Page 88 of Bound By Threads
“I want no part of this, Roman. I’ll back you with Pacheco. You’re my brother, but I won’t watch you break her again.” He walks into the other room, but he’s not as smooth as he wants to be. His shoulder clips the doorframe on the way out.
“Lottie…” Crew whimpers again. “Don’t leave me…”
My jaw tightens. “She already did, Crew. She left us all. Stop chasing a ghost, it’s going to destroy you.”
He doesn’t hear me… but I know she’s going to destroy us all again.
I just need to destroy her first before my father gets here and finds us fractured and bleeding.
I look down at Crew, broken and shaking, and for the first time, I wonder if I’ve already lost.
Chapter38
Lottie
My heart shatters.
The water on my jeans is cold now, clinging like a second skin. The book lies limp and ruined on the table, pages curling, but that doesn’t matter.
He’s gone. And it’s all my fault.
I sit still, hands in my lap, fingers clenched so tightly my knuckles ache. My heart isn’t beating… It’s hammering, a dull, desperate thud inside my chest that keeps asking the same question.
What if it’s true?
What if the only person who ever gave half a damn about me in my old life is gone?
I haven’t reached out to him, never tried, because he told me to run and never look back.
Grief claws up from the dark and wraps around my throat.
Will’s voice is calm and distant, saying something about calls, checking, and confirming.
I nod. Or maybe I don’t. I can’t tell.
The pressure in my head is rising, crowding everything else out. It’s like my body can’t decide whether to shatter or scream.
I wrap my arms around myself and close my eyes.
If he’s gone…
If I let him die thinking I was dead, then Roman’s right in ways he’ll never even understand.
Because I can’t take it back… I can’t rewrite the silence.
I thought I could rebuild myself from the wreckage. But now, sitting here, soaked, cut to the bone by Roman’s words. I feel hollow.
Not strong.
Not angry.
Empty.
“Lottie,” Will says gently, crouching in front of me. His voice is steady, but I can hear the thread of worry underneath it. “We’ll find out the truth. Okay?”
I nod, but I don’t trust myself to speak. If I do, I know I’ll break and I won’t be able to stop.
So I retreat into the silence, pressing my fingers to my lips like I can hold the grief in, and let Will lead me to his car. He directs me to the passenger seat and drives me home.
