Page 79 of Midnight Whispers

Even though I’m still pissed at Sid, I smile. “Good for them.”

A month ago, I thought I might follow in their same footsteps, but no longer.

It’s quiet again for a few minutes, during which time I question whether it’s even really worth it to still be pissed at Sid given what happened with Cinder. He was probably protecting me and had a better sense than I did of the person she was.

“Asher filled me in on what went down with Cinder.”

My hand clenches around my fork. “Don’t bother with the told-you-sos.”

Though I’ve moved on from my anger and into grief, I feel a little spark light in my veins, knowing Sid’s about to start his shit again.

He holds up his hands in front of him. “I’m not gonna say that. I’m going to say the opposite. I heard about what went down, and yeah, it’s shitty she lied to you. No doubt. But I saw you two together. She loved you, kid.”

My jaw clenches. “People who love you don’t lie to you.”

Sid knows why I’m so sensitive about people close to me lying. He was there when I found out the biggest lie of all, and it crushed me as a kid.

“Maybe. Or maybe they do when they think the truth won’t change anything, and all it will do is hurt you.”

Our gazes lock and hold. Somewhere in there, I think there’s an apology and an explanation for what he and my brothers did all those years ago.

“If you really think that I should just forgive Cinder and move on, then why did you say all that shit about her?”

He frowns and shrugs. “I don’t know. My head’s been a mess lately.” He pushes his chair back and stands. “Listen, all I’m saying is that no matter what happened, she loved you. That was obvious to anyone around you two. The question is, do you love her enough to get past this? Because no one is perfect, Nero. We all have our regrets, but just because someone isn’t perfect, it doesn’t mean they aren’t worth loving.”

My throat tightens as I watch him leave the room.

I want to forgive her, I do. The question is, can I?

I managed to stay away for a week, when I was still angry. But as the anger gave way to devastation, I found myself once again stalking her, needing to know her every move. Which is why I’ve been across the street and spying on Cinder through the large front window of her studio for hours.

I can’t fight the feeling of pride when I look at all she’s accomplished. It’s been clear to me the whole time how passionate she is about this endeavor, and to see it complete and ready to open makes me wish we were on better terms so that I could wrap my arms around her and tell her what a good job she’s done.

The lights inside the studio flip off. I watch her lock the door and start down the sidewalk toward her vehicle as my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and see that it’s a message from Asher telling me that he’s arranged for a celebratory dinner for Kol and Rapsody this Sunday evening, and he expects me to be there. I roll my eyes.

A sound from the road makes me look up.

My heart almost stops.

Cinder is being dragged into the alleyway between buildings as she struggles with whoever is covering her mouth.

Adrenaline fires in my veins, and I exit my car, pocketing my phone and running across the street toward them. Fear burns in my lungs and has my eyes wide as I reach the alley and see Cinder pushed against the side of the building, mouth still covered by some greasy guy’s hand as he hovers over her.

This motherfucker is going to wish he was never born.

I race toward them, and the sound of my feet hitting the concrete must alert them to my presence because they both turn in my direction. It’s then I recognize the assailant as Lisa’s shitty ex, Freddie.

“Get the fuck away from her!” I run toward them.

Freddie keeps one hand on Cinder but shifts to face me, pointing a gun in my direction.

“No!” Cinder screams. She yanks his arm, and the bullet hits the brick wall to my right.

“Fucking bitch,” he shouts and turns the gun on her.

“No!” I shout, running toward them.

The gunshot is deafening as I slam into him and tackle him to the ground. He grunts, and I scramble for the gun. I grab the hand holding the gun and slam it against the ground, then shove my arm down on his neck between his chin and sternum, pressing as hard as I can. He bucks, but I hold tight, continuing to slam his hand down on the pavement until it dislodges the gun. He’s passed out. Or maybe dead. I don’t care.

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