Page 88 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

“Put that on the table. You don’t need to protect yourself from me, Miss Abbott.” The smile on his face makes me sick. “I would never hurt you. Unless you make me.”

A tragic case of déjà vu washes over me.

Henry hadn’twantedto hurt my mother. Her actions, her turning on him, had resulted in her death. That’s what he told her.

I try not to think often about how my mother fell for a man like Henry Pierson. What had occurred between the two of them that made her love him. Although Thatcher shares traits with him, he’s never been like his father in my eyes. I have always seen the remains of empathy and humanity beneath his cold exterior.

I think I now understood how easy it was for her to fall into his trap. She thought she knew him, trusted him, but it had only been the mask he’d wanted her to see.

I’d done that with Conner.

While our relationship hadn’t been romantic, I’d trusted him as a friend. Thought he was kind, gentle, and wanted the best for me. An innocent, harmless man who wouldn’t hurt a soul.

That mask had all been a lie.

One great, twisted lie.

Am I forever going to be cursed with bad judgment? Is it a hereditary thing to trust blindly? To forgo all the bad and only see the good in someone?

“I’ve waited so long for this moment.”

My eyes zero in on the way his hand reaches out, trying to brush a curl out of my face, but I flinch, jerking away from him and towards the back of the couch.

“Put the knife on the table, Lyra,” he demands, pointing the gun at my chest. “I won’t ask again.”

His expression sours. I no longer recognize this person standing in front of me. Conner had always been this normal, everyday kind of guy. Casual clothes, neat appearance, inviting brown eyes.

This person? Dressed in black, hair tousled as if he’s run his fingers through it one too many times, eyes beady and tainted—I don’t know him. They feel like two separate people.

I do as he asks, hoping wherever Thatcher is that it’s close. The knife clicks against the table, and my hands fall back to my lap. The muscle in his jaw twitches as he pulls his hand back, reaching behind him to pull something from his back pocket.

“This would be much easier if I was able to talk more, but I brought something for you to read so that you can understand, to make you see what I do.”

He tosses a brown leather journal onto the table, small with several pages, something you can keep on you at any second of the day.

“Conner, what do you want from me? Why are you here? Is this about Stephen—is he making you do this?”

I have no doubt he’s here of his own free will, but maybe I can pacify him for a little while longer by playing his game, pretending to care. I’m sure he’s here to get back at Thatcher, using me to do so.

His ego has been bruised, and this is his retaliation.

“I want you to read this,” he repeats, wincing as he says the words. “Once you do, everything will make sense.”

“Why can’t you—”

“Read it!” His voice makes me jump, and the coffee table shakes beneath his fist as he slams the gun into the book and shoves it closer to me with the barrel.

“Okay, okay.” I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but with every move of the gun, my heart stalls. My hands shake as I lift the leather-bound journal into my hands.

I open it on a random page, planning to skim the words written just to appease him, but after the first few sentences, I find myself actually reading.

Entry #20

I knew from the moment I saw Lyra Abbott arrive at Hollow Heights University she was my second chance at love. All grown up and beautiful. Phoebe was not grateful. She did not appreciate me. She’d chosen Henry even after I’d told her what he’d done, after I’d shown her what he was capable of. She still wanted him. Loved him. And it killed her. Lyra will be different. She will be mine.

Entry #37

She is a vision, spun in beauty and obscurity. I ache to touch her. I listened to her talk for hours today in the lab. School is starting back soon, and I know I will miss our private moments together. Will she miss them too?

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