Page 184 of I Will Break You

My cheeks heat at the accusation that I’m a user. At one point, I thought he was my soulmate. Part of me still does. The shame is tempered by his declaration of love, but the way he spits it out feels like a cruel joke. His love is a double-edged sword, promising both ecstasy and agony.

“Well, I hate you,” I blurt, already cringing at sounding so clumsy.

His pale eyes soften, and his lips twitch upward into a tiny smirk. “There will be time enough for us to hate each other later.”

He strides onward, leaving me behind. I turn around and stare into the dark, wondering if I can make it back to Mrs. Baker’s basement. He’d probably enjoy chasing me through a creepy tunnel and then fucking me against the cold concrete wall.

I clench my fists, anger bubbling up to mask the hurt. He acts like he cares, but his words scream otherwise. Is this some twisted game to him? Playing with my heart, making me doubt every step I take? His soft eyes and tiny smirk feel like a lie, a facade to keep me ensnared.

Shoulders sagging, I glare at his retreating figure, wishing all manner of hateful shit on that broad back. If I’d known he’d be such an unforgiving prick, I might not have written that first letter.

As I watch him disappear into the shadows, I can’t help but think of all the times I believed his sweet words, only to be met with cold reality. Maybe I’m the fool for falling for his act, for hoping there’s still a part of him that loves me.

But if he thinks I’ll just roll over and let him win, he’s sorely mistaken. I straighten my shoulders, my resolve hardening. He may have power over my body, but my spirit is still my own.

“Chop chop, little ghost.” His voice echoes from the darkness.

The lights turn off, encasing me in pitch-blackness. Ghostly fingers swipe at my skin, activating my fight-or-flight. I race after Xero, which activates the illumination.

“Hey!”

Up ahead, he tilts his head but doesn’t turn to meet my gaze.

“Did you ever look into my Uncle Clive?” I ask.

“Your mother’s house guest?”

I nod. “My father’s younger brother.”

“Were you close?”

“No.” I shake my head. “He just got out of jail.”

Xero halts in his tracks, his broad shoulders stiffening with the same level of suspicion I expressed when Mom told me Uncle Clive had been released from prison.

Turning around, he waits for me to catch up before asking, “For what?”

“That’s the thing,” I mutter. “She won’t say, but it was bad enough to get him attacked by a mob.”

“When was he released?” He continues walking.

I sigh. “No idea, but it has to be recent.”

“Leave it with me. What’s your father’s name?”

“Lyle. Lyle Crowley.”

“Any address?” Xero asks.

“He lives with my mom.”

He pauses again, this time to place both hands on my shoulders. The warmth of his palms seeps through my clothes but contrasts with his cold eyes.

“When did you last see your father, Amethyst?” he asks, his voice deceptively light.

My brows pinch at his use of my name. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“This is important. Did you see him when you last went to Alderney Hill?”

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