Page 30 of The Reckoning
Drew steps back, and I head to the door. “I need to take a walk and clean myself up. Clear my head. Hell, I haven’t been out of a building and in the open air outside of helping to get Lilian back in months. Maybe a walk and some fresh air will help.”
“Maybe.” Drew claps me on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself. Since everything seems a little calmer, I think I’ll go check in on Bel. You guys have my number. Call when you’re ready for next steps.”
The fluorescent light buzzes overhead, throwing sharp shadows across my face as I study the reflection staring back at me. I don’t recognize the man looking back at me. A smattering of small nicks along my jaw is bleeding, but I’m satisfied with the shave. At least the overgrowth of stubble is gone now.
I look sharper now, harder. Less like the ghost Arson left in his place and more like myself—or maybe someone I don’t quite recognize. My hair’s still longer than I like, shaggy at the edges, and for a moment I toy with the idea of shaving it all off, stripping away every piece of me that even remotely resembles him.
It’s a tempting idea, and one that dies as soon as it forms. I love my hair, and I refuse to let him take another thing from me. Instead, I trim it back as clean as I can manage.
When I step back, the man in the mirror looks leaner and more hollowed out. Hazel eyes ringed with shadows, jaw cut sharper than I remember, a rawness lingering that no amount of soap or water can wash away.
I’m me, but I’m different, and there’s no way to explain that physical feeling. Of seeing yourself but knowing you aren’t really the same person who’s looking back at you. Sliding into clean jeans and a plain T-shirt steadies me.
The fabric feels foreign against skin that’s known nothing but grit and concrete for weeks, but it’s a nice change. The boots ground me, their weight familiar, their solidity welcome. For the first time in too long, I almost feel like myself again—lighter, though not unscarred.
I head out into the morning light. The door to the warehouse slams behind me, and the air outside hits like a fist—cold, sharp, too big after weeks of being trapped in walls and shadows. Every breath that fills my lungs helps to clear away some of the hazy rage lingering in my mind, but it doesn’t clear the storm in my chest. My boots grind against gravel as I walk aimlessly through the industrial sprawl, hands jammed into my pockets, knuckles throbbing with every pulse. The city hums with life off in the distance, but here it’s all half-abandoned buildings and silence. Each step is heavy with everything I left in that room—Lilian’s eyes begging us to stop, Arson’s smug possession, the truth I finally spit out before I lost control.
I should feel free, but every breath just tastes bitter. The new cell phone Drew brought me vibrates in my pocket more than once, but I ignore it. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want reason or logic. I want answers. I want her.
The longer I walk, the more the question gnaws at me. If Lilian asks me to let her go—if she chooses him—could I do it? The thought rips through me like shrapnel.
Fuck, no. I’ll die first.
But that only leaves us with limited options. By the time I circle back to the warehouse, I’m calmer on the outside, though inside I feel raw and ripped open, my rage stripped down to bone. With a harsh breath, I straighten my spine and walk back into the warehouse.
There are so many things to worry about, enemies on all sides, but the most important thing to me at the moment is making sure Lilian and I are okay. I can’t lose her. Not after everything we’ve endured together. I know what needs to be done, that we need to talk and choices need to be made, but I don’t know if I’m ready.
Part of me wants to tear my brother apart for touching her. Part of me wants to beg Lilian to remember what we could be. I know I’m also at fault in all of this.
There’s just the fantasy of what we had...then reality, which was me pushing her away time and time again. Then the final blow of her giving up and letting me go.
It hurts to think about.
And part of me—the part forever changed by my captivity—needs answers, needs to know if there is a future for Lilian and me at all, and if so, what that might look like. As I walk down the hall and back toward the bedroom, my blood pressure spikes as the reminder of how I found them a short while ago springs into my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut against the visual.
Calm down.I whisper to myself while dragging in a calming breath, then grab the doorknob, turning it slowly before shoving the door all the way open.
On the other side of the door, I find Lilian in Arson’s button-down, the hem skimming her thighs like a possession, her hairmussed from his hands. It’s hard to admit, but the sight fucking rattles me to my core. My chest aches from looking at her. Arson sits shirtless beside her, scars etched across his torso like a roadmap of violence, along with nail indentation and scratches from Lilian’s nails.
Two lives carved from the same DNA, yet we’ve become something unrecognizable to one another. Both of them turn their attention to me as soon as I walk in. There’s a flash of guilt in Lilian’s eyes that she doesn’t even try to hide.
Arson’s eyes narrow to slits, like a man daring me to test him.
Lilian gives me the briefest smile. “You look different, but in a good way.”
Her touch, her scent, it’s my undoing, even if it’s mixed withhisscent.
I can’t help but smile back at her. “Thanks, I tried my best. I cut myself a few times, but it was worth it. I already feel like I can breathe a little easier.”
“That’s good. I went to find you to try to talk about what happened earlier, but you must’ve left.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I apologize even though I have no reason to. “I needed a little air, so I went for a walk. It helped to sort my thoughts a little bit. It’s important we talk about what happened and try to figure out what the plan is for the future.”
“What happened is done. Lilian is safe,” Arson chimes in.
I drag a chair closer, scraping it deliberately across the floor before sitting. “For now, but who knows about the future. The guys who took her, they weren’t just your backers, that much is obvious. They expected me to be there. In fact, something tells me they needed it to be me.”
A flicker of surprise crosses his face before he can mask it. “Why would they want you?”
