3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
ADRIANA brITTON
I wasn’t sleeping when Micah went outside. But I heard in his breathing that something inside him was about to burst, and he was trying to keep it quiet. I stay still at first, staring up at the ceiling, listening for the sound of more footsteps, but there is none.
I sit up slowly, the blanket slipping from my shoulders as my gaze drifts toward the sliding glass door.
Beyond it, there’s snow falling. And Micah isn’t on the porch.
I drag my eyes away, letting them move across the living room, kitchen, and dining table.
There’s a fireplace to my right. I don’t know who owns this house or why we’re even here.
The only people I know inside it are Jude and Micah.
And Jude…
My chest hurts as I try to will the thought away. But the truth is already there.
They saved him too late.
My fingers curl into the couch as the memory of that fucking metal door forces its way into my head. I never saw everything that happened behind it, but I didn’t need to. I heard more than enough. The sounds alone were enough to make me want to vomit. And when he came back out that last time…
He wasn’t the same.
Whatever was left of his shredded soul had finally been ripped from his body. I could see it in his eyes. There was nothing behind them. No recognition. No warmth. No…Jude.
I swallow hard, my stomach turning. I couldn’t sleep next to him after that. I tried the first night. I told myself I was overreacting, that he was just exhausted and drugged. But the way he looked at me in the dark, with pupils dilated like a predator…
I shake my head, pushing the memory away.
It almost looked as if he wanted to kill me.
So I moved to the couch in the guesthouse the next night.
I fucking hate myself for leaving him alone and being afraid when he likely needed me most. But he was horrifying.
His eyes were like in those horror movies where it’s obvious someone has been possessed.
And he did almost force himself upon me before he snapped out of it at the last minute that one time.
The thing I've learned about Jude is that his moral backbone is still strong. It's held on for so fucking long, and I hope that it's still in there somewhere. It has to be.
I push myself off the couch so I stop thinking, my legs slow to cooperate as I move toward the sliding door.
My hand hesitates on the handle for half a second before I tug it open.
Cold air rushes up my nostrils immediately as I step outside.
And the first thing I hear isn’t the river like I did earlier. It’s Micah.
And he’s crying.
The sound stops me where I stand, my arms instinctively wrapping around myself. The cold sinks through my clothes, but I barely feel it. My focus locks on him instead. He’s out near the trees, braced against one of them. The sound of his sobs makes my chest hurt like fuck.
I watch him for a while, my heart breaking for everything I’ve done that led us into this shit. I attached myself to Jude for all of these years, because at first, it was my job. But Micah has always been a good man, too.
He turns around and sees me, immediately going rigid. I can tell that he’s trying to put himself back together. Something I’ve done a lot the past few months. Hell, years.
He starts toward me, and every step closer makes me feel even more uneasy.
But just as he stops in front of me, he shakes his head once before I can say anything.
He doesn’t want to talk, but I need to. The words are already there, crawling up the back of my throat, desperate to get out.
I need to tell him what happened, what I saw, and that I’m terrified that whatever they did to Jude didn’t just break him.
It erased him.
But he’s already brushing past me without another glance. I turn my head, watching as he disappears into the house, the door sliding shut behind him. For a long moment, I just stand alone in the cold. Snow drifts down around me, quiet and peaceful, settling into my hair and clothes.
We survived so much to get here, and I know that we have so much further to go. Alexei still has everything on Jude. But maybe I can help them. Maybe I can finally begin to right all of the wrongs I’ve made since I fell into Nolan’s trap at fifteen.
It fucking sucks knowing that we’ve gone through hell and back together...and that one of us definitely didn’t come back the same. And I can’t shake the feeling that this doesn’t end with all of us walking away.
I don’t know how long I stand there before the cold finally starts to numb my fingers. I exhale slowly and turn back toward the house. The porch creaks quietly under my weight when I step up, my hand brushing along the railing, centering myself before I reach for the handle and slide the door open.
Warmth rushes over me again as I close and lock the door.
For a second, I just stand there, staring into the dark living room.
It’s weird being somewhere other than that fucking guesthouse.
My gaze drifts to the couch where my pillow and blanket are waiting for me to return.
But I don’t go back to it yet. Instead, I pass the kitchen, the table, and the fireplace.
My muscles suddenly tighten as an image crashes into me.
That metal fucking door.
My steps falter before I can remind myself that I’m not there.
I don’t even realize where I’m heading until I’m halfway down the hall, my body moving on instinct more than thought.
But before I can open the door and descend the stairs to the basement, I freeze.
Dread crawls through my chest, remembering the times I’ve heard him scream in pain.
It didn’t sound like Jude towards the end.
It feels like something is still happening on the other side of that door. The wood glitches into metal, then back again. I shake my head.
Calm down, Adriana. You’re safe here.
My fingers curl at my sides as the memories flash behind my eyes.
There was a time when his voice sounded different.
Lighter. Like when he finished that show in Phoenix, all smiles, laughs, and excited energy.
He was so happy that he hugged me, kissed me, and cheered with his bandmates.
He was more alive than most times I’d seen him.
Of course, that was before he was injecting.
A vicious ache clamps over my throat. I miss that version of him.
It’s the version I helped destroy.
I suck in a breath in an attempt to force it away.
I don’t want to remember how he touched me that night, how I thought his kisses actually meant something.
I once believed we had a real relationship, before Nolan forced him into hurting people.
And before he started shooting up. After that, he began to wither.
The man downstairs…
My eyes flick to the door again. A shiver runs through me, and I take a step back without thinking, putting distance between myself and the door like that might help separate the past from the present.
It doesn’t.
I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen, but I don’t think I’m going to come out alive. I accepted my inevitable death a long time ago, I think. Even if we somehow escape this shit…my demons are demanding my soul.
I turn away before I can linger any longer, my pace picking up as I move back toward the main part of the house. I can’t do this. I can’t go down there right now.
I pass the living room without stopping, heading toward the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. When I reach the top of the stairs, I hesitate.
I remember seeing which door Emma walked into earlier, followed by her blonde friend.
I can’t remember her name, but she almost punched me.
I couldn’t take hearing Emma’s cries, knowing what I’ve done.
He loves her so much. Well...loved. I’m not so sure about that anymore.
He’s going to look at her the same way he looked at me the past few days. With dead eyes, devoid of any kind of light that once existed.
I move toward the door slowly, my steps quiet as to not wake anyone. When I reach it, I pause for a second before pushing it open just enough to look inside.
She’s asleep.
Curled slightly on her side, her face turned into the pillow. I bite my bottom lip, fighting the sudden urge to cry. That girl has no idea what she’s about to walk into. No idea what he is right now. My gaze lingers on her for a moment longer, taking in the way she looks…peaceful.
What happens when she sees him?
A cold, sinking feeling spreads through me, deeper than anything the frigid Russian winter air could touch.
I admit, part of me feels a devastating kind of jealousy as I look at her.
But at the same time, I’m grateful. Because she kept him alive when no one else could.
Not even me. Even if it was just the memory of her.
I step back quietly, pulling the door closed just as gently as I opened it.
And as I stand there for a second, staring at nothing, I honestly believe that whatever happens next is going to destroy her.
Because, although I don’t know exactly what Alexei did to Jude that last time.
..I know it was enough to leave nothing of him behind.