Page 2 of Beautifully Damned
I reach for the gun with trembling hands, clutching the cold metal tightly. I have no idea what I’m hoping to accomplish; I clearly don’t have it in me to wrench it away. I try, but the fear drowns me, and I abandon my mission. I spin on my heel, bolting out of the stable in tears.
I failed.
I’m sorry, Ace. So sorry.
I tried.
If I couldn’t save a horse…
How the hell am I supposed to save myself?
?Chapter II ?
Ayla
The night stretches, long and heavy, but sleep doesn’t come. I’m tangled up in my sheets, twisting and turning. Is Ace still breathing? Did Roman really shoot him?
Growing up in the mafia, I’ve always been taught that strength means everything. But I never learned how to be steady or strong the way they expect. Instead, when panic hits, my body locks up. I don’t have fight or flight. I have freeze or flight. I hate it. I grew up watching things blow up around me, hearing threats, seeing rage. And yet, I never got used to it.
I throw off the covers and slide out of bed, not standing to try to sleep with a guilty conscience. I grab the first thing I can find — a long pink dress that ends at my ankles — and pull it on quickly. Sneaking out has never been a thing for me. Not parties as a teenager or to go meet boys; my conservative Turkish father would have had an aneurysm. The first time I sneak out, it’s because of a horse. I don’t understand myself sometimes. But I just need to know if he’s okay.
The house is quiet. My mother’s asleep; she always takes her