Chapter 13
Ryven
Lying on the bed, I plant my elbows and look at Rory’s face. I gaze into her eyes and trail my fingertip along her chin. Her lips beg for another kiss.
I need to just tell her how I feel. I almost do. The words sit right there, and yet I choke on them. I always do. She has to know. But I haven’t said “I love you” since Joey died.
We’re different people now. I’m not even sure she remembers who I used to be. I barely know who I used to be.
She raises her brow. “Don’t you fucking dare, Ryven.” She hits my chest, and I roll off her.
I watch from my side, resting my head on my elbow as she scurries around her room for her clothes. “What don’t you want me to do?” I ask.
She scoffs. “Don’t make this emotional. It’s messy enough already.”
“How the hell do you know I was about to bring any feelings into this?”
She stops mid–pulling up her shorts and stares at me. “Just because we are no longer together, Ryven, doesn’t mean I don’t fucking know you. That look? I know it. And I don’t have space for that shit anymore.”
She waves me off. I should feel the pain of rejection, but there’s no use. We both know her words are hollow. They always have been. At least… I tell myself they are.
“What is wrong with you today, anyway? First, you show up at my door at seven in the morning unannounced, and then you make love to me. Are you okay?” She says it like she doesn’t care, but she asked, and that has to mean something.
She sits on the end of the bed and tries everything in her power not to look at my exposed crotch. I put her out of her misery, dragging the sheet over my waist. “I just had a long night, is all.”
She shakes her head. “Cut that fucking crap. Either tell me what is wrong, or get the hell out of my house. I have shit to do today.”
I sigh and lie on my back, staring at her ceiling.
“It was another sacrifice, wasn’t it?” she whispers, seemingly lost in thought.
I hesitate for a second. “Yep.” I clear my throat. “Yeah.”
“Did they at least fucking deserve it?” she seethes.
“Yeah. This one did.” This time.
“So why do you look like hell if you’re not guilty?”
Guilt? Is that what I’m feeling right now? I don’t fucking feel guilty for killing a woman who takes advantage of little boys. No. I don’t feel guilty. “It’s not that at all.”
She tosses a pillow at me, and it hits me directly in the face. I hiss at her.
“Tell me what has you all worked up, Ryven, or get the fuck out. I’m not your emotional support animal.”
I chuckle. “I’m not into bestiality, sweetheart. If you were, you would be safe from my cock.” I make a show of grabbing myself.
She rolls her eyes. “Spill it already. I’m serious.”
I groan. “Fine.” I sit up and rest my back against her headboard. “I just don’t understand the point of anything right now, Ro. The rituals. The sacrifices. The fear.”
“What the hell’s the point of any of this?”
I’ve always questioned it, but lately it won’t stop. Am I actually good enough to succeed in taking the cult out from the inside? Has everything I have been through been worth it? I question myself more and more every day, and I don’t know how to handle that.
I don’t usually spill these types of feelings to Rory because she wouldn’t understand. She sees a monster. Maybe she’s right—but I’m hers. Always have been. Maybe if I let her inside my head more often, her thoughts about me would change.
She shrugs. “You’re the one working for the cult and their council. Shouldn’t you be the one to answer that question?”
I rest my head against the board. “You would think so. But when you spend your life trying to avenge someone you once loved and lose everything you once held dear, it’s hard to remember what you’re actually fighting for.”
“You are one to talk about revenge and someone you love.” I feel the bed rise as she stands. “You don’t get to say that. You can fucking leave now.” Her hands ball into fists at her sides.
I open my eyes to fix her with my gaze, but I don’t move.
“I’m serious, Ry. Get the fuck out of my house.” She stomps to the door and yanks it open.
I swing the sheet off my body and begin pulling on my pants. “You always know everything, huh, Ro?” I mutter. I spill my heart, and she shoves it right back down my throat. I don’t know how to win with her. I’m not even sure there is a way to. I just want her to understand.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I look up from being bent over and shrug. “What’s the point in talking? You don’t believe me anyway.” I slip on my boots and walk toward her. When I step through her door, she grabs me by the back of my shirt.
“Tell me what that’s supposed to mean.” Her tone is less aggressive now.
All of my fight has left me. I’m tired of fighting the same thing with her at every turn. When is she going to see that I’m not this terrible person?
I let out a long sigh. Then I step toward her slowly, like she might pull away if I move too fast, and draw her in for a hug.
“Sweet, Ro. You have to hate someone for your brother’s death, and I understand that.
Hell, I hate myself some days. That’s why I let you.
Because it’s easier on you. It helps you move on from the terrible past we share.
But you don’t know what truly happened.” I cup her cheek and force her to look at me.
“One day, Ro… you’ll see. I loved your brother like he was mine.
And I still—” My voice catches. “I still love you.”
My voice breaks. “And I never stopped.”
I press my lips to her forehead, turn, and leave her house.
There is no point in explaining more. She will either understand, or she won’t.
And for the first time… it feels like I’ve already lost her.