Page 28 of Fatal Vengeance

I fell asleep in Creed’s arms on the couch, with Genevieve sitting on my other side. None of us really spoke, I think because they were respecting my catatonic state that I’d slipped into. I appreciated it while simultaneously felt entirely uncomfortable about it. I wanted to reassure everyone’s concerned looks, tell them that I would get through yet another loss, but I just… couldn’t. I couldn’t form the words.

Maybe I’m not alright. Maybe I never will be again.

When I wake up hours later, tucked into the bed in the guest bedroom with Griffin close but not quite touching me, I feel like I can’t breathe. Creed is on the far side of the bed, probably worried about triggering me, so neither of my guys are crowding me or touching me.

I’m coming out of a brutal, bloody nightmare, but I can’t remember the details now that I’m awake. I’m coated in a cold sweat, trembling, my throat tight like an invisible hand is locked around it.

Neither of them wake from my heavy breathing, which is a relief. I don’t want to be coddled right now. My friend is dead, and it’s my fault. My mom is gone, and it's my fault. All of this is my fault. Running, hiding, putting Genevieve’s cabin on their radar.

It’s all my fucking fault.

I don’t deserve to be taken care of with Griffin’s tender touch or Creed’s possessively sweet words. I just want to feel this pain alone and let it wreck me.

I slip out of the bed as quietly as I can, and the second my feet hit the ground, I dart out of the room, across the hall, and into the bathroom. It’s pitch black outside, not even the moon shining in through the bathroom window. I vaguely remember Creed trying to rouse me with the promise of food at some point, but I didn’t eat. I don’t think I’ll be able to stomach any food for a while. Not while the memory of Annie’s head is still so fresh in my mind.

Shuddering, I turn the water on in the shower and then strip and climb in without waiting for it to heat up. The icy blast on my skin takes my breath away, but I relish in the moment and the clarity it brings me. I don’t deserve a comfortable, warm shower. Not right now. Not when I bring trouble and death to everyone around me.

I should go back to Blackwood and hand myself in.

Fear prickles along my spine at that thought, but no matter how scared I am, I know it’s the only way to guarantee everyone else’s safety. I could barter myself in exchange for The Celestials leaving Creed, Griffin, and Asher alone. Genevieve too, now that they know where her cabin is. In running to my sister, I’ve only managed to throw her into the danger she had avoided her entire life.

Now that they know she’s harboring me and the guys, will they strike? Will I find her dismembered body parts next?

My stomach sours, but with no food in me, there’s nothing to purge. I just have to sit with these overwhelming feelings with no way of ridding them. With weak knees, I slide down the shower wall, the tiles cold and biting along my back, until my ass plops down on the chilly floor while the lukewarm water cascades over me from above.

I tuck my knees up to my chest and cry. I cry for my mom. For Annie. For myself. I cry for the guys and my sister, whose lives are essentially in my hands now and one wrong move on my part could snuff them all out.

I cry for the girl I wish I could be and for the girl I had no choice in becoming.

Time slips by while I fall apart on the shower floor, mourning and fearful, angry and itching to do something to right this mess. I make up my mind, in the midst of my breakdown, to find a chance to slip away and go back to The Celestials. They guys will grieve, but they’ll eventually move on. And they’ll have the time to find someone better, because they’ll all be alive. If that’s the only thing I can do for them to show my love, then it has to be good enough.

They’ll understand my sacrifice one day, even if they don’t like it.

Maybe an hour later, once my skin is wrinkled from the water, and my eyes are swollen and stinging from my tears, the bathroom door swings open. I tense, panic clawing at me. I don’t want anyone seeing me like this, while I’m so weak and messy.

Asher walks in, closing the door behind him gently. He looks at the shower, his gaze dropping to me on the floor a second later, and then he’s striding forward with a deep frown marring his gorgeous face. I don’t say a word and neither does he. He just opens the shower door, steps in fully clothed, and sinks to the floor beside me. He doesn’t try to wrangle me into his lap the way Creed would. Nor does he speak to me in a caring, gentle voice, like Griffin would. And I’m thankful for it. I don't want those things right now. Asher simply sits next to me, close enough that our thighs touch, while his jade eyes sweep over my face and down my shivering body.

After a few silent moments, I can’t take the intensity I find in his gaze anymore, so I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall. “I can’t handle a verbal battle right now, Asher. I know you're upset I don't want to run again, and I get it, but I refuse to keep cowering and uprooting everyone over and over again,” I croak out, my voice rough and raw. “We can make plans tomorrow, okay? I just want to drown in here for now.”

Asher sighs, shifting until he can wrap an arm around my shoulders, drawing me into his side a bit. His fingers draw delicate patterns on my arm while he says, “No more battles, Prudence. I promise. Just let me sit in silence and drown with you.”

I nod, fighting off a fresh wave of tears. I lose that fight, the first one slipping down my cheek, and then I bury my face in the crook of his neck and cry some more.

Asher doesn’t poke fun at me or tell me to knock it off and be strong. He doesn’t laugh or snort or try to push me away. He just holds me and leans his cheek on top of my head while I fall apart.

It occurs to me that I’m very much naked with all my ugly scars on display, but it doesn’t leave me feeling exposed and vulnerable. The fact that Asher hasn’t even commented on the state he found me in or asked about the marks all over my skin allows me to relax.

Eventually, once I’ve pulled myself together a bit, Asher says, “I couldn’t sleep. I heard the shower turn on, but when an hour passed, I got worried.”

I sniffle and shrug, still leaving my head on his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not, but that’s okay. We’ll just be broken together. Tomorrow, we can put our brave masks back on.”

“I don’t know if I can,” I mutter like a depressed little fuck.

Asher kisses my head, whispering, “Then I’ll help you do it. I’ll remind you how fucking strong you are.”

I don’t say anything in return. Not because I don’t believe him, but because I do. I am strong. I’ve survived shit that would destroy some people. I’ve hurt and bled and cried and somehow kept pushing. And now I’m going to give up my life to protect the few people left in it who matter. If that’s not strong, I don’t know what is.

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