Page 50 of Cold Hard Truth

Something about the spooky décor feels more like me than it does him, and I’m not sure what to think about that.

At one end of the apartment is a hallway, and Sage guides me to it, pointing at an open door as we pass. “Spare bathroom.” He points to a door on the right. “Bedroom.” He points to another. “My room.” Finally, he stops at the end of the hall. “And this one’s yours.”

Sage swings the door open and it makes a hollow sound. The walls are probably thin enough to hear everything through them.

“This work?” he asks, stopping in the doorway while I make my way into the room.

“It’s fine.” I scan the space. “Nice wallpaper.”

Black rose wallpaper covers the walls, and it’s prettier than I’d expect from Sage. An intricate pattern that, like everything else hung up in this place, doesn’t feel like him.

“It’s been here since I moved in.” He shrugs.

Nodding, I take in the small room. The space is mostly filled with a clunky bed and a dresser, with not much room to walk, but I don’t mind it. At least there will be four walls and a door between us.

Dropping down onto the bed, I lean back on my hands and feel Sage’s focus intensify. Something between hate and interest brews in his eyes as he takes a step back.

“So what is it you do for Kane exactly?”

“You mean,your dad?”

I glare at him. “You and I both know that’s only blood.”

“Either way.” Sage tucks his thumbs in his pockets. “You have questions, you can ask him.”

“Fine. Maybe I will.”

I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that I never thought I’d see Sage again, or that now that he’s standing in front of me, he’s a wall of ice that there’s no chipping through.

“I’ve got to head out for a few minutes to take care of some business. But I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here.” I force a venomous smile and tap the choker around my neck. “And even if I’m not, you’ll know where to find me.”

“I will,” is all he says, his gaze flaring as I stroke my fingers across the choker.

For a man who seems to want nothing to do with me anymore, he sure seems to like the idea of tracking my every movement.

“Get some sleep.”

I glance at the clock. “It’s eight-thirty in the morning.”

“And it’s been a long night.” He slams the door behind him, cutting our conversation off.

Locking me in my tower while he leaves to do God only knows what. I’m a prisoner in chains, and there’s no escape.

I lay back on the mattress, hating to admit that Sage is right, and I’m exhausted.

Down the hall I hear the front door open and close, confirming the walls are as thin as I thought they were. And in the silence, I want to believe I’ll find what I cameback to LA for—answers. Light at the end of this very dark tunnel.

But as I lie on the bed and close my eyes, the skeletons from the shop window play in front of me. They taunt me.

Destiny is a bitch, and she finally caught up.

17

Lyla

Kicking my blanket offme, I stretch out and wipe away the sweat from the back of my neck. The clock says it’s ten, which means I’ve been sleeping only a little over an hour. I sit up and tie my hair up in a ponytail, trying to remind myself it’s not the end of the world that I’m back in LA, even if it feels like I might as well be unearthing an old grave.

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