Chapter 42 Sloane #2
It was as if I were a backseat passenger to my own body.
I was able to hear and see, but unable to communicate with my thoughts.
The binaural mind control was able to replace my thoughts with new ones, ones suggested by Sabel and Sonus Corp.
Once the Eden Frequency was activated by Somnius, the control grew heavier.
It felt like I was standing in thick mud, unable to move a single limb.
I felt the new thoughts taking over all of my old ones, little by little.
The Eden Frequency activated something else, though. I also saw.
I saw everything. I was overcome with memories flashing through my mind that were not my own.
The memories were for Riven, of Riven. I saw flickers of him as a young boy, all dark black hair and bony, long limbs.
I saw his mother, and how kind she was to him.
I told him about seeing her, and he confirmed that she passed away several years ago due to cancer.
My heart breaks for him now, and for that little boy whom I saw in my mind.
I also saw his father, and the way he used to abuse Riven both physically and emotionally.
The look in Riven’s eyes when I told him that I knew was both haunting and exulting.
After that, the memories sped up, warped by time.
I saw him in college, studying for his master’s in psychology.
I saw him take the stage on graduation day as valedictorian.
It didn’t shock me. His mind is one of my favorite things about him, no matter how dark and depraved it might be.
I saw when he joined a garage band with the same guys I saw in the torture room today.
When I explained that part, he confirmed that they are all a part of Reverb with him.
He told me that Raithe is his little brother, explaining the similarities I noticed in their appearances.
He told me all about Malakai, who mostly goes by Kai, and apologized for having Callum pretend to work for a security company.
It was the next set of memories that I’ve yet to talk to him about.
The ones where I saw him murdering multiple people.
The ones where I saw him drop the same earpiece that I saw in my father’s case file folder that day in Alex’s office.
The ones where I saw him walk away from my father’s lifeless body.
I haven’t spoken of the ones where Riven saw me through his stage mask.
I could feel the constant war waging in his mind at wanting to tell me who he was, but not knowing if I would run once I knew.
It makes me sad, because I wouldn’t have.
I saw several of Riven’s memories, but the main thing that I saw was him.
Riven is so beautifully broken, so undeniably himself.
I should be running in the opposite direction, but our shadows call to one another in the darkness.
I crave the chaos he was forged in, the torment that clings to him like smoke.
I ache to unravel all of that deeply rooted darkness and intertwine it with my own.
I was partially wrong in saying that he didn’t save me.
He saved me from my father. He didn’t have to say the words for me to understand my father’s ultimate plans for me.
I’d heard whispers of my father during phone calls that were meant to be private.
I hid in dark corners while my mother begged him not to do it.
I knew it all along. I turned away from the truth, hoping that somehow I was wrong.
Hoping that maybe my father would change his mind when the time came.
But in my heart, I knew that my father was going to sell me to the highest bidder.
So, yes, Riven did save me as much as he saw me.
? ? ?
I run lazy circles over Riven’s sculpted chest, drinking up the smell of sage, mint, and citrus. I don’t know how in the hell I couldn’t match the scent to the one I smelled at my father’s crime scene that day months ago.
“You didn’t want to see the truth.” The angel has returned. She’s more smiley and less judgmental than she previously was. I nod, knowing how right she is.
“She saw the truth, but she compartmentalized it until she was ready to accept it,” the devil says, smirking from the opposite shoulder. I chuckle out loud.
“What’s so funny, darling?” Riven asks, brushing a hand carelessly down my arm.
“I was giggling at my internal monologue,” I say truthfully. He places a finger underneath my chin and lifts until our eyes meet. There’s a skeptical look on his face, and he has a singular eyebrow raised.
“What?” I ask. “You don’t have an inner monologue that narrates your life in real time?”
“I can’t say that I do. We’ll add that to the list of your adorable traits.” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Several beats of silence fill the living room, apart from the background noise of the TV that neither of us is watching.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” Riven orders. Always so bossy. I sigh, exhaling a long breath.
“We should—” I start.
“Talk,” Riven finishes.
