Page 119 of Visions of Darkness

“It’s okay. No one will blame you when they find you bleeding out. They’ll know you can’t live without him.”

The compulsion to touch her was the strongest I’d ever felt.

With my hands tingling and my heart racing, my spirit was already there. Energy rushed to my fingertips, a bright, blinding light that lit the way.

We were only halfway through checking out, and I gulped around the disorder, barely able to choke out to Pax, “I need to use the restroom.”

A question marred his harsh brow, only a heartbeat needed to fully take me in. Concern immediately slipped into his features. “Let me finish, and I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t need to come with me to the restroom, Pax.”

It wasn’t that he wouldn’t understand. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been subject to the same vile atrocities we witnessed each night.

It was that his purpose was different from mine.

His purpose was protecting me, and I couldn’t take the chance of him getting in the way of what I needed to do. I knew he would always put me first, whatever the circumstance.

“The fuck I don’t,” he spat, low.

Another swell of depravity inundated me.

Dark.

Disorienting.

Blinding.

My lungs squeezed with it, my body vibrating with the need to go to her.

I set my hand on his chest. “Don’t box me in, too. I’m not helpless or weak.”

He looked like I’d struck him, the man torn. Worry pinched at the corners of his eyes while understanding lapped through the chaotic gray. He both wanted to argue and also knew that I was right.

“I’ll meet you at the car. I’ll hurry,” I promised.

Dread curled through his expression. “Don’t trust anyone, Aria.”

I gave him a tight nod, then hurried away. I could feel the weight of his gaze burning into my back as I rushed toward the hall that led to the restrooms just inside the entrance. My entire body buzzed with the energy that skimmed over my skin.

I knew the second Pax looked away, could feel it just as I reached the hall, and I turned course and gave myself over to the lure.

To the tether that pulled and pulled.

I quickly wound into the racks and displays, keeping myself concealed as I went. I followed the far wall before I ducked into an aisle stocked with dishes and kitchen utensils; then I cut across the store, following the wails of the child and the bleakness that seeped out like wisps of poison curling through the air.

She was up ahead, turning right down an aisle.

I followed her, tracking, keeping far enough behind that she wouldn’t feel me. So I wouldn’t incite more fear when she was already riddled with it.

So close to breaking.

She took another turn, this time into the baby aisle. She stopped at the diapers, pulled out a pack, wavered, then put it back.

The whole time, the voices howled, and the baby screamed.

“Do you hear his misery? You did this to him. Only you can give him the mercy he deserves.”

Agony radiated from her as she wound back around until she was in front of the dressing rooms. She unbuckled her son, brought him to her chest, and whispered, “Please.”

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