Page 52 of Burning Truths

Shaking my head, “You died. I watched you die.” I shout. “How? Was it all a trick? Is that how Hank knew where to grab me?” My voice bounces off the bare walls. Pure rage takes over and now I’m leaning over my knees yelling, “You sold me to him like a fucking cow to the slaughter house. All of you!”

The sting of pain tells me my fingernails broke skin yet I continue. Unable to hold back the overwhelming feelings I’ve been trapped with.

“Why? I begged you to breathe, Cole! I was the one who found you. To walk into that room and see you hanging there.” My voice breaks. “Just tell me why Hank? Is this to get back at my father?” I’m speaking so fast I'm not sure he can understand a word I’m saying.

The organ in my chest pangs at the anguish in my tone. Shattered at the lies, the fucking betrayal, watching the burning truth looking me in the face. Cole Stone faked his death and let me watch him die. Green eyes look away, unable to hold my stare any longer. Using the back of my hand I swipe at mycheeks fighting the tears that still fall. Frustration, heartbreak, and exhaustion war inside me.

Shifting in the chair, Cole rests his forearms on his legs. “I did die, Princess.” He says. His words are deep and hollow but a lie.

Shaking my head I refuse to believe any more lies from this family.

Placing his hands on the edge of the bed he drags the chair closer with his foot. With his knees pressed against the bottom of the bed he leans closer letting me see past the mask they wear so well.

Licking his bottom lip, “I’m only here because of sheer fucking luck. Anything outside of that and I’d be in that grave marked with my name. There is a lot you’ve missed.” He says. Clearing his throat a free hand rubs at the scar there. “Our scars match, Princess.” Reaching out, his fingers hover over my fresh scar.

He gently strokes my throat, eyes cast down at the ragged mark across my tender flesh, he hesitates. “It took me a while to speak and when I did your name was the first to fall from my lips. You bleed, we bleed.”

I suck in a gasp at his words. Our words. What we live and die by.

But they sold you.

“Then why?” I ask.

His head shakes swaying his blonde hair, “You were gone for a while, Kenna. We have no idea what he put you through or what he has you believing, but you’re safe now.” He states.

The light outside is slowly growing darker with each passing second. A shadow cast across the room bringing a chill with it. Pulling his hand away Cole shifts in his spot.

“If I’m safe, why am I locked in this room?” I ask. Looking for an opening to get the hell out of here. Chewing on the inside of my cheek I remind myself that they still have Hank.

“Have you tried the door?” His eyebrow raises with the question. Like he already knows the answer to that he laughs, the sound haunting, “You’re not a prisoner here, Princess.” Waving a hand at the door in a show of freedom he pushes away from the bed and stands.

Stretching out his arms he rolls his neck popping it in the process. Bright eyes peer down at me, “Where you go is up to you. As long as we have Hank you’re safe I promise.”

Walking towards the door he doesn’t look back until his hand is on the knob. Dipping his brows, his lips twitch, “Remember who we are and you’ll figure out who to trust.”

Stepping through the doorway he lets the door swing shut once again leaving me in the room alone. Only this time it’s unlocked and I have no plan of sticking around to see who’s next to visit.

Chapter Twenty-Four

KENNA

Rummaging through the first drawer of the tall mahogany dresser I pull out two mixed matched socks. Sniffling through the tears that slip past my lashes I make an effort to swallow down my feelings. Breathe in through my nose and out my mouth. Repeating that in my head I’m able to focus on slipping the socks over my cold feet that also prevents the sound of my steps. Gently shutting the drawer my eyes cast down to take in my outfit. Somewhere along the way I’ve gained a large baggy shirt that I know it’s mine yet the same gym shorts hang on my hips. Squeezing my eyes shut to block out the image of my bones poking out it takes me several seconds to flush out the shame.

Pulling open the bottom drawer a sigh leaves me when I come up empty. Who the fuck has only socks in a dresser? Psycho that’s who. Licking the back of my teeth my nails dig into the paint with my frustration. Angry tears take the place of the ones that fell before it and now adrenaline is coursing through my veins.

“I need to get the fuck out of here.” I whisper to myself.

Turning towards the door my teeth bite into the skin of my bottom lip pulling and picking at the raw meat there. Long tangled blond hair hangs in messy waves down my back and I’mreminded once again of how dirty I am. How dirty I feel. That feeling returns, my skin itching and stretching over my bones. Pulling too tight around my skeleton.

Stop being weak.

The usually snarky bitch in my head actually has a point this time. Where did Kenna Kingston go? Is she dead? Were the Stone brothers able to break me so easily?

Get out of the house and then we can come up with a better plan.

Nodding my head to myself, my slow steady steps carry me to the bedroom door. My hand rises to grasp the knob, twisting it an inch at a time to prevent any noise. Dragging in a large gulp of air I pull the door open, almost shocked that it worked. The hallway expands in two directions and only someone who has never been in the Stone mansion wouldn’t know where to go, but their mistake is bringing me to a place where I grew up. Looking left and then right to make sure the hallway is clear my gaze runs over the subtle grey walls framed by glossy white trim. Large beautiful otherworldly paintings hang every few feet on each side of the walkway.

The Stone family love their art pieces and each one has its own certificate of ownership. Another way for the rich to flaunt their money, yeah I know, I’m rich too. Licking my lips to wet them I take soft steps walking as fast as possible down the hall to the left where it leads into a large conservatory. Passing by empty rooms I take my time, making sure no one is around, and listening for anyone coming to check on me. Memories of myself and the boys playing games through this massive home slam into me like a freight train unable to stop before demolishing the car in the middle of its tracks.

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