Page 181 of Blood & Betrayals

Eventually, I pull back and wipe my face, the sobs easing to a mere echo.

“Congratulations,” Max says, keeping his arms firmly around me. “You’re now only eighty-five percent hopeless.”

I clear my throat, wiping my face again with the hem of Connor’s still-wet jersey. “Mention this again, and I’ll cut your dick off and put it in a meat grinder.”

Max smirks. “Jokes on you. I’m into that.”

I huff a weary laugh and shift off his lap.

Max stands and offers me his hand. I look up at him, feeling more than a little vulnerable, but then I slide my hand into his and let him pull me to my feet.

Max lifts his shirt, showing an already yellowing bruise on his chest. “You should be proud. You’re one of only a handful of people who have ever managed to bruise me.” He drops his shirt and looks at me. “Ice tonight. You’ll need it after using your powers for more than a couple of minutes.”

I nod. “All right.”

Max pats my shoulder. “Whatever it is, just take comfort in this.” Warily, I look up at him through lashes spiky with tears. “I won’t ask you to tell me.” He smirks.

I turn away from him and leave the gym. The rain is still hammering down, soaking me to the skin again. I look toward the dorm but don’t feel ready to return there. I want to be alone, and the forest calls to me. It’s a bad idea, but I don’t care. I turn and bolt for the trees. I am about to pass the treeline when something grabs my wrist, stopping my headlong flight.

“Summer,” the stranger’s voice brushes against my ears.

I whirl to face him, squinting against the heavy rain. He waves his hand, and suddenly, the rain is beating down against an invisible canopy.

“I heard you,” he says.

“I thought you were gone this weekend,” I accuse, trying to catch my breath.

“I am,” he says, and I can hear the frown in his voice.

“You don’t lookgone,” I demand.

He pauses for a moment before stepping closer to me. “What are you doing?”

“I… I’m not cut out for this.” The truth spills out of me, and I can breathe a little easier once it leaves my lips. “I’m not cut out for having people in my life who care about me.”

He tilts his head. “You don’t get to choose how others feel, little fae.”

I close my eyes, feeling those cursed tears falling again, mixing with the water dripping from my hair. “It was easier when no one gave a fuck about me. It was easier to hide that…” I trail off, the words getting stuck in my throat.

“That you’re not worthy of their love?” he asks.

I open my eyes and look up at him, craning my neck. “That I’m a complete mess and unable to love them as they deserve.”

The stranger brushes a lock of wet hair out of my face. “They don’t love some idealized version of you. They love you as you are.”

“I’m not worth loving,” I say and look away. “I’ve… done something that I…” Once again, the truth scalds my throat, stealing my voice. I was drunk when I told Alice, which helped with the vile taste of my truth. Now, I am completely sober, and the only thing fuelling me is the need to be fully understood for the first time. Alice understands why I did what I did, but I didn’t show her what lives in the abyss. I barely understand that part of me, but I instinctively know the stranger does. I feel safer here than I do anywhere else, which is ridiculous given I have no idea who he is, and he emanates power and danger.

He just waits, the silence heavy around us. “I killed someone,” I say, somehow knowing there will be no judgment from him. He just continues to watch me, waiting for the story. I tell him all about Torin, about our situation, the manipulations, the lies, the abuse. All of it spills from me, and it’s almost easy. It feels so right to tell him about this, to tellhimabout how I have been hunted for years, that I have been afraid for years, and he simply listens. His hands clench a couple of times throughout the story, but otherwise, he is silent and still.

I feel his eyes boring into me even though I can’t see him. Being watched by him feels nothing like when Torin is hunting me, and I can’t help but admit that there is something oddly familiar about it. Maybe I was born to be hunted by one being or another. Maybe I am destined to be prey.

“It’s never about worth,” he begins, and I’m surprised he doesn’t launch right into a million questions about the truth of my past. “You are your own worst enemy as I am mine. Insidious thoughts in our minds whisper falsehoods hoping to break us.” He doesn’t move. “Do you love them?” he asks.

I nod.

I feel his body tense. “Show them. Hold nothing back.” His form flickers. “I have to go. The rune is breaking.”

“Rune?”

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