Page 53 of Edge of Control

Only a matter of time now until I figured out who was behind Nevermore.

Chapter 20

Theo Glass

Noneof this was ever in my plans.

Not meeting Jace, not opening up to him.

Not falling for him.

None of this.

And it could all royally fuck me. This could end me. Ruin me.

Yet I wanted more. Wanted to keep splitting myself open for him so that he understood every single piece of me. So he could comprehend exactly how I functioned. So he could know why I did the things I did and why I had to keep it going until I made it all the way to the top of the food chain.

I lay in my own bed, Luke curled up by my feet. I stared directly up at the ceiling as if I were lying in my own coffin. The sun still hadn’t come up. I loved this time of the morning, where seemingly no responsibilitiesexisted. No anxieties about the day. Nothing mattered except justbeing. Resting.

But still, I felt the anxiety rising. I reached for Luke and dragged him up to my face. He gave a surprised meow at being woken up but quickly settled back down.

My little buddy. I’d had him for seven years now. He had known me before I was broken, before I cracked.

He was one of the only souls I could say I truly loved. Even though he was just a cat, he had seen me through a countless number of panic attacks. Every time I felt myself spiral, I’d reach for him. He became so accustomed to it that he’d start to seek me out when the nerves began ratcheting up.

And fuck, were they starting to ratchet.

It had been two weeks now since I’d spent the night at Jace’s. Since he had found me on his computer.

Dumb, stupid, fuck.

I banged a closed fist against my forehead. Luke perked up.

“That was so stupid. Shit.”

And then I opened up to him. Laid myself bare. Gave him my deepest, darkest traumas (well, some of them, at least). I never did that, notwith anyone. It was like handing over a loaded gun. Knowledge that could be used to hurt me more than an actual bullet.

But I trusted him.

The detective hunting me down.

I trusted him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Luke put a paw out. His nails gave my forearm a little scratch. I curled into him, lying on my side, trying to control my breathing.

I wanted to text him. He was probably still sleeping, but I wanted to text him. Wanted to be back in his home. We’d hung out a few times after that, but he’d been too busy with work—with hunting for me—that I couldn’t really get to see him. Not unless I was in the office building next door, watching him.

And I’d only done that once.

Okay, twice.

It was beginning to make me feel bad. A conscience was starting to develop, like a fetus growing limbs somewhere inside me, unfurling from the nothingness that had been nesting in my chest for years and years and years. He made me second-guess everything. My life, my mission. I wanted to avenge Marielle, wanted to make her death mean something, but could I have been going about it the wrong way?

Not that it mattered. The past was the past, after all.

The buzz in my veins heightened. It was like I had swallowed an entire hive of angry bees. My bones rattled.

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