’s told.
“Aurora, what are you doing with that?”
Did he say something? All I can hear is the echo of my own heartbeat.
Hurt him. Hurt him. Hurt him .
“Hey,” he says, racing ahead of me to stand in my path. “Angel, hey, look at me. Look at me. You don’t want to do this.”
He’s wrong.
“Move.”
Elijah makes a move to take the weapon from me, and I snarl at him. “ Don’t .”
I don’t allow myself to understand the look on his face. What it means that his eyes are wide and he can’t seem to catch his breath.
I shoulder past him, up the stairs and through the open door of the house.
“Wait,” Elijah says, frantic as he shuts the door behind him to stop Ellie coming in. “Aurora, just wait for one second.”
Atticus appears at the top of the stairs, coming from the hall to the left. Was he in my fucking room?
The gun comes up all on its own, and Atticus freezes between the landing and the top step. He knows I have him dead to rights.
His jaw snaps shut.
“ You! ”
“Aurora,” he says in a pacifying tone that makes my blood spike with something that tastes like power. It’s fucking delicious .
“You bastard!”
The gun shakes in my grip.
“You don’t want to do that.”
“Don’t tell me what I want!”
Elijah comes closer, and I jerk away.
“ Eli ,” Atticus snaps. “Back away. This is between me and her.”
Seven enters through the dining room, coming into the entryway to lean against the banister at the base of the stairs. At first I think he’s going to try to stop me. Block my warpath. But he crosses his arms over his chest and just…watches.
“Let her pass,” he says to Elijah, picking something from his thumbnail.
“Seven, she has a gun .”
“I can see that.”
Atticus stepping down another stair draws my attention back to him, and the rage sparks back to a full burn.
He raises his hands, slowing his movements as he drops down another step.
My chest squeezes when I remember the feel of those hands on my body, and I almost gag.
I flick off the safety and Atticus flinches.
God, I want to shout at him. There are a thousand curses poised at the tip of my tongue, but none of them will hit as hard as this bullet will.
“I was wrong,” he says, and my vision narrows. “I never should’ve accused you without having more facts.”
Seven scoffs.
“I never should’ve accused you at all,” Atticus amends, and my palm starts to sweat against the gun in my grip. I didn’t anticipate this, but it changes nothing.
Atticus comes down another step, and I bare my teeth.
His jaw is red and swollen, I realize. And there’s blood at the corner of his mouth.
Did Seven hit him?
When I meet Seven’s blue eyes, they hold mine steadily.
He isn’t trying to stop me. He only watches. And something tells me he is going to let this play out no matter what I do.
My throat goes dry as my adrenaline-addled thoughts race to find the reason why.
He doesn’t think I’m wrong?
He doesn’t think I’m crazy?
He doesn’t think I’m bad?
I read the words in the fine print of his stare.
They tell me it’s okay. That he understands.
Seven sees my monster, and he doesn’t want to tame it. He wants to free it.
My arm feels heavier, and it’s a fight to keep hold of the rage.
A broken sob escapes my lips, and I sniff hard to try to pull it all back in.
While I’ve been busy looking at Seven, Atticus has reached the bottom stair.
“Stay back!”
I adjust my aim and his hands rise higher in submission.
Elijah lets out another string of expletives somewhere beside me, and I sense his anxiety like tainted fingertips brushing against my resolve.
Atticus doesn’t listen to me, and I shift my grip, moving my finger to poise it next to the trigger as he comes even closer.
“Fuck, fuck ,” Elijah curses as he spirals, shifting on his feet, making me fucking shifty. He can’t stop me. I won’t let him.
No one is taking this from me.
This is mine.
It’s mine.
Atticus stops with only a breath between himself and the gun at his throat.
I could erase him with a flick of my finger. I could blow a hole through his windpipe and watch him choke as he dies. I could.
But I can’t ignore Elijah next to me, no matter how hard I try to. Or the way Seven is starting to stiffen where he leans on the banister.
Are they as afraid as I am that I might do it?
“I was wrong,” Atticus repeats. “And I’m sorry.”
He’s sorry?
He’s fucking sorry?
I growl through my teeth, unable to find words strong enough to tell him how little I care about him being sorry .
“I did what I did because I thought I was protecting my family,” he adds. “I need you to try to understand that.”
“Fuck you.”
His jaw flexes and his next words come out harsh and blunt. “It’s the truth. I might’ve gone about it in a fucked-up way, but I will always do whatever it takes to keep them safe. I made a promise to Florence—that I would always protect them. Always put them first.”
The angry thing in my chest twists.
He may not have said the exact words, but Atticus threatened to kill me. Implied I was a fucking whore after he manipulated me into his bed.
“And I promised myself I would never let anyone threaten me again, and I actually keep my fucking promises.”
Rage and hurt flicker over his face at the insult.
“You left them.”
His cheekbones flare, and I don’t give two shits if I’m not being fair. I hope my words hurt him. I hope they slice right through his facade of self-control. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man with less self-restraint than Atticus.
Fuck him.
Fuck. Him.
