Page 100 of Avidian
I struggle to breathe. The very real possibility that none of this was Malachi doesn’t absolve him. Even if he didn’t pull the trigger—or, in this case, thrust the knife—someone in Solace did. And if he didn’t know, then he’s blind. If he did...
I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms as I force the intrusive thoughts to settle. I don’t want to believe any of it, but the pieces fit too perfectly to ignore.
And yet...Malachi saved me. He’s been the one standing between me and the worst of this world. He’s been my anchor, the only person who’s made me feel alive in years. How do I reconcile that with this possibility? How do I face him when everything inside me is screaming that he might be the very monster I’ve been trying to find? Killing Damien is one thing, but Carmen too and then playing me the entire time…being intimate with me and all the things we’ve shared all while he was keeping this from me.
The tears threaten to fall again again, but I swallow them down, locking them away. There’s no time for emotions. No time for doubt. Not now. If I’m going to survive this, if I’m going to get the answers I need, I have to stay sharp.
The truth will come out, and I know how to find it once and for all. I get up, quietly lock the door, and reach into my pocket, pulling out the small vial.
Avidian.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
RULE 29 OF THE NEW ORDER: THE TRUTH IS A DOUBLE-EDGED SWORD—BE READY TO BLEED WHEN YOU FIND IT.
I turnthe vial of Avidian over in my hands, my thumb running along the smooth glass as though the motion could steady my nerves. Inside, the liquid swirls like a living galaxy, dark and mesmerizing, pulling at me with equal parts temptation and dread…I fear what it will show me, but I have to be ready to accept the truth.
I exhale sharply, trying to quiet the doubts rattling around my head. There’s no turning back now. My fingers tremble as I pop the cap off. The vapor rises immediately, shimmering like stardust before it disappears into the air. I hesitate for a fraction of a second before I inhale deeply. The vapor burns as it hits my lungs, sharp and bitter, but the effect is instantaneous. My vision blurs and sharpens again, clearer than ever before, the edges of the room suddenly more vivid.
Carmen.
Her name is a chant in my mind, a beacon I focus all my energy on. I picture her face, her presence, calling her back from whatever liminal space Damien has forced her into. “Carmen,” I whisper aloud.
The room grows colder, a biting chill that raises the hairs on my arms, and then she’s there—flickering into existence like a weak signal trying to hold steady.
She’s sitting on the bed beside me, fragile and translucent, her face a mixture of relief and sorrow.
“I know it’s been hard for you to reach me,” I say softly, for fear of her disappearing on me again. “I know Damien’s been keeping you from me, and I know… I know you’ve been through something horrible.” I pause, searching her face for any sign of hesitation, but she watches me, her eyes flickering with the faintest spark of hope. “Give me your hand, Carmen. Let me see what happened. You deserve justice. You deserve peace.”
She hesitates, her form flickering in and out like a candle fighting against the wind. Her gaze shifts to her lap, and for a second I think she’s going to disappear again. But then she nods, her movements jerky, uncertain. Slowly, she extends her hand, resting it lightly on her leg, her fingers trembling like she’s afraid of what I’ll find.
I don’t have time for hesitation. My heart pounds as I reach out, my fingers hovering above hers before making contact. The moment our skin connects, the world around me implodes. Cold crashes over me like a tidal wave, pulling me under. I gasp sharply and realize I’m no longer in the bedroom on the plane—I’m somewhere else entirely.
Somewhere darker.
And I see everything.
Damien’s voice filters through the door, muffled but clear enough to cause my skin to prickle. “In case I fall asleep, come get me before dawn.”
Carmen freezes mid-pace, her eyes flicking to the mirror. She smooths her hair, adjusts the strap of her top, and takes a steadying breath. Her hand trembles as it brushes the fabricof her skirt, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. She looks anxious, even scared.
There’s a knock at the door, and she rushes to open it, her steps hesitant despite the forced smile on her face. Damien steps inside, his movements cocky as he kicks the door shut behind him without taking his eyes off her.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he says, his voice low, laced with hunger. “I want another taste.”
The air between them feels heavy, charged. Carmen’s lips quirk upward in a nervous smile. She doesn’t back away as he closes the distance, his hands immediately finding her waist, tugging up her skirt.
The scene blurs for a moment, fragments flashing in and out like a film reel skipping frames. Suddenly, they’re on the bed, Damien’s body pressing into hers, moving with a rhythm that feels aggressive, but she moans like she’s into it. Carmen’s face is turned away, her gaze fixed on the door over his shoulder.
The door. It’s closed—or is it?
I whip around and see it’s ajar, a sliver of dim hallway light creeping into the room. My stomach knots as I catch the faintest movement—a shadow, someone watching. Carmen said he watched. This has to be him. This must be “Brian.”
The figure in the hallway doesn’t enter, doesn’t move closer. He stands there, a dark silhouette framed by the door. Carmen keeps glancing at him, her tension palpable even from where I’m standing. She’s not nervous—she’s terrified.
The door swings open abruptly, flooding the room with light. Damien turns, shielding his eyes with his arm. “Fuck, it’s early,” he mutters, clearly mistaking the figure for whomever was meant to wake him.
The man doesn’t answer. His head tilts slightly, and even though his face is hidden in shadow, the weight of his presence fills the room. Carmen sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest.Her wide eyes dart between Damien and the figure in the doorway.
