Page 20 of Flame
There’s no one else on this street, apparently a quiet residential roadway. Lights in various windows allude to populated homes, their occupants within earshot of a scream.
But I can’t seem to voice one.
If I’m a selfish little brat again, then he’s the same towering figure who’s dominated my memories for as long as I can remember.
But I don’t even recognize him now. And despite everything he’s done, there are some actions I’ve never considered him capable of.
“You watched me,” I say in a hoarse whisper, the loudest sound I seem capable of producing. “You spied on me, Bran. You saw me—”
“I’ve protected you,” he hisses, nudging me forward. “I still am. Rafe Wei-Shen? Do you have any idea what that fucker is capable of? What he’s done?”
His hissed tone carries far too much rage.
“Why don’t you ask around? I hear you’re not even the first girl he’s seduced.Ormanipulated into doing his dirty work, but it’s not even you he’s interested in—”
“And what about you?” I ask, finally turning to face him directly. “Who have you ‘manipulated’? Faith Wen?”
Surprise visibly crosses his face, but it goes far beyond typical shock. I’ve only witnessed his eyes narrow like this a handful of times. He’s afraid. “What are you talk—”
“You know what I’m talking about, Bran!” I wrench away, causing his nails to gouge at my arm in the process. Rather than run, it’s like my body is controlled by someone else. Someone reckless, who makes me meet his gaze head-on.
I don’t recognize the man staring back.
He’s not in uniform, and his mussed hair proves Liam’s story. He’s been out for hours, looking for me. Despite his best attempts, his neutral expression fails to convince me. Again, his eyes give him away, flashing and cold, a hard reflective green. In his gaze, I see myself staring back, every bit as gaping and stupid as the bunny Rafe implies I am.
But no more.
“I found the hair clip,” I rasp.
“Hair clip?” He sounds so convincing I almost fall for it. But his supposed confusion never reaches his eyes—if anything, they remain frozen. Ice-cold.
“It’s silver, in the shape of a butterfly,” I explain. “I found it in a box of my things, but it isn’t mine.”
“What makes you think I put it there?” he demands, raising an eyebrow. “It probably is one of yours. You just forgot you had it, and you’re so paranoid about making me the bad guy you’ll jump to any conclusion you can.”
“So, you don’t know Faith?” I ask him. “She was found dead the other day. She waited on us at the restaurant. She was seeing a police officer, and—”
“Who told you all of this?” Branden interjects harshly. “Honestly, Hannah, you sound ridiculous.”
“Just tell me you didn’t do it,” I whisper, and I’m surprised by just how earnest I sound. Desperate. “Tell me, Bran. Tell me you didn’t.”
“Do what?” he hisses, advancing a step, his hands in fists. “Catch you fucking a criminal? Lie to our parents when you disappear for days, Hannah? Think you were on your way to only God knows where? If Liam didn’t spot you when he did—” he exhales with a gruff sound akin to a growl. “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend about who’s been planting shit on you? You really have no idea what he’s capable of. Do you? Don’t tell me you’re dumb enough to think he’d be interested in you for no reason. To him, you’re just leverage. Don’t believe me?”
A tendril of doubt sneaks into my brain. After all, Rafe was the one who moved my things from my apartment in the first place. He had more than enough opportunity to hide something in a seemingly random box of trinkets.
But…
“Something else was missing from my things too,” I say, watching Branden for any hint of a reaction. “A gold bracelet. Does that ring a bell?”
“Jesus Christ, Hannah! Why are you trying to provoke me? Do you want me to fuck up again, huh? Like what you made me do the last time.”
I stiffen at the reminder.
Last time.
A fit of violence triggered because of me.
Everything he does isalwaysbecause of me, even now. I’m the reason for the flush of red creeping across his neck, visible even in the dark. I’m the reason why his hands are twitching as if he’s having to physically stop himself from striking me again. I’m the reason for his lack of control.
