Page 70 of Hate Me

Jesus Christ. “If he comes for you, he won’t be alone. He’s not Cas, he doesn’t do his own dirty work, he’s not a combatant. His people will descend on you.”

“And because it’s so personal, he’ll still be there along with them. At which point, I’ll take the shot and end him before I suffer the same fate from his people. I have a strategy in place to hold them off long enough to accomplish that.”

I shifted my weight, my brow furrowing in contemplation. “Hold on. If that’s the plan, then… fuck, Skylar, this is a suicide mission, isn’t it? You don’t intend to survive this, do you?”

Her gaze didn’t even falter one bit as she told me steadily, “I’ll take him down with me. That’s the mission. Period.”

“Skylar—”

“Then, me taking out Jett won’t hurt Caspian, because Elijah will also be dealt with. If he’d given me a moment to explain that, there would’ve been no need for the chains, for bringing me back here and taking me captive, for any of it. But now you know, pass it on to him, so I can get back to it. I’m sure this place is locked down, and that’s the only reason he agreed to untie me, because he’s made this place into a prison.”

She went to brush past me to head on out of the bedroom, but I shot out my hand, grasping her arm. “There’s no way in hell we’re letting you die for this.”

She looked between me and my hand on her and I saw her eyes flash for a moment, her immediate reaction to dislodge my grip and likely kick my ass for touching her even remotely aggressively.

But she swallowed it down and spoke in a firm, warning tone, “Let go.”

“You’re talking about committing suicide, darling. There are other ways to do this. You don’t have to—”

“I want to!”

Her composure cracked, her voice a pained scream that jarred me down to the bedrock.

“What?”

She jerked her hand free, then shoved it through her hair. “When I was gone all these years, I had this fantasy in my mind at first of being able to come back to you, of a time that would come where I could step out of hiding and actually restart my life—with the three of you. But time went on by and Caspian still hadn’t brought down Elijah’s empire. After I found out Jett was still alive, that he hadn’t died and had instead been in a coma for a while, even what I’d accomplished there had gone to hell. I’d ended up with nothing at all, not even the comfort of the bastard who’d killed my mom and taken everything from me being gone. So, I embarked on this mission. When I woke up here in King Manor and then seeing Bastian, I let that fantasy take me for a little while. For a fucking moment in time, Caleb. But it proved to just be a fantasy and nothing rooted in reality, because I couldn’t connect with him properly at all, I couldn’t feel anything deep or real for him, except sexual desire. And afterward, I realized I didn’t even want to. Because all it would do is hurt—all of us. Every time I think I’m getting my life back, it’s ripped away from me. First at Vista Ridge, then here in Rossun two years ago. It’s a vicious circle for me. I don’t belong, Caleb. I don’t belong anywhere, with anyone. Last time, trying to make that happen ended up wrecking us all.” She sucked in an unsteady breath. “Once I take out Jett and draw Elijah out into the open, I’ll be at peace, and I can finally rest. So, you see, trying to help me and rewire my intentions is futile. There’s nothing to save, there’s nothing here for any of you.”

“No. This is because you’re caught up in all that dark. It’s skewing everything.”

“It’s not. This is reality. It’s what needs to happen and it’s what will happen.” She sucked in a breath, then asked me, “Now, am I allowed to step out onto the patio to get some fresh air, or is that against these prison rules of Caspian’s?”

“You can head out to the patio, but, yeah, there will be eyes on you.”

“Thanks. Now, am I allowed to cook, or is that off the table too? I’d ask you to, but you’re banned from that sort of thing as Bastian tells it.”

“You can cook yourself breakfast. It’s no problem.” With Security around. I just didn’t want her near anything that could be used as a weapon without close supervision. Not even a fucking spatula with her and the insane training we’d determined that she’d had over the last two years.

“Okay,” she said, taking off out of the room and turning down the corridor.

All I could do was watch her go.

Holy fucking shit.

Her revelations had put my plan to help her on hold.

I couldn’t help her like this.

She had no hope at all.

It was beyond depression. So far beyond it.

I felt sick with it, knowing she was in this state of mind and so determined to end her life like it was nothing to her.

No, worse than that, that it was an absolute curse to her.

Just like it had been to my sister.

Fuck.

---