Page 22 of Lethal Truths

With a shaky breath, I throw off my blankets, only to find that I’m in my pajamas. Someone undressed me. I scoot off my bed and almost topple onto the floor in my haste to get to my backpack parked by the dresser. Digging through the front pocket until I feel my phone, I quickly dial Creed’s number and put the cell to my ear while my heart tries to break out of my chest.

“Hey, Ember,” his smooth, deep voice answers.

“Hey, hi, um,” I stammer out, my hands shaking and my mind splintering. “Can— Are you— I’m in my room. S-someone... Can you c-come over?”

“Whoa, baby, slow down,” Creed soothes. “I’ll be right there, alright? I’m ten minutes out. Someone is there now? Are you hurt?” he asks, not sounding any more calm than I am.

I whimper, gazing down at my bare arms for any sign of an attack. There’s nothing visible, and besides my headache, I don’t feel like I’ve been hurt, either. It’s as if the entire freaky thing never happened. Almost as if I hallucinated it…

“No, I’m okay,” I breathe out, forcing some strength into my voice. Squeezing my eyes shut, I say, “I’m fine, actually. Just… I don’t know, it’s been a weird day, I guess. I woke up from a bad dream and panicked, but I’m okay. Don’t drop whatever you’re doing to swing by.”

Creed hesitates, and in his silence, I catch the annoyed murmurings from a few other voices behind him. I glance at the alarm clock on my bedside table and frown. It’s only eight. I lost not even an hour of time. “Are you still in class?” I ask him, hoping to take my mind off of my stress.

His heavy sigh answers me first. “You think if I start snapping necks, the professor will finally dismiss us?”

I breathe out a startled, slightly disturbed laugh. “Yeah, I think that’d be pretty convincing. Either that, or he’d call the police,” I muse.

Creed hums as if he’s seriously weighing the pros and cons. “Better not risk it, then,” he jokes. “Are you sure you don’t need me? I’ll walk out of here with both middle fingers up if you’re still shaken.”

I smile despite the horror still coursing through my veins. “No, it’s okay. Sorry to bother you,” I tell him.

“You’re not a bother, baby,” he counters softly. “Call me if you change your mind, alright?”

I agree, and we say our goodbyes, Creed grumbling about getting back to class. Taking a slow inhale through my nose and letting it out through my mouth, I stand on shaky legs. Inspecting my room doesn’t tell me anything. Annie isn’t here, but I vaguely remember her telling me she was working on some sorority fundraiser planning committee tonight. Her side of the room is tidy, her bed made, and everything is in order. My side is a bit more cluttered, but a quick sweep with my eyes and I don’t think anything is out of place. The door is even locked, so how would someone have changed me into pjs and fled unless they went out the window?

Maybe I did imagine it all?

The possibility of that is nauseating. I grew up watching my mom battle her vivid delusions. It’s not something I ever want to go through first-hand.

Dazed and out of sorts, still on edge with residual panic, I decide to distract myself by getting ready for bed. I can sleep off this weirdness and forget all about it in the morning. I leave my room and head down the hall to the communal bathroom, where I go through my nighttime routine of flossing, brushing, and then washing my face. I take my time, lingering on each step because I’m not too eager to get back inside my bedroom. I have no clue what time Annie will be back, but until then, I’ll be alone and I’m not excited about that one bit.

Fifteen minutes later, I wander back to my room with my heart in my throat. I half expect someone to be waiting in there for me, ready to pounce the second I close the door. What the hell happened today? Is someone messing with me? Another ploy for The Celestials? Or am I losing my mind under the weight of everything going wrong in my life?

When I get to my room, there is, in fact, someone waiting for me. But instead of terror, anger unfurls within me until I’m sure the expression is obvious on my face. “Griffin,” I greet rigidly, crossing my arms over my chest.

The giant of a man is sitting on my bed, scrolling on his phone like he belongs here. His curly hair is tied back in a bun and the scruff on his jaw must have been recently trimmed. He gives a single nod in return and then focuses on his phone again.

I stand there in the middle of the room, fuming and caught off guard. His presence pulls my memories from the bathtub to the front of my mind, and I just know that my cheeks are beet red because of it.

“Did Creed send you?” I ask stiffly, shifting on my feet.

Griffin nods again, not even bothering to look me in the eyes.

“Okay, well…” I trail off, looking around my room. Waving my hand around the space, I say, “I’m fine. Nobody is here. You can tell Creed not to worry.” Griffin continues to ignore me, thumbs tapping away on his phone as if he doesn’t even hear me. As the seconds tick by, my irritation grows, until it’s something ugly and feral, and I’m trying hard not to lash out.

“You can leave,” I say dryly, again to no avail. I have to take a slow, steady breath to recenter myself. Except it doesn’t do shit because Griffin is still here, invading my space and ignoring me like it’s his fucking job. Stalking up to my bed, I snatch his phone out of his hands and clutch it in my fist. “What the hell was that last night?” I snap.

Arctic blue eyes slide up to my face, effectively cutting me open yet again. A muscle in his jaw twitches, but he makes no move to explain himself.

Frustrated, hurt, and feeling beyond exposed, my words tumble out of me. “I didn’t realize you were a fucking voyeur. I guess I should have assumed as much, though, right?” I pause with a bitter laugh, fighting my thrashing heart. “All silent and creepy. The perfect observer. Do you enjoy watching anyone fuck, or is it just me? Or maybe it’s Creed?” I tilt my head, studying his pensive expression. “Do you have a thing for your friend, Griffin? Is that why you—“

Before I can finish that statement, Griffin is off my bed and on his feet. His hand curls around my throat, his massive body backing me up until I hit the wall. His face is a mix of fury and hurt, and I have a split second of regret before I can shake it away.

“What’s wrong? Did I hit a nerve?” I ask, my voice strained from his tight hold.

Griffin’s lips curl up in a snarl. I’m well aware that I’m poking the bear, but at this point, I’m just too far gone to care. Even having Creed at my side, knowing that he cares about me and will do anything to keep me safe, it’s not enough to fill the void that Griffin’s betrayal left.

“Hurt me, then,” I continue. Between losing time earlier and Griffin’s presence reopening a wound that never had time to fully heal, I’m reckless and spiraling. I’m desperate for him to keep pushing, to do something more, something worse, that will extinguish the last of my feelings for him. “It’s your job, right? The Celestials gave an order, and you have to follow it like a trained bitch. What are you waiting for, Griffin? Hurt. Me.”

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