Chapter 7
Grace
The next morning, Cyrus wakes up to find me sitting beside him, nervously watching him and chewing my nails.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
I didn’t sleep a wink—not really. And if I did, it was only five minutes here and there.
I kept drinking coffee and checking the locks.
I checked the blinds, closed the windows, and drew the curtains closed.
The bedroom is hot and airless. Cyrus is slick with sweat—but I had to do this if I wanted any chance of closing my eyes.
Because I saw him all night. His gaze, his face, and…
his body. And dreams coiled around me like snakes, trying to crush me while injecting poison into my veins.
A poison named Chase Baker. A poison that doesn’t kill me—quite the opposite: it makes me feel alive.
My heart rate isn’t slowing down. The wheels keep turning in my head.
I no longer feel like I’m half-dead. The slumber, the waiting…
it’s over. The will to live wakes up. Because I no longer have to be afraid of Bo and his gang.
Chase killed them. He’s here. Stalking me. Watching me.
Maybe this moment is what I’d been waiting for, somewhere deep down.
A reason to stab him in the heart with a kitchen knife—to do what I’d been too weak to do years ago.
To make him pay for all his sins. I did have the opportunity—the perfect one, served on a silver platter.
And I didn’t seize it. But I won’t be weak this time.
I’m going to do it. Because that kiss was only a momentary weakness. I was crazy.
Cyrus looks away, stricken. He’s acting strange—irrational—as if guilt were clawing at his chest. I don’t like this.
“Why doesn’t this upset you?” I ask. “I know you’ve seen a thing or two as a cop, but I thought that—” I take a deep breath, “—something like this happening to your girlfriend would affect you more.”
“I knew.”
“You knew what?” My heart starts hammering.
“That Chase Baker’s been out for two years.”
“What?” My breath catches in my throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I jump out of bed nervously, accusation blazing on my face.
Cyrus jumps out of bed too, stands up angrily, and rakes his fingers through his wet, matted hair. Drops of sweat glint on his huge body like diamonds.
“Because you weren’t doing well, Grace. Remember how you were when you were released from the hospital. You couldn’t have handled the burden of knowing he’d been released, and—”
“Say it! Say it, Cyrus!” I demand. My hand clenches into a fist at my side.
“You still aren’t doing well!” His deep voice booms through the room like an explosion. “Hearing the tiniest noise scares you to death. You close every door and window, even though I’m lying right here beside you…”
“I’m sorry, Cyrus. I…” I bite my lower lip and shake my head. “We kissed. Or—more precisely—he kissed me, and I didn’t object. I couldn’t.”
Cyrus looks away, disappointed. I step toward him, but he raises his hand. I stop. I don’t know which of us is more hurt—him or me…
“Cyrus…” My voice falters.
“Stay home today, Grace. I’ll send an officer to stand outside the door, and… keep it locked.”
He grabs his black tank top and walks past me. I feel as if a sharp knife had pierced my heart. Pain claws at my chest, and a sob tightens my throat.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
I’m standing at the sink and watching deep red droplets of blood fall onto the dirty gray tiles, one by one, in a steady rhythm.
My skin is cold and clammy—it feels as if icy water was coursing through my veins.
My head is a beehive. My ears are ringing, as if water were gushing from a faucet.
It’s been a long time since I was this far beside myself.
Betrayal weighs heavy on my heart. Cyrus’s betrayal—and our fight this morning—only deepened the wounds in my heart.
He knew how important it was for me to feel safe.
He hid the truth from me to protect me. But I had the right to know that Chase was walking the streets of Willow Creek—and that he could come for me any time.
I understand why he didn’t tell me right after Bo’s gang raped me, but later—maybe—he could have.
Who do you think you’re fooling? A voice whispers from the back of my mind. The news would have crushed me no matter when I heard it. But back then, I wouldn’t have had to face the fact that the one person I trusted unconditionally had “betrayed” me.
My thoughts are shattered by a sound.
Someone is knocking on the front door.
I’m standing at the sink when the fog clears from my vision—now I can see my hand, still bleeding. Pure terror floods my mind. The tiny drops falling at my feet pool together on the tiles.
Who can it be?
Maybe the police officer Cyrus sent. Maybe he asked him to check on me a few times after seeing how badly I’d fallen apart. Yeah. It’s probably him.
Another knock rattles the thin hardboard, but I don’t move—past and present blur together, flashing through my mind. Memories and images surface, then vanish as another one replaces them.
