Page 21 of Outcast

I loved the cliffs. Strangely enough, they reminded me a bit of home. But today was one of those times I hated them. The climb up with kayaks was a bitch.

Henry popped up from the stairs and I doubled my speed.

I'd barely shaken him off in the caves, and I had already spooked myself enough. I didn't need him needling me or bringing up things better left in the past.

Chills attacked the back of my head, and my head shivered. Leaving everything behind was best.

Andre wanted the Institution, which I heard wasn't theInstitution anymore. If I'd stayed, I'd only be in the way. The legitimate heir sticking around would make it more difficult for my brothers to rise to power.

There was nothing left for me there anyway.

I'd fucked up the one good thing I had, but in no reality did it make sense for me to live in the shadow of my past.

Selfishly, I wanted to break free of that black cloud. Start over. Live a fresh life whereImade all the decisions. WhereIwas the only one responsible for my own fuck ups.

Instead of jumping in my car, I headed for the cliff where the seagull was caught.

It didn't take long to find where it was. I'd made it my priority to map out the cliffs from the water and on land. Especially after I'd had my own fucked up experiences.

The fishing lines were here, but the bird was gone.

Releasing a breath, I turned away. Either it had lived, or it had died. There was nothing I could do about it now.

Letting my mind wander on autopilot, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up fresh bread and some different meats. I could at least feed my neighbor before I went to bed.

The apartment I'd found was small. A one bedroom and a far cry away from what I'd grown up with. At times it felt comforting, and others it suffocated me. I kept waiting for my body and mind to acclimate to my new normal.

The law of human nature meant I'd eventually get attached to this type of living over what I came from.

I climbed the stairs, bags hanging from my fingers as I made my way up. Pedro lived on the top floor. I think he liked it like that so less people came to visit him. A very different mindset than most of the Portuguese people I'd met.

I knocked on the door and waited.

"Já abri!" he yelled, then his voice was followed by someone else's voice. A feminine one. One thing about the homes here, if they were built more than ten years ago, the walls were thin as paper and the insulation was non-existent.

Which meant I could hear the other voice very well.

The blood in my veins froze as my body locked up. That wasn't right. No one knew where I was. I made sure to cover my tracks and when I handed Grace the note, I didn't stick around for questions. I booked it away from her like my ass was on fire.

"Matt!" Pedro yelled louder and there was shuffling like he was trying to get up.

I jolted and used my hand to twist the doorknob. He had arthritis and it was hard for him to get around. That was what I told myself as I walked into his apartment. It had nothing to do with needing to know if I was right, if the other voice was from my past.

My eyes adjusted quickly to the darkened apartment as the door slammed shut behind me.

The physical feeling of blood draining from my face left me lightheaded and swaying as I faced Pedro sitting at his kitchen table with Rita.

Rita Aguilar. The love of my life and the woman I'd left behind.

Sitting at the table, she looked as if no time had passed at all. She had her legs crossed as her toned thighs peeked from under her tight dress. Her feet were in sharp, stiletto heels, just like she always wore.

I swallowed as I let my gaze work its way to her face. Her breasts were about to pop out of her top and she was so fucking sexy, she was every man’s fantasy.

When I got to her face, my head and chest felt like they were going to explode from the sudden pulse of heat.

She was as gorgeous as she ever was with perfectly done make-up, puffy, sexed-up lips, and bold smoky eyes that stared daggers at me. Even her curls were glossy and full.

This was what the devil looked like before he came to drag you to hell. Like a dangerous woman who'd cut your heart out and eat it because you couldn't be what she wanted.

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