Chapter 41 Riven #2
“No … no.” Sloane shakes her head in disbelief.
Tears well up in her eyes and stream down her cheeks.
“Is it true? Did you kill him?” Sloane asks.
It’s nearly a whisper, as if she’s drained of all the energy it took for her to get to this point.
I don’t say anything, unsure how to tell her that I did.
I did murder your father, Sloane. I decide to go for it. What could go wrong?
“Yes,” I answer, not allowing my eyes to leave hers.
I need Sloane to see me for everything that I am.
She stops crying, stops shaking, and stares at me.
Her head tilts as she studies me. For the first time, her expression is unreadable.
I begin to wonder if the headphones are turned back on when she finally speaks.
“Why did you do it?” Sloane asks, never breaking eye contact.
I pause at the unexpected question, unsure of how to proceed. I decide on the truth, meaning what I said about needing her to see all of me.
“Your father wasn’t just a corrupt lawyer, Sloane; he was the worst of them.
He was paying off judges to make sure even the worst criminals got away with a ‘not guilty’ verdict.
He used those criminals to do his bidding around town, picking off people who got in his way.
” I pause, assessing Sloane. She doesn’t look like she wants to rip my face off, and she isn’t crying, so I continue.
She’s going to need that strength for what I’m about to say.
“He was running an underground trafficking operation, selling women to the rich and powerful men around town in exchange for their silence and cooperation. Sloane, your father was going to se—”
“Okay, that’s enough of story time,” Sabel says, cutting me off. My eyes shoot to Sabel’s, glaring at her. Sloane does the same.
“He was going to do what, Riven?” Sloane asks, a look of knowing on her face.
Gideon Keenan was going to sell his daughter to one of the rich scum bag elites of Hollowcrest, and the look on her face tells me that deep down she knows it.
I was never going to allow that to happen to her, ever.
I try to convey that to her without words, failing.
“Quiet!” Sabel’s voice echoes throughout the room. Sabel pulls a pocketknife out of her fucking bra and brings it to Sloane’s throat to ensure her silence. Sloane gasps, snapping her lips shut in submission.
“Do not fucking hurt her, Sabel. So help me, if you so much as draw another drop of blood, I will end your fucking life,” I growl, pressing up off my heels. The guards at my sides both step toward me, but I don’t falter.
“Riv, come on. You’re this caught up over her?
!” Sabel asks, waving the hand that’s holding the knife.
The use of my nickname on Sabel’s lips makes me want to dismember her alive and force-feed her to Dorian.
I can’t help the internal laughter. I should probably do some self-reflection on this cannibalistic fantasy thing that keeps happening when this is all over.
“Why are you smiling like a lunatic?” Sable asks, assessing me.
“Oh, nothing,” I say, imagining Dorian taking a big bite out of her dismembered thigh. The thought brings me joy.
“Whatever,” Sable says, waving a hand at me. She pockets the knife and pops out a hip, smiling.
“Now, Riven,” Sabel orders. It takes me a minute to catch up to what she’s asking of me. When realization sets in, I look at Sloane, desperately trying to convey to her that I have a plan. Before panic can consume Sloane, I speak the command.
“Somnius,” I say, eyes never leaving Sloane’s. I will bring Sloane back from this, even if I have to claw my way to the depths of hell and make a deal with Lucifer himself.
Realization strikes Sloane as her lips part on a sharp inhale.
She starts to speak, but it’s useless as the activation word renders her silent.
Her eyes widen for only a second before they close once, and then open.
Sloane stares at me, that glossed-over, half-present expression consuming her.
I glance up at Sabel to see her beaming with delight.
“Let’s test it, shall we?” Sabel asks. I don’t like the smug look on her face or the connotation in her tone.
“Sloane, would you be a dear for me and tell me who the man in front of you is, and what he means to you?” I glare at Sabel, eyes narrowed. What the fuck is she trying to prove? Sloane starts speaking, her voice detached and robotic.
“His name is Riven Reilly. He’s a professor and …
” Sloane pauses, tilting her head. Her eyes are on mine, but they appear vacant, devoid of life.
The usual vivid green is a dull color that makes my skin crawl.
She looks through me, as if I’m nothing more than a memory.