“I know you’re in there, Grace!”
Rationality drains from me, like through a sink with the plug yanked out. My tear-blurred gaze snaps to the door.
This is impossible!
“Grace!” The pounding on the door continues, then someone presses down the door handle, and the door… opens.
Did I forget to lock it?
The realization is a slap in my face, while she…
“Aren’t you happy to see me, little sister?” Nikky flounces in with a fake, icy smile on her lips, dressed in chic clothes, then closes the door behind her.
Then I remember what Bo told me about her.
How could I not see it? They were in touch the whole time.
Nikky must have heard that the gang she loved so much has met its end, and soon they’ll be rotting under the ground.
I gulp and open my mouth to say something when the door blasts open and slams against the wall.
Flakes of paint rain onto the floor. This aggressive intrusion makes my heart clench.
At first, gratitude floods my body, but when I look at who burst in, the blood drains from my face along with all rational thought. It’s Chase, not Cyrus. I go pale like a corpse, and my eyes nearly pop from their sockets as I stare at him with my mouth open.
So Chase knows where I live? And Nikky too?
Chase looks first at my hand, then at the floor, then at Nikky, who’s chewing gum. She never got rid of that annoying habit. She pulls the pink gum from her mouth and twists it around her index finger, her gaze flickering between Chase and me, eyebrows raised.
No one says a word. The air around us seems to evaporate—I feel as if someone had yanked the ground out from under my feet. I want to explain everything, but my tongue won’t obey.
“Nikky,” I moan in a faltering voice. My throat is as dry as sandpaper.
“I’ve always known you were lying, Grace,” she spits, then looks around the flat. My jaw twitches.
Intruder.
Her seeing where—and how—I live with Cyrus makes me uncomfortable. Not because I’m ashamed of it, but because she’s crossed my boundaries. She came—they came—into my house, my home, my personal space, and they had no right.
Nikky sprawls across my bed, putting her legs on the clean bedsheet without taking off her shoes. Bile rises in my throat, and I almost throw up.
Why did she come here? Why are they here at all?
I hadn’t seen Nikky since that night—I hadn’t even heard from her. It was as if she’d disappeared into thin air.
Chase steps in front of me without a word and looks at my bleeding wound. He takes my hand in his palm, gently—his touch sending a shiver through my body. My breathing turns shallow, because his intoxicating scent and worried gaze hold me captive.
He takes a clean kitchen cloth from the shelf and wraps it around my hand.
“Why did you do this, Grace?” he asks. His deep, resonant voice makes me dizzy.
“Because of you,” I whisper. Chase’s jaw tightens.
My body shudders with fear. He steps closer until his chest presses against my breasts.
My nipples harden, and a sharp, aching need stirs between my legs as the rough weave of his sweater grazes the most sensitive parts of my body.
I close my eyes. His full lips brush my damp forehead, leaving a gentle kiss behind.
My lips part, and a bitter sigh escapes through them.
I lift my lashes, heavy with tears. For a fraction of a second, our gazes lock. In his irises, a dark, dangerous, unstoppable whirlpool churns.
Chase takes me in with his eyes, happiness and satisfaction blending across his face in perfect harmony. He’s always known how to make me believe how much I matter. How deeply he loves me.
“Don’t do this again,” he whispers into my ear. My body tenses.
He doesn’t get to tell me what I can or can’t do anymore. I’m a free woman. I have free will. I have the right to make decisions about my own life.
Chase brushes past me and strides over to Nikky.
He growls something at her through clenched teeth, grabs her thin arm, and yanks her aggressively out of my bed.
His grip tightens around her elbow. She lets out a sharp, catlike whine—but her lips curve into a seductive, provocative smile. She’s flirting with him.
“Get out—and never come near her again!”
Chase marches her out of the flat and slams the door in her face. My sister doesn’t give up without a fight—she starts pounding on the door.
“You have no right to do this, Chase! Grace is my sister!” She kicks the door. “She’s my sister—I have the right to talk to her!”
Chase turns toward me. I grab a knife from the kitchen counter.
“If you come any closer, I’ll do it, Chase.” I press the cold blade against my warm wrist. My heart hammers in my chest. I feel the pulse of the vein throbbing beneath the knife’s edge.
My hand trembles like a bird shivering on a bare branch. Still, I’m ready to follow through. I’m ready to end this madness.