I sit up as he does, both of us retreating to separate ends of the sofa.
Although the sofa isn’t large, it feels like miles separate us.
I curl my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms around them.
I’m not exactly ready for this conversation, but it’s inevitable.
We need to do this to be able to move forward.
Riven senses the energy shift and reaches a hand out, brushing his thumb over the top of my knee before leaning back into his end of the sofa.
“So you’re Vantros,” I state.
He nods. “Mhm.”
“And you’re the person who murdered Gideon,” I say, more to myself than to him. It’s as though voicing it out loud allows it to be captured into the universe to become fact versus fiction.
“Mhm.” He nods again, an inquisitive expression on his face.
“And you’re a vigilante killer like … Batman?” I ask, bracing myself for his response. I saw the people he murdered; they were all criminals.
He stiffens, flexing his jaw. “You … saw that. Sloane, I—”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain it. I understand why you did it,” I say.
He goes to speak, but then stops, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Sloane, that life isn’t mine anymore. I don’t need it anymore. Not now, not since … you.” His eyes flick to mine, and in them I see the truth of his words.
“I know, Riven. I know.” I reach for his arm, squeezing once before leaning back against the sofa again.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” I ask, changing the subject.
He’s silent for several minutes, as if searching for the right words.
“I was afraid that if you saw me, I mean, really saw me, that you would run.” He pauses.
“When you called asking the other me for an interview, I almost said no. I didn’t want to blur the lines and feel the need to lie to you.
Like I said before, when I locked eyes with you at that show, I knew that you weren’t another face in the crowd.
I fought it, though. I’ve never needed anyone, Sloane, and my soul was fucking screaming at me because it needed you.
That’s why I pulled you into that room. I wanted to scare you, but really, it was me who should have been afraid.
You were a reckoning, seeking to tear down every layer of defense I’d spent years building up.
And then you walked into that damn coffee shop and derailed all of my plans.
You demanded the room, all eyes on you.” I scrunch my nose in objection, thinking that he’s delusional if he thought I was that desirable.
He tuts. “What did I tell you about not seeing your worth, darling? That’ll cost you later.” He winks and then continues speaking like it never happened. Heat rises to my cheeks. “I saw the way you blushed at me across the table, fidgeting with your earring like you’re doing now.” He chuckles.
I drop my hand from my earring, unaware that I was doing it.
It suddenly makes me all too aware. I stare at my hands, embarrassment threatening to consume me.
His laughter stops, pulling my eyes from my lap to his face.
My gaze lands on his full lips, lingering for far too long before meeting his eyes.
There’s something wicked about the way he’s staring at me.
It dares to push me off the ledge, unaware that I’ve already agreed to fall.
“Darling,” he drawls. “You keep looking at me like that, and this conversation is going to have to wait.”
My breathing accelerates. I want him so badly.
I want to abandon this conversation and let him devour me with every unhinged, feral part of himself that he attempts to conceal.
Instead, I begrudgingly shake my head to object.
The rational part of my brain knows that if we don’t do this now, we may never get the chance.
We remain seated on opposite ends of the sofa, both knowing that if we’re any closer, we might light the damn thing on fire.
“Okay,” he starts, “I saw you that day, Sloane. You were determined, and strong, and so fucking beautiful. I knew I had to have you, that you’d be mine.
I wasn’t letting anything stand in my way, not even me.
That thing that happened in the forest was, well …
unplanned.” I choke back laughter, tossing my hand over my mouth to suffocate it.
“Sloane,” he warns, attempting to be all bossy. But his lips twitch like he also wants to laugh.
“What?” I scoff. “I felt like I was a huge slut after that, only to fall into the arms of the other you.” I face-palm. “God, why is this so funny?” I laugh, feeling giddy.
He genuinely smiles. It stops the laughter and the beat of my heart. What a beautiful sight.
“Anyways,” he starts, “once you found those photos in my dresser, I couldn’t keep seeing you as Van. Things were getting too messy.” My eyes widen in shock at his nonchalant revelation.