Page 38 of Bound By Threads
I shake my head at that thought. She’s gone, and there’s nothing I can do about it, even when I desperately wish I could rewrite it all.
Roman’s next to me, tapping away on his phone while he leads the way. Crew, as always, trails a few steps behind us—detached—his hoodie pulled low over his eyes like his mind is miles away from wherever we are, hiding from something none of us dare to talk about.
I can’t blame him. Hell, sometimes I feel like I want to hide, too.
I don’t know why, but today feels different. Maybe it’s the nagging thought in the back of my head that I’ve left her behind, or Pacheco’s shipment might not go easy with us not being there.
“We move quick, got it?” I mutter, glancing at the others. “I want to get back to our new room.”
I never thought that I’d be in college after everything or staying in the dorms, but Roman’s dad thought it would be the easiest way for us to get access to the other students and ‘make connections.’ We’ve got a few places to check for potential buyers—quick stops, in and out, no drama.
Roman’s eyes meet mine, his expression unreadable, but his lips press into a tight line. “Got it.”
Crew doesn’t say anything, and I know he won’t until the tremble in his hands subsides. His addiction is a constant weight we’re now used to. We’ve dealt with his withdrawals for what feels like the hundredth time while we work our asses off for Roman’s dad, all while we work behind the scenes to separate ourselves from him, yet today, there’s an edge to my thoughts that I can’t shake.
Whatever it is, I feel it gnawing at me, digging under my skin, making every sound a little too loud, every shadow a little too dark.
We headtoward the main quad, where the group of students seems to thicken. A small crowd is gathered ahead, their attention fixed on something in the center. Phones are out, cameras pointed at whatever is drawing their attention, and I can’t help the uneasy feeling that spreads through me as I pick up the pace.
“Let’s check it out,” I say, keeping my voice low.
Roman’s eyebrows knit together. “Let’s keep moving.” He responds, his voice has a tight edge, the kind he gets when he knows we shouldn’t be involved.
Crew walks past us towards the crowd, and we follow after him. We push our way through, just enough to see what’s going on as the murmurs grow louder.
And I freeze in my tracks, my heart lurching in my chest like I’ve been sucker-punched.
Scarlett.
She’s standing there, alive, breathing, with a smile that lights up her entire face. A smile none of us have seen since she stopped speaking. The crowd surrounding them records her every move, and just like that, the world I’ve known for two years falls away.
Scarlett. Alive.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
All I can do is stare… at her.
Her once blonde hair is now brown, but she looks healthier from here… It’s the smile on her face, the way she looks so damn happy, that gets to me the most.
My chest tightens; the familiar anger I’ve felt since we lost her bubbles up in my throat because she’s supposed to be dead.
She was dead—or at least that’s what everyone was told.
Except now, here she is, alive and well, standing in front of a Marine. He’s wearing the uniform like it’s his second skin, and he holds her like he’s been waiting forever to hold her.
She jumps into his arms, laughing, her face lighting up with joy, and she whispers in his ear.
I feel a wave of nausea hit me. The noise around me fades, and all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears, the pulse of my heart in my throat.
Thud.
The same heart that stopped beating when she died.
Thud.
The heart that only ever beat for her.
Thud.
