Page 136 of Loving the Liar

“Els…” he hesitates, his gaze darting toward the door. “You know I don’t care about defending Murray, but I promise you, he did this because you would have been punished either way. Better from someone you trust.”

“I don’t trust him,” I hiss. “I don’t trust any of you anymore!”

“Stop shouting,” he growls.

“Where can I find the Heras?”

“What could you possibly want to find them for? You’re not even allowed to roam the temple without a Shadow by your side. Go home and stop getting yourself in trouble.”

“I’m going to get the truth out of Megan.”

“That woman is the last person you should listen to.”

“Where can I find the Heras, Achilles?”

“Come on, Els. You were in enough trouble?—”

“Where.” My nostrils flare as I look up at him, and whatever he sees on my face has him talking.

He huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Third floor. It’s a room called the knitting room. Blue doors with peacocks engraved in the wood.”

I nod, skipping the thank you. I’m too angry.

I climb the stairs two at a time, and the second I enter the knitting room—because I’m assuming that’s what women used to do in here while waiting for their cheating husbands—about five heads turn to me.

Why do they come here? Why would anyone want to come to a place where they know their partner is somewhere else having sex with another woman at best and abusing her at worst.

“What the hell are you doing here?” some random blonde asks me. “Aphrodites are not allowed in our room.”

“It’s fine,” Megan intervenes. “I invited her.”

She didn’t, but she knows she’s about to win this war I never wanted to be part of. I walk across the room to her. This battlefield is her territory, and it’s fitting to receive your enemy’s surrender.

She’s sitting on a sofa, a cup of tea in her hand.

“What else?” I rasp, feeling out of breath.

Cocking an eyebrow, she can barely hold back the smirk that tries to spread on her lips. “What else?” she repeats, as if she didn’t understand me.

“What else did he do to destroy me? He had a plan, didn’t he? When did it start?”

She takes her time sipping, delicately putting the cup and saucer back on the table. She just loves watching me squirm, doesn’t she?

“I can’t tell you his exact plan because no one knows it. No one can win a chess game if the pawns know they’re going to be sacrificed, can they? Every move is a secret he keeps to himself, but I can tell you the ones I know he’s made.”

I’m almost shaking from the need to hear the truth. What if this is more than I can handle? There’s always something terrifying about knowing who someone really is, especially someone who you have a codependent relationship with. If I learn the truth about who he really is…I might never be able to forgive him. It will be the end of him and I, forever.

And why is this so hard to accept? Ignorance is bliss, and I want to keep telling myself Chris is the man who will protect me, use me and make me feel good in the process, build my confidence as he controls me. It’s fucked up, but it’s our kind of fucked up and that’s the way we love each other. He gives me what I need and, in exchange, I give him exactly what he wants, what he obsesses about, what he can’t live without…me. My all. My conscious sanity and my instinctive, unconditional love. It’s how we’ve always worked.

But I am not the woman I used to be. I’m not the impressionable teen he molded. And he might have never been the man I thought he was.

“Nothing in our world comes for free, Ella.” Her rich voice is so assured and pompous compared to me, that I feel our difference in status deep in my bones.

“What do you want?” I croak. This is not what I ever saw for myself. I worked hard to become the girl everyone respected and envied, and the Circle shattered it all.

Maybe it was a lie. A very good lie I told myself.

“You know what I want.”

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