Page 89 of Into The Darkness

“I agree,” he chimed in, his presence reinforcing my dad’s stance. The three of us stood in that room, amid the disorder I’d created in their pristine house—a reminder that perfection wasn’t everything.

“And if you hurt him this weekend . . .” I began, my voice a low warning.

“I won’t, if you heed Dad’s advice. End things with Ash, Ember.” The finality in his words struck me like a blow. The conversation seemed to be heading toward a conclusion I wasn’t ready to face. The prospect of breaking up with Ash felt like slamming the door on a future I’d been desperate to secure.

“Why?” My voice cracked, the weight of guilt and sorrow crashing over me anew.

“Ember, I understand you might think that we shielded you from our world to keep you uninvolved, but that’s not the whole truth. Throughout my life, my only goal has been to protect you.” My dad’s words held a depth of sincerity, a glimpse into his perspective that helped me realize he wasn’t the antagonist here. Somewhere deep down, I understood that he had tried his best, especially after Mom was gone.

“Okay, I think I just want to go home now.”

“I’ll drive you,” Walsh offered, and I held up a hand.

“No. I need a minute, some fresh air,” I said, knowing it was only a half truth. I needed to muster up the courage to walk across town to talk to Ash about this because I wasn’t waiting.

“Promise me”—I looked between them—“no one harms him.”

“I swear.” Walsh crossed his heart, and my dad came over to give me a hug.

“I’m not the bad guy, princess. I will go find a way to sit down with Mr. Ortiz.”

I nodded again, grabbing my purse, and headed outside. I paused when I heard my dad cough and speak up again.

“Hey, Ember?”

“Yeah?”

“Your mother named you Ember because she always thought you were going to be the light to our family. The last little spark we needed to come to life.” I choked up again, the numbness seeping back into my pores.

“Too bad she fucked it all up for us,” I said, turning my back as Walsh and my dad talked about how that wasn’t true and I was exaggerating.

It was the truth. The reality of my mom’s actions loomed over me like a dark cloud. Her reckless decision to engage in an affair with someone from the rival group was the root cause of this intricate mess. She had been careless and selfish, and now her choices were coming back to haunt me in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. To make matters worse, she was caught in the crossfire trying to protect her lover.

Her . . . fucking . . . lover.

“Fucking hell!” I screamed into the pouring rain, the physical manifestation of my turmoil mirroring the chaos within me. Each droplet seemed to carry a fragment of anger, sadness, and numbing despair. My strides took me down the path toward the Den, and with every step, my resentment grew stronger.

The rain soaked through my clothes, and the closer I got to the Den, the more the anger boiled within me. I was fed up with the constant protection, the decisions made for me, the notion that I was incapable of taking control of my own life.

Who were Walsh, Dad, and Ash to dictate my choices? To shelter me from the truth? Everyone seemed to whisper “protection” like a broken record, a mantra that was driving me mad. And Ash omitted the full truth from me . . . yet again. The person I thought I could trust had withheld crucial information that affected my life in unimaginable ways.

As I trudged through the rain-soaked streets, my mind grappled with the reality that I might be a pawn in a grander scheme, much like my mother had been. I was being used to resolve this grudge between two underground groups. I was being placed in the middle of it and would end up dead like my mom.

In a moment of surrender, I threw my jacket to the side, letting the rain cascade over me. I didn’t care anymore. I was done with the facade, the pretense. Each droplet was a cathartic release, washing away the pent-up frustration and heartache.

Chapter thirty-six

Cold and wet, I stood in the Den’s foyer. My scream tore through the quiet of the house, reverberating like a thunderclap. I didn’t care how unhinged I appeared; the turmoil inside me demanded an outlet.

The house erupted into movement as guys streamed down the stairs, some clutching knives, their poised stances a testament to the charged atmosphere. I was beyond caring about their reactions. My voice echoed off the walls, a relentless chorus of frustration.

Time and again, I screamed until my throat was raw, my cries a release for the pent-up storm raging within me. Rain’s deliberate descent down the stairs drew collective attention; his presence held a weight that spoke of understanding. Yet, I was too consumed by my own turmoil to worry about appearances.

“Get his ass down here, immediately,” I said, voice hoarse.

“He’s not home.” Rain approached me cautiously.

“Call him.” Rain nodded at Pico. Pico grabbed his phone from his pocket.

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