Chapter 13 Dread
DREAD
I’ve seen Reverie Adams have just about every reaction known to man after I’ve done something to hurt her.
But I’ve never seen her cry like this.
Not in the four years I’ve made her life hell has she ever sobbed so hard, she stopped breathing.
In a matter of seconds, her brown eyes filled with tears, her chin trembled, and her hands flew to cover her face just as the first sob burst free.
And there’s a single millisecond in time when I almost feel guilty. A minuscule lapse in judgment, yet the effect is staggering. My muscles tighten, and I bristle with unease, as if someone dragged a nail against a chalkboard.
But then, logic returns, and anger pushes its way back in. After nearly destroying my career and ruining my life again, she sits here, and she fucking cries.
My upper lip curls as I lower to my haunches, leaning my elbows on my spread knees.
She deserves nothing from me.
Not my guilt, my forgiveness, nor my mercy.
Which is exactly why I brought her here to begin with—an indoor pool one town over from Hollow Canyon.
The owner, Martin, gave me the keys to it my freshman year so I can train after hours without onlookers.
While I have access to the pool in the sports center, I’m still limited to the center’s general operating hours, as it’s the only way to access it.
Because of that, there are always students standing outside the windows, watching me practice or waiting for me to come out so they can talk to me.
This place offers me a reprieve from campus and complete, utter solitude.
Perfect for what I have planned for Reverie.
“Are you done?” I ask, my tone as devoid of compassion as the cold press of a barrel to one’s temple.
Her hands drop suddenly, and she gives me those reddened, fiery eyes.
Fuck, she’s so pretty when she cries.
“I thought you were my father, you fucking asshole!” Her hands fly out as she shouts. “You have no idea—God, you’re such an idiot!” She fights for her words while I fight to process what the fuck she just said to me. “This entire fucking time, you—”
My arm snaps out, my hand closing around her throat and silencing her instantly. Black spots swim in my vision, and my blood is ice cold.
The corners of her eyes round with terror, freezing in my hold.
“I want you to explain to me really fucking carefully why you think your father would have the ability to kidnap you while locked in a fucking prison over a thousand miles away,” I snarl through gritted teeth, inching my face closer to hers.
What was once a tomato red face now bleaches of color, dried tears streaking down ghost-white cheeks.
She looks like a child caught drawing on the wall with a Sharpie.
Her throat bobs beneath my hand, struggling to swallow as she drops her gaze.
It better be to find her voice again, because if she’s searching for a lie, it’ll be the last thing she does.
“Reverie,” I bark impatiently, flexing my fist.
She winces and reluctantly lifts her stare back to mine. This time, she appears guilty.
But why?
“He’s out,” she rasps, her words rising barely above a whisper.
Emptiness. I feel, hear, and think of nothing. The stillness inside my mind and body is as cold and desolate as outer space.
Reverie grabs my wrist and slowly removes my hand from her throat. I let her, because I’m incapable of a single function outside of staring at her blankly. Her tongue darts out nervously, wetting her bottom lip, while her eyes skip around, landing on everything but me.
“I…”
Her brows pinch as she drops her face to her trembling hands. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so fucking nervous, and I just know what she did before the confession finally tumbles from her mouth.
“I saw the letter that morning in your room, after you nearly killed me with hypothermia. And… I took it. I’d found out the day before the board accepted his parole.
It went to the governor for review, which can take up to thirty days for an official decision, so I wanted every day I could get without you knowing because I—” Her words crack, so she tries again.
“I knew you were going to lose your mind, and yeah, I’ll be honest, Dread, I was fucking terrified of what that was going to look like.
So, I took it. And truthfully, I hoped to be gone before he got out.
” She grimaces again. “And before you found out what I did.”
She sounds muffled as she speaks, as if I’m underwater while she stands at the pool edge, looking down on me. While my brain understands what she’s saying, it’s slow to truly comprehend anything around me.
The pool water pumping through the filtration system is the first thing I register, then the poignant smell of chlorine.
