Page 41 of Lethal Truths

That’s what Asher told me to do. Before I kissed him because I apparently lost my goddamn mind. Although, truthfully, I’m glad I finally pushed myself to do it. The moment our lips met, I felt my Asher break through the surface. The sharp-tongued, bullying asshole who’d been getting worse for months was pushed out of the way for a brief moment, and my friend was back. Don’t ask me how I know that because I can’t even explain it.

I just hope it lasts. And I hope, this time around, we don’t fall back into being only friends.

But that’s a worry for another time. Right now, I’m damn near pulling my hair out as I go over what I want to say to Prudence. Thinking about it and actually doing it are two different things, though.

I messed up. Bad. If I could go back in time, do things differently, I’d have found a private moment with Prudence and told her outright about the threat from my parents. We could have planned something, staged a scene in public that would have gotten back to my parents and pleased them. Prudence would have happily obliged because she trusted me. Because we were friends.

I didn’t have to hurt her. I was just terrified of losing her, and I thought, in my panicked, stupid brain, that pushing her away would buy us some time. She could hate me all she wanted, as long as my parents didn’t make good on their demented promises. I’ve never regretted anything more in my entire fucking life.

So how do I explain that to her? How do I convince her that every word that night, every despicable action, was an act? How do I talk to her when I can’t stand the look of betrayal in her hazel eyes?

Tipping my head back with a silent groan, I close my eyes and go over my plan for what must be the tenth time. As nervous as I am, I won’t back down. We could have lost her… I could have lost her. Then I never would have even gotten the chance to earn her forgiveness. Now that she’s back, just down the hall, recovering in Creed’s room, I won’t waste any more time. I’ve given her a whole twenty-four hours to settle, and now I need to speak with her before my thoughts implode.

Taking a deep breath, I exit my room and turn left for Creed’s. Every step feels like a noose tightening more and more around my neck. I rub the scar there absentmindedly, trying to ease the lump in my throat so I don’t make a complete ass of myself. I’m ready. I can have a conversation. It’s not going to kill me.

Except when I get to Creed’s open door and find nobody inside, my shoulders deflate. Maybe they’re downstairs getting something to eat? I spin on my heels, trying to decide if I wait for her to get back up here or if I go down and find her now. The longer I wait, the less brave I’ll be.

Nodding to myself, I head for the stairs at the opposite end of the hall, planning on finding my little flame and begging her to hear me out. But when Creed strolls up and meets me at the foot of the hall, his arms full of water bottles and his hands carrying two plates with sandwiches, dread sinks in my gut.

Where is she? I ask him, trying to tamp down my sudden panic. I’m sure she’s trailing right along behind him, right?

Creed frowns at me, blinking like I’m dense. “In my room,” he replies. “Right?” he adds, peering past me and into his wide open bedroom at the other end of the hall. “Right, Griffin?” Creed grinds out, his voice like a deadly shadow even as the color drains from his face.

I shake my head, backing up while my mind trips over possibilities. She could be with Asher. Or in the bathroom. But what if they somehow got to her? I’m going to pass out, holy shit. The hallway swirls and spins around me, black spots fading in and out of my vision.

The Celestials are formidable, and we’ve gone and pissed them off. Could they have really gotten into the house, snuck upstairs, and taken Prudence without any of us realizing?

The sound of glass shattering on the floor sends me deeper into panic until I’m teetering on the very edge of a full-blown attack. It’s been a while, but the tight grip of terror is familiar all the same. A hand lands on my shoulder a moment later, making me jump, my muscles locking up.

“Griffin!” someone barks, the hand on my shoulder gripping firmly but not painfully. “Breathe, man. Jesus Christ.” It takes a moment, but I recognize the voice as Creed’s and that helps pull me back from the brink.

I’d be embarrassed about getting triggered so damn easily, except I’m sure he understands. None of us have slept well in days, not since Prudence was taken. Pair my exhaustion with sudden relief at having her back, and then the fact that she’s not where she’s supposed to be this very second, and my mind splintered apart.

I’m still trembling with a rush of panic, but I beg myself to hold it together. We just have to find her and then I’ll be fine, I tell myself. I’m sure she’s alright, and I’ll laugh later about overreacting.

Asher rips open his bedroom door, presumably because he heard Creed snapping at me. He looks from me to his cousin, and down at the floor where Creed dropped the plates he was holding when he came to me. A second later, he’s right by my side. He shoulders Creed out of the way and grabs my face roughly, forcing me to meet his concerned gaze.

“What’s going on? Are you alright?” Asher rumbles, though I can’t tell if he’s speaking to me or Creed. I’m sure both of us look a mess.

I swallow past my wild emotions, trying to shake my head, but Asher’s fingers on my jaw don’t allow me to move much at all.

“Is Prudence in your room?” Creed asks rather than answering Asher. His voice is strained, like he, too, is barely holding himself together. I saw him come back the other day, covered in blood. He said Mark was dead and then disappeared into the bathroom to wash the evidence away. It wasn’t a shock, considering his intense attachment to Prudence, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to hear about Mark. But if we don’t find Prudence in the next five minutes, I’ll be fully expecting Creed to go on another slaughtering spree.

Asher frowns at Creed, releasing me and taking a meager step backward. “You don’t hear her screaming at me, do you?” he says dryly. “I’d have to restrain her to keep her in there.”

Creed rolls his eyes, gripping his messy black hair. He pushes past us and heads to his bedroom, muttering, “Maybe you just missed her, Griff. She’s in there.” But even as he says those words, I know he doesn’t believe them.

Asher rolls his head, cracking his neck as he watches his cousin. Even though Creed is holding out hope, I’m not. Instead, I move around Asher and toward the only closed door in the hallway; the bathroom.

She’s fine. She’s just behind this door, probably fuming at the idiocy of the three of us. Maybe she needed a moment to herself after everything she’s gone through. Maybe Creed was suffocating her.

I hold on tight to those thoughts as I test the handle. When it turns with ease, I don’t know if I should be worried or relieved. Would Prudence leave it unlocked if she were using the restroom? As the door swings open on silent hinges, the first thing I see is the overflowing bathtub. The faucet is still running, and water is spilling over the edge and flooding the tiled floor.

I take a cautious step forward, a sense of urgency and foreboding at war in my stomach. Another step. One more. I can’t see into the bathtub yet, and suddenly, I don’t want to. Footsteps sound behind me, either Asher or Creed following me inside, but I don’t tear my eyes away from the white, shiny porcelain tub ahead of me.

I force myself to close the distance. The second I see red hair beneath the surface, I break out in a sickeningly cold sweat. I suck in a sharp, broken breath as I rush to the edge, staring into the steaming water and finding her still body.

“No!”

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