Page 108 of Skin Deep

But it was all a lie. There were no cameras, no shadow government, no coded messages in the newspaper. That was just another delusion, even if it felt real. I knew it was false, and I knew it was true at the same time, which only made the tightness in my chest worse.

My heart sped up and I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, afraid to move, afraid to stay still. People were coming for me. They were coming and they were going to kill me. I needed to get out. To run. To—

“Look at me.” Boone’s voice cut through the myriad of voices crowding my mind. His hands were on me, holding my face, thumbs cool against my cheeks. “You’re safe here, Pup. Nobody’s coming to get you. And if anybody tried, they’d have to go through me first.”

I wasn’t safe; not there or anywhere, but I knew Boone was right. He wouldn’t let anyone take me. If anyone could protect me, it’d be Boone.

The acrid smell of cigarette smoke was strong in my nose, grounding me temporarily. I wanted more of it, wanted it inside me. Boone and that cigarette were the only things I could be sure were real.

As if he could somehow read my mind, Boone plucked the cigarette from between his lips and offered it to me.

Despite the voice whispering it was poison, I took it and put the cigarette to my lips. The first inhale of deadly smoke was heaven. My insides melted, letting my shoulders relax.

“Better?” Boone asked, drawing a thumb over my cheek.

Eyes closed, I nodded. His hand retreated and the door latched shut behind me.

We’re trapped. We have to leave. Now. Leave!

Before panic could overtake me, Trixie and Morticia were there, nipping at my fingers, guiding me toward Boone’s favorite chair. The smoke was in my lungs, burning the raw skin of my nose.

I plopped down in Boone’s chair. “What’s for dinner?”

“You missed it.” He gestured for me to get up, but I didn’t move.

“My foot hurts,” I said.

“That’s your own damn fault.”

Morticia trotted over and hopped into my lap like she was half the size she was. Curling into a tight ball, she looked up at Boone as if she were challenging him. He might’ve kicked me out of his chair, but he didn’t have the heart to kick his dog out.

Boone rolled his eyes and walked over to kick the lever down. The chair reclined and my legs popped up on the leg rest. Trixie slinked under the leg rest to sleep.

Boone banged around in the kitchen for a little while before coming back with a glass of amber liquid and a paper plate containing a bologna sandwich. “Here.” He grunted and shoved the sandwich at me.

I took it because I was hungry.

He plopped onto the worn sofa next to the recliner, drink in hand and turned on the TV, immediately switching it over to one his classic movies channels to watchDirty Harryfor the millionth time. I didn’t mind. The way Eastwood delivered his one liners was growing on me.

“Don’t fall asleep in my chair,” Boone said, lighting a cigarette.

I grunted in response and puffed on the cigarette, turning my attention to Morticia and scratching behind her ears. She was a good dog, even if she did run me down every time I tried to get away. There was a part of me that would miss this if I ever succeeded in one of my escape attempts. It was stupid, but I liked knowing that if I ran, someone cared enough to chase me down. No one else had cared that much about me in a long time. Even my brothers were practically strangers now.

When Shepherd broke me out of that psych hospital, I thought about trying to talk to them, but what would be the point? They’d made their intentions clear. Xavier had come to see me a few times while I was locked up, but Xander… He’d kept his distance. I couldn’t blame him, though. After what I’d done, I wouldn’t want to see me either.

When I realized I’d be forever cut off from my brothers, I turned my attention to the second most important thing on my list: finding the people who’d taken advantage of me while I was at my lowest. Finding them, killing them… Thoughts of it consumed me. I knew it wasn’t healthy, but neither was smoking.

On a long enough linear scale, life was always one hundred percent deadly, so I figured I should live while I was alive.

Boone sighed and muted the TV.

Here we go, I thought.Another lecture.

“What’ll it take to get you to stop running?” he asked.

“Blow me,” I spat.

He removed his hat and scrubbed his hands over his coppery ponytail. “Believe me, kid, if I thought it’d work, I’d fucking try it.”

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