Page 17 of Falcon's Prey

“Sometimes it’s not the dog but its master. Dogs know when their master is a fraud, a failure; they can smell weakness, and let me tell you something…” I leaned close to her ear and whispered, “You reek of it.”

Ember stopped breathing for a second, her hands going to the diamonds at her neck, and then she walked away. Everyone loved to point out flaws until it was their own.

“Daddy,please let me come with you,” I begged my father when he came to kiss and hug me goodbye before his trip to Africa.

He gave a sad smile.“I’m sorry, princess. I wish I could.”

Right. He always wished he could.

I waved goodbye to my father.

“It’s okay, Ember. I’m keeping you company,” Uncle Silas said.

He wasn’t much older than me, just five years. I was eight, and he was thirteen. My grandparents had adopted him a few years back, but now Grandma was sick, and Grandpa was leaving with my dad on his trip.

“You think my daddy loves me?”

“How could anyone not love you?”

In my twenty-four years, I realized that love was also a weapon in the game of life. People used it, lied for it, stole for it. Some even killed for it. But in the end, it was a weapon nonetheless.

I reached for my nightstand, trying to find some joints, when my hand touched the cold surface of my laptop. Instantly, there was a chill in my body. The last time I’d touched it was when I made the mistake of logging into places I had no business being in.

Since I was in skimpy shorts and a tank top, I grabbed a long robe before I made my way out of my room. The hallways were dark, but for the first time, I felt an icy feeling go down my spine. I looked around, but found nothing. Shaking my head, I made my way outside. Once I was there, I grabbed the lighter and lit up my joint. I walked all the way to the edge of my building, dragging a chair with me. The fence was a little high for safety measures. I stood on top of the chair and looked down at the world. The people down below couldn’t see me, and they didn’t matter to me.

I exhaled smoke, and when I turned around, I found Ren standing by the door.

“If you jump, there’s no way in hell I’ll jump after you,” Ren said in a lazy drawl.

Tomorrow was my family’s dinner, and I was feeling reckless. I turned around, sliding down to the chair, aware that my robe was now hanging open at the sides. Slowly I started to bend one of my legs, and Ren followed the movement. It wasn’t cold, but it was chilly, and I knew my nipples had pebbled.

Ren knew it too. His eyes raked over my body, stopping at my center, and I could feel myself get wet. I wondered if he could see it through the satin cloth.

“Inside. Now,” he demanded in a gruff tone.

Instead of answering, I took another hit, then threw my head back and let out the thick smoke. The stench of marijuana and blueberry was in the air. When I brought my head back down, I opened my eyes and saw Ren had taken a seat on a chaise.

There were a million things I could have said to him, but instead, I went with the truth.

“You ever wonder what would happen if you died? Like if you were to die tomorrow, what would the people around you do? Would they cry? Be shocked? How long would they mourn, and how quickly would they forget you?”

Ren leaned back on the chair, his gaze leaving me and scanning the area around us. “Are you afraid of being forgotten?”

Something in my chest tightened like it was trying to suffocate me. It was probably my insecurities. Those bitches loved to taunt me.

“How can you forget someone you barely know exists?” I mused.

In my mother’s culture, people started praying immediately for your immortal soul after death. They prayed for nine days, then for the next nine years on the anniversary of your death. When I died, who would pray for me? Who would even remember me?

Ren stayed quiet, and I started to feel uncomfortable with my overshare. There was something dark and alluring about him that I wanted to reach and maybe be consumed by. After all, darkness would be welcome to the invisible shackles I found myself in. In the dark, no one gave a fuck what was right or wrong.

“I’m surprised you aren’t bitching at me about getting killed,” I said, mainly to try to move past my verbal diarrhea from earlier.

“Your back is to the fence, so no one can get you from behind. From this point the only one who can kill you is me,” he rasped.

For a second, I contemplated his words, wondering if he was capable of doing that to me.

“You need to relax,” I told him.

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