Page 107 of The Art of Obsession
The safety I believed would protect me. His words haunt me.Because true freedom gives you the ability to unleash anything you could possibly desire.
Safety is boring,Cherry makes a show of yawning.I’d trade it for a little danger and the shirtless, scarred God of Art and Nightmares any day.
“You need time to heal, Everleigh,” Elliot tells me, stretching out his hand to touch my shoulder.
Everything inside me cringes.
Ugh. He touches us like we’re fragile. Acheron never made us feel fragile.
“To be with your friends,” Elliot says, and I know he’s well-meaning, though Cherry reminds me the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I laugh softly in our consciousness, reminding her that hell is too beautiful for good intentions. It’s lovely, dark, and deep…just like Acheron, likeCalproved.
Touche.
“How are you feeling?” Elliot asks, removing his hand.
“I-I don’t know. I just…he was a part of my life for five months.” I sit up but huddle into the blanket, my soul broken, shattered, not quite whole—not quite real. “I don’t think that can just go away.”
“What you’re feeling? It’s Stockholm Syndrome. It’s perfectly normal.”
I nod, but it’s hollow. I default to rationalizing and take comfort in Elliot’s familiar face. He’s only been my boss since graduate school, relying on me for so much because I worked my goddamn hardest. Something pinches in my chest, and it’s the first time I’ve confronted my inner awareness. My parents are in a senior citizen’s home. My friends are loose at best. No fiance. No connections. I could work 24/7 for him.
You worked 24/7 for Acheron, too,Cherry reminds me.But…fuck, Evie! The things he brought you were a hundred times more meaningful. God, Evie! You restored fucking Holocaust art! You gave them back to Jewish families. Acheron showed you those videos, remember? They were crying, breaking down?—
Shutupshutupshutup!
I bite my lip, needing a distraction. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe,” my boss says simply.
Safe. The word feels foreign now.
I press my hand to my stomach, my heart sinking as I think about the baby. Even if it forever ties me to Acheron, to RaidynCallum—am I the only one who knows his true name, the man behind the mask?—I can’t imagine not keeping it.
Why do I want him to be right? A girl. A daughter? Why does every urge confirm I want her for the same reasons if not more? Elizabeth Naomi Lennox…
I see a life unfolding before me—a life I never could have imagined before him.
It’s not like I never thought about having children. I used to dream about it—with my fiancé before he died. But that world, that version of me, is gone.
Cherry’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts.Safety doesn’t mean anything if it doesn’t feel right. And this? This doesn’t feel right,she quips, her voice laced with faux nonchalance as she folds her wings behind her.
This is my boss, Cherry.
Yeah, and this feels like a downgrade,she replies, deadpanning.We’re safe, but we’re not whole. He’s still out there, and you know it.
I shake my head, trying to suppress a smile. She’s always finding a way to make me laugh, even when my world feels like it’s crumbling.
He will come for me. At least that is real.
No amount of humor can stop the gnawing ache in my chest. I lean back against the seat, my hand still resting protectively over my stomach, and close my eyes.
No matter where this plane is taking me, I know one thing for sure.
I’m not done fighting yet.
As I exit the plane,warm tropical air rushes in, carrying the faint scent of salt and hibiscus.
I blink against the sudden brightness as I step onto the private runway. The sun glints on the sleek jet, reflecting off the sprawling manor rising from the island’s lush greenery, its flamingo-pink façade like a pastel punch to my senses.