“That’s not fair.” His voice is a low rumble.
“None of this is fair!”
“Fine,” he says through his teeth, and I gasp when he wraps his hand around the barrel of the gun and presses it against his chest, right over his heart. It thuds into my palm through the metal. “You want to hurt me, then hurt me.”
“ Aurora ,” Elijah breathes, and I shiver.
“If you want it to hurt the most—” He aims the barrel down toward his kneecap. “Take my knees.”
My ears ring and pins and needles spike along my arms.
“If you want it over quick,” he jerks the barrel up and holds it to the space between his eyes, “plant your lead right between my eyes.”
My breaths falter and my mouth goes dry.
“And if you want the pain to last before I’m gone…” He lowers the weapon and plants it against his stomach—mirroring where he pushed the barrel of his own gun into me. “Then shoot me here.”
I’m shaking and I can’t seem to make it stop.
“I won’t apologize for protecting them, but I am apologizing for hurting you. I can see now that you aren’t interested in hearing that, so accept it or don’t, but either way don’t take it out on Eli and Sev.”
I hate the guilt in his eyes. It has no right to be there.
It doesn’t matter now, anyway. Elijah and Seven won’t want me to stay after this.
“What the hell did you do, man?” Elijah demands, his voice cracking. He should be yelling at me. I’m the one with the gun to his best friend’s stomach.
Atticus replies to him while never taking his eyes off me. “Something I’ll be regretting for a long time, Eli.”
My stomach aches.
“Bull shit .”
Somewhere behind me, Ellie barks. Hear her claws scratch at the door, and I lose another inch of my edge at the knowledge that I’m scaring her.
“She said yes, you know,” he tells Elijah. “She was willing to risk her life for our vengeance before I fucked it all up.”
Elijah comes into my line of sight, his brows low over his eyes, haunted. “Is that true?”
There’s a tremble in my throat. A quiver in my bones. He looks so hopeful. I thought he didn’t want me to help them. Did he change his mind?
“It doesn’t matter now.”
Elijah won’t want a crazy bitch living under his roof.
“It does,” Atticus argues, and I realized I said the words aloud. “But I don’t care if you help us anymore. Just don’t let what I did ruin things for my brothers. They really care about you, Aurora.”
Atticus closes his eyes and breathes out slow, releasing the barrel of the gun to lower his hands to his sides in open-palmed surrender, handing me back the power.
“You do what you need to do. They’ll forgive you.”
He waits, and I can’t seem to move my finger. Did I want him dead? I wanted to hurt him. I still do. But then why can’t I move my finger the five millimeters to the left to exact my vengeance?
“Aurora.” My name is a plea on Elijah’s lips. “Please. I can’t lose anyone else.”
My heart cracks, bleeds, and as the rage pours out, a sob escapes with it.
At the door, Ellie barks and whines and my stomach hollows.
“Let me take the gun,” Elijah whispers, and when he comes closer, I don’t have the energy left to stop him. Everything feels so heavy.
When his fingers brush against mine, my hand reflexively releases the weapon, and he takes it, pulling me hard into his chest. “I’ve got you, it’s okay. It’s okay, Angel.”
He plants a kiss on the top of my head that makes my eyes burn like hell. He isn’t angry? How can he not be angry?
Atticus doesn’t deserve him.
I don’t, either.
I cling to Elijah, and I swear he’s the most steady thing I’ve ever held on to. An anchor in the black sea of my mind. And I don’t ever want to let him go.
Please don’t make me let you go.
“I’m sorry,” I cry into his chest.
“I know. I forgive you, Angel.” He strokes his thumb against the side of my neck. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.”
“I’ll find a way to make this right, Aurora,” Atticus says, and the last flickers of my rage rip me out of Elijah’s arms, away from the calm they provided.
I shove Atticus as hard as I can, making him knock back into the stairs.
Seven steps out of the way, watching Atticus grimace when his spine connects with the edge of the bottom stair. I need to make this absolutely clear if there’s any chance I can salvage a little piece of what I found here—with Elijah and Seven.
“You don’t get to talk to me.” The words come out eerily calm. Venomous in the dead silence. “You don’t look at me. You don’t say my name. Do you hear me?”
He recoils, unable to meet my stare.
“Do you hear me?” I shout, my voice blaring like a siren now, shrill and demanding attention.
A vein in his temple throbs as he clenches his jaw. “I hear you.”
“I’m doing this for them,” I scream. “Not for you.”
That gets his attention. He looks up at me in unreserved shock. “You’ll still help us?”
“ Them ,” I correct. “I’m going to help them . I don’t exist to you.”
He snaps his mouth shut. Looks down.
I can see the fight in his coiled muscles. He doesn’t want to respect my wishes, but he will, only because he doesn’t want to risk me backing out. He doesn’t care about me, he just doesn’t want to be blamed for the missed opportunity only I can give them.
Atticus says nothing. He doesn’t look at me.
It’s just like I told him: like I don’t exist.
And when I spin on my heel to go back outside with Ellie, I decide he doesn’t, either.