And within the blink of an eye, I’m plunging back into reality, and everything hits me. I’m so aware of it all, I can feel my blood boiling, flowing through my veins like lava, as well as the erratic beat of my heart overflowing with absolute pure. Fucking. Rage.
I stand so quickly, my knees crack from the force, causing Reverie to flinch and cross her arms over her face, as if she expected me to strike her.
I’ve done a lot to her, put my hands on her in a lot of ways, but I’ve never hit her. Thankfully for her, I don’t even have the concentration to feel offended by it.
“How?” I growl, my voice deeper and rougher, sounding demonic. “They post their decisions on the website, so I’ve been checking every fucking week since the board said they’d decide within one hundred twenty days and haven’t seen shit.”
She grimaces. “Yeah, so about that. They’re allowing special circumstances with him and are waiting an extra week to post it due to some random group of people apparently threatening to kill him if the board approved his parole.
Plus, with how high profile he is, they didn’t want to deal with the circus showing up to witness him walking out. ”
A wildfire rages in my chest, burning a fiery path up my throat.
This entire fucking time, I thought the board was still deciding.
I’ve been checking the CDCR site religiously in case they posted it on their website before the letter hit my mailbox.
Every so often, I’d even search Lionel to ensure he was still in custody, just to give myself some fucking peace of mind while I waited for the board’s decision.
But, of fucking course, I haven’t looked him up for at least a week, too caught up in swim, classes, and Rev. He was released from custody, and I fucking missed it.
Then, Mark’s text from that night registers—when we played the dummy prank on Reverie. He said to let him know if I needed to talk.
Reverie stole my letter notifying me of the board’s decision the following morning.
Which means it had been in the pile of mail I picked up on my way home from practice that night, and I was too damn exhausted to sort through it at the time.
I’d slapped the stack on my nightstand and got ready for bed, all the while Rogue and Severen were hauling Reverie out to the flagpole.
Mark must’ve gotten the letter then, too. He knows me very well, and that I need to process shit on my own. So, he’s been checking in on me every so often, asking how I’m doing, but oblivious to the reasoning, I’ve been telling him I’m fine.
I brought Reverie to my room three fucking weeks ago.
Fuck, fuck, FUCK!
My fingers dive into my hair as I turn to pace alongside the pool.
It feels like an impenetrable wall surrounds my brain, no longer allowing my racing thoughts to enter. It’s isolated and eerily quiet.
Yet, I feel everything. The rage is so potent, it burns every cell in my body until nothing else remains.
It’s a wrath I haven’t felt since I stood in the police station at eight years old, waiting to be taken back for more questioning.
In the waiting room was a TV, and it was the first time I saw a news channel sympathizing with the D’Amours for what they believed to be false allegations against Lionel.
The poor little boy lost his mommy, so he blames an innocent man.
Lionel lived one town over from me in Silent Mist, working as a car salesman.
A week prior, my mom took her car into his dealership for a recall notice, and apparently, walked out with a date.
So, the following week, when my mom stopped by to see him before their date later that day, leaving me in the back seat, the public believed I had seen him then.
They’re convinced my little brain latched on to him because it needed someone—anyone—to blame.
But where I actually saw him was standing on my goddamn doorstep, a bouquet of daffodils in hand and a charming smile tipping up his thin lips.
I wasn’t supposed to be home that night, but at a friend’s house. I decided I didn’t want to go last minute, and Mom had to scramble to find a babysitter—my next-door neighbor, Cynthia. She was in the kitchen cooking mac ’n’ cheese for me when Lionel showed up to pick up my mother.
But what he didn’t know was that I lurked in the living room window, sitting on the couch in front of it.
It was next to the front door and allowed me the perfect view of Lionel.
I glared at him from beyond the curtains, furious Mom was going on a date with him.
My father had passed away from a car accident three years prior, and I couldn’t comprehend why she would want to be with anyone else.
I was pouting, and a moment before she left, she turned and blew a kiss my way.
I was supposed to pretend to catch it and kiss my fist, like we always did, but that time, I was so angry with her, I only glared in response.
Her smile faltered, sadness and hurt flashing across her blue eyes, and then, she was gone.