“And a vocalist for the band Reverb. His stage name is Vantros. I resisted him at first, sensing that he’d consume me if I let him.
Because he wasn’t the light in the room, or even the safe place.
He was something else entirely. He was the shadow in the darkness that recognized my own, dragging it out into the light.
He came into my life like a raging storm, ensuring destruction and chaos.
I saw it, and instead of running in the opposite direction, I welcomed it in. ”
Sloane stops talking, and a flicker of emotion flashes behind her eyes as she stares into mine.
It’s as though she’s battling with her mind for control.
Although I know the words she spoke are the truth, I still wish that she was saying them of her own volition.
I want to see her raw emotions, not this stoic statue that sits before me.
I’m internally berating myself for activating the Eden Frequency on her.
I don’t breathe for several seconds, still stunned by Sloane’s raw response.
She’s fucking perfect. I want to tell her how much her words mean to me.
I want to kiss her until her lips are swollen and tell her how proud I am of her for using them so well.
I want to reward my little nightmare with multiple orgasms until she’s screaming my name.
The thoughts distract me momentarily, transporting me to another time and place.
Sabel’s voice pulls me from that marvelous place deep inside my mind. The place reserved only for Sloane.
“How very poetic, Sloane. Thank you. Would you say that Riven saved you, then?” Who does Sabel think she is, a fucking therapist? Stop hounding her and get on with it. I grind my molars.
Sloane stares into my very soul with a war waging behind her eyes, speaking softly. “Riven didn’t save me. He saw me.”
I remain still as I process Sloane’s words.
The world around me goes silent, and it’s the kind of silence that’s more of a calm quiet.
It’s as if I’m underwater and only Sloane is floating in front of me.
My hands tremble, wanting so badly to reach for her.
But I know that if I do, I might not be able to save her.
I find myself almost in disbelief. What if this isn’t Sloane at all, but rather a product of the Eden Frequency?
How can I be sure that this isn’t some illusion created by Sabel to torment me?
There’s a fraction of my heart that believes that it’s real, but I know all too well that belief can be a tricky thing.
Belief can be dangerous. Belief can be deadly.
I need to free Sloane’s mind of this persuasion so that I can restrain her on my terms and make her say the words to only me.
I search Sloane’s face, sure that I see a flicker of emotion beyond that of the impassive woman sitting before me.
My girl is fighting for her control, and my plan might work after all.
“Sloane, darling,” I say, keeping my voice calm and melodic. Sloane tilts her head and narrows her gaze. Her palms, which were resting on her thighs, are now gripping tightly into fists. I’m getting through to her; I just have to keep pushing.
“As much as I am enjoying this little display of … whatever this is, I’d like to get things moving,” Sabel interrupts, disgust layered in her tone. Sabel kneels in front of Sloane again, meeting her at eye level.
“Sloane.” Sloane moves her head slowly until her eyes meet Sabel’s.
“Listen to me very carefully. I want you to forget everything that you know about Riven Reilly.” Sabel pauses, and I don’t hear anything else over the screaming inside of my head.
Is this possible? Can Sabel erase me from Sloane’s fucking mind?
The screaming inside my head must actually be outside of it, because the guards are on me in an instant.
They press me firmly into the ground and onto my stomach.
One of them grabs my wrists and pins them behind my back, binding them with cuffs.
I feel my strength finally fucking returning as I buck the guard off of me.
He flies backward, hitting his ass on the ground.
I jump to my feet only to be ambushed by the other guard.
This one fires his gun, but obviously doesn’t expect the kickback, and he misses.
Luckily for me, he’s a fucking moron. I back up a step, ready to charge the stocky motherfucker.
Then, I feel something sharp stab into my left ass cheek. Fuck, not again.
The guard that I threw off me must have injected me with something, because my limbs became heavy.
I stumble, falling to my knees and then flat on my face.
I try to move, but all I can do is lie there.
My view of the room changes as one of the guards flings me around until my cheek is laying flat against the cement floor, and I’m staring right at Sloane and Sabel.
This is hell. I’m officially in my own personal hell.
I see Sabel’s stilettos coming toward my face. She stoops down, tilting her head to look at me.