12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Lucas
A nger boils down to my very core as I white-knuckle the steering wheel and scream into the empty car.
Everywhere I go, she’s there—she’s fucking everywhere.
I can’t get her out of my head, and I just want to forget her, forget I ever met her.
She’s like a poison that’s seeped into my veins, and no matter how hard I search for the antidote, I never find it.
I’m well and truly fucked for life.
Maybe that’s what I need to do—to end it, and then she’ll be gone.
As the thought hits my mind, I shake my head.
Fuck that.
That’s the easy way out, and I’m not giving everything up just because my heart’s broken.
No fucking way.
Looking through the rearview mirror, I catch her long dark-brown hair flying behind her as she stands on one of those stupid fucking scooters.
The look of determination is clear on her perfect face, her eyebrows drawn and her lips pulled tightly together.
The corner of my mouth lifts slightly, just for a second, before I remember that I hate her now.
That I can’t think she’s cute.
She fucked everything up, and that’s on her.
I didn’t make her pull that trigger—hell, she didn’t mean to either, but she still took them away from me.
The traffic light turns red, and I really want to drive through it, to keep going, but I find myself stopping.
Freya pulls up next to me and slams her fist against my window.
I ignore her, pretending like she doesn’t exist, because I wish she didn’t.
I pull out a bag from my glove box and empty the white substance onto the back of my hand before bringing it to my nose.
Maybe this is insensitive, given what she’s gone through with her mom, but fuck that.
At least she has a mom.
The banging gets louder and louder, but I block it out.
As the powder hits the back of my throat, the pain vanishes and my head becomes clear again.
Why the fuck did I avoid coke before?
It’s like a magic potion, giving me that high feeling, like nothing can touch me because nothing can.
The light turns green, and I hit the gas, leaving Freya choking on my fumes.
I keep driving until I find myself outside of the cemetery.
After switching off the engine, I get out, bringing a bottle of vodka with me, and I move through the gates.
My heart beats so loud, it’s all I can hear.
I twist off the lid, and it falls to the ground.
When I bring the bottle to my lips, the vodka burns a line down my throat, and I don’t stop until half of it is gone.
I keep moving until I come to a stop outside the tomb.
Memories from that night bleed through my brain.
It was the worst night of my life .
.
.
and the best.
I became a leader of The Brotherhood, something I’ve waited my whole life for.
The ceremony was everything I’d imagined it would be and so much more, standing beside my brothers and sacrificing ourselves to each other and to The Brotherhood.
Little did I know that wasn’t all I would be sacrificing that night.
Footsteps crunch against the gravel road, and I don’t bother looking over my shoulder.
Her honey-and-milk body wash pervades the air as she stands next to me, her warmth so close.
If I were to reach out, I could pull her into my arms and never let her go.
No, I can’t.
I won’t let her in.
She’s toxic, remember?
Fuck.
“Lucas, I—”
“Just fuck off back to where you belong.” The words feel like poison between my lips.
As the silence stretches between us, I can hear every breath she takes.
Bringing the bottle to my lips, I let it wash everything away.
“Please don’t do this,” she pleads, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“You don’t get any say in what I do,” I snap.
“Doing this won’t bring them back. Please, just let me—” She reaches for me, and I stumble back.
“Fuck off!” I roar, but she doesn’t move.
I meet her eyes, and it’s like looking into the bright-blue water of the ocean.
Fuck.
No.
I can’t let her draw me back in.
“You’re ruining your life with this shit. I’ve seen how hard it’s been for my mother to quit, and I won’t let you end up like her.” She steps forward, and anger boils inside me.
I turn and storm off, marching through the graveyard.
She follows, her footsteps right behind me.
I stop and she bumps into my back.
When I whirl around, she doesn’t move an inch.
Our bodies touch.
So close, yet so far away.
“Fuck. Off,” I hiss through my teeth, and she rolls her shoulders back.
The tension is thick in the air, tightening its grip around me, cutting off my air supply.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, her face only inches from mine.
Fuck.
My hands shake, and without thinking, I bring the bottle down hard against one of the headstones.
The shards of glass fly around us, and she still doesn’t move.
I bring the smashed bottle up to her neck.
Her eyes stare into my very soul, challenging me, telling me to push harder, to make her bleed.
Begging me to do something.
I obey.
My hand wraps around her throat, my thumb pressing against her windpipe.
The bottle rests just below her ear.
Her eyes swim with darkness, holding all the power, screaming at me to do it.
To slice the glass bottle across her throat.
And fuck, I want to.
I want to make her bleed, just like she made my mother bleed.
A line of deep red blood runs down her neck.
My stomach twists.
God, no!
As much as I want to do this, I can’t.
Not to her.
I release the bottle, and it falls to the ground, shattering into a million pieces.
My gaze doesn’t leave hers as I run my thumb over the blood, collecting every drop.
I bring it to my lips and run my tongue over the warm liquid.
The metallic taste floods my mouth in a bitter, acrid wave.
My hands shake with rage as I smear her blood over her plump lips.
Her tongue glides gently against my thumb as she opens her mouth.
The pressure of my cock against my slacks is impossible to ignore.
“You taste that?” I ask, and she nods.
“Good. I hope you fucking choke on your own blood for taking everything away from me,” I seethe, before stepping away.
Her eyes glaze over, her warmth disappears, and I’m left cold.
It feels as though she took that bottle and drove it straight into my heart.
I turn and walk away, leaving my heart with her.