Chapter 11
Is this peace? The humming vibration of anxiety has gone quiet, and it’s as if the bones have finally settled in my body. There’s relief and weariness in equal measure, like I’ve just had a good workout, like I’m finally enjoying the efforts of all that straining and hard work.
As I stoke the fire, I find myself completely at ease. Even though I know our struggles aren’t over, even though I know danger still lurks somewhere in the shadows of this house.
Has the sound of a blow-dryer ever been so sweet and melodic?
Yes, I bought her one of those ultra-quiet ones—one that wouldn’t drive her half-mad while she used it—but there’s something so harmonic about knowing that she’s finally using it.
Something as simple as her getting ready in the bathroom I remodeled just for her—the soft lighting, the heating, her comfort colors—that’s incredibly satisfying.
I did that. I brought her back. She’s home.
That thought alone could send me to euphoria if I allowed it, could wipe away all of the misery, all of those lonely nights.
Despite that comfort and the blazing heat of the fire, an icy chill creeps up on me, the hair standing at the back of my neck.
Living in a house brimming with spirits, I’m no stranger to being watched.
But the eyes on me now are distinct, filled with a hatred I can feel from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head.
Rising to my feet, I turn to find the source of all my problems.
“You’re at ease for someone on borrowed time.” Ivan leans one shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as if he’s completely at ease.
“Borrowed, stolen, I’ll take it.”
“I have no doubt. You seem happy with my sloppy seconds.” The indifference in his voice is betrayed by the narrowing of his eyes.
The insinuation is a slice to my patience, not my ego, as he intends. “Watch your fucking mouth when you’re talking about her.”
“Or what?” There’s that smug smirk, the one that only these intellectual types who are born thinking they’re better than everyone have. The one they wear when they think they have no fear of losing.
I always did love wiping it off their faces.
Yeah, I was well off, but I wasn’t one of those insufferable pricks who let it define them.
My parents worked for everything they had.
Taught me the value of things and how dedication was the only way to stay ahead, excellence in what you do, the only way to stay on top.
I never had any problem getting my hands dirty for the things I wanted, even when I could snap my fingers and get them.
“Or I’ll make your end excruciatingly painful.”
Ivan laughs. “You do realize I’m already dead…”
“Then I guess you have nothing to worry about, right?” There’s a challenge in the question, one he recognizes. His gaze tracks over me, top to bottom, then back again.
“You always were clever, I’ll give you that, but delusion is beneath you.” He strides closer. “How about we make a deal? Hmm?” His voice drips with an eager greed that turns my stomach.
Instead of telling him to go fuck himself, I clench my teeth. Not because I’m curious about taking up his offer, but because every crumb of information I can gather about his draw to Sol and his relationship with her, the better equipped I am to destroy it.
“You get to enjoy this little fantasy it seems you need to live out. Within reason, of course. How about I give you a few days together, and you can do whatever it is you have your heart set on.” His grimace is ripe with disgust, but he rights it, twitching lips forced into neutrality.
“Then, you end it. Then, you give her over to me.”
The audacity is actually staggering, leaving me at a loss for words for several long seconds. “Are you out of your mind? Absolutely fucking not.”
“This is your chance to give her a peaceful end to her life. Don’t you think she’d rather have someone familiar, someone she cares for, do it for her?
A morbid little thing like Solaneen, she’s likely dreamed of just that scenario.
You, piercing your…blade…into her, holding her, talking her through it.
” His lip curls in a devious smirk. “Yes, I do think she’d like that just fine. Seems more than generous of me.”
“In what fucking world would I ever do that?” I roll my shoulders back, itching to grab the poker even though I know it’ll do no good.
Instead, I steel my expression, doing my best to maintain my composure despite the desire to react coursing through me.
He’s seeking a response, playing on my emotions, my softness for her.
His gaze sharpens, his lips drawing into a narrow line of disdain. “I’m extending you an opportunity that I won’t entertain again if you turn it down.” He comes closer still, shadows thickening around him as his anger rises.
I’m forced to tilt my head back just so when he finally stops in front of me.
He has several inches on me, something that’s rare, but height doesn’t make the man.
He might throw an imposing figure around, but just like anything else rotted, when you find its weak point, it crumbles.
For now, I choose to hold my cards close and bide my time. It takes every shred of control I have.
“How she spends her final days is up to you, but she will die.”
My vision turns to static, the room spinning momentarily. Just hearing those words short-circuits my brain. But a surge of violent protectiveness snaps me back to the present, everything sharp and vibrant, certainty electric in my veins.
“Let me make something crystal motherfucking clear. Her life isn’t ending, and I’ll never let you have her.”
“Tell me, Hawthorne. Have you ever watched the light dim in a woman’s eyes? Watched as her lips parted and stilled on one final breath? The way her breasts heave as she waits for death to settle in her chest?” His eyes go distant, but that sickening smile remains.
My blood turns cold, my stomach drops. I’ve encountered angry spirits, vengeful ones, even. But never in my life could I say with such confidence that I was staring in the face of evil.
He takes my silence as the obvious answer it is. “Then you could never imagine the lengths I would go to in order to have her. You will not take that from me.”
The telltale groan of the top stair steals my attention for a moment, but Ivan recaptures it with a threat.
“Make no mistake, you will wish you never met Solaneen Gomez when I’m done with you.” He casts a glance over his shoulder, then holds my gaze as he walks backward into the wall. “I will make you regret ever falling for her.”
He retreats just as Sol reaches the bottom of the staircase, and I turn to the fireplace to give myself a moment to school my features.
I have to ball my fists to contain the anger coursing through me and making my hands shake.
Getting a hold of my emotions is no easy feat, but I’m determined to enjoy this moment of peace.
There’s no way I’m allowing this to ruin the blip of happiness we’ve found.
“Hey,” Sol mumbles against my back as she wraps her arms around me.
It’s simple, but the reassurance of her voice, of how at ease she is as she rests her head against me, nearly makes my knees buckle. I grit my teeth, fighting with everything I have to push down all the anxiety that’s been stirred up until it’s buried at the back of my mind.
“Are you hungry?”
“I should probably eat.” A typical Sol answer, but one I’m prepared for.
“I don’t have a lot of options, it’s just been me and—” I clear my throat, carefully avoiding anything that might ruin this moment for us. “I hadn’t planned on having you back here, so I haven’t had a chance to stock up on your safe foods yet.”
She tenses just a fraction, and I’m quick to realize my mistake, eager to reassure her that she’s not an imposition.
Sol has always been welcome at the dinner table; my parents made sure of that.
“It’s no problem. I can get a delivery. I just meant that for now, there are only a few things that suit your preferences.
But…” I take her hand and tug her behind me into the kitchen.
“I always keep ingredients for your favorite meal. You know, just in case.”
“Just in case you decided to kidnap me?” Her tone is flat as she teases.
“That, or in case you decided to come back to me.”
“Always the optimist, aren’t you?” She casts her gaze downward, shuttering something from me, but I feel the wave of guilt that unfurls from her dark and somber. “I need you to know, it was never about you, Thorne.”
Closing the fridge, I quickly unload all of the ingredients I’d grabbed.
Leaning down, I meet her eyes. “I know.” It’s an easy reassurance because at the end of the day, I always knew that.
In my darkest moments, I did try to pick apart our relationship, desperate to find something I’d done wrong, some reason I didn’t deserve her.
But I never found one. We were meant for each other.
We were worthy of one another. Even when others challenged it.
“Why did you wait for me?” Her curiosity dances with apprehension.
“Because we’re fate.” I ignore the eye roll she throws my way. “I knew it the first time I ever set eyes on you. The first time those gorgeous brown eyes met mine, you possessed me utterly and completely.”
“You call that fate? I’d say that’s more of a foreboding omen.”
“Maybe you were an omen, but never a bad one. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because I mean it. Because it’s true.” Sol attempts to turn away, but I pull her back against me, capturing her in my arms.
“I want to believe it.”
“You have to forgive yourself for the choices you made when you felt like you had no other way out.”
“Why should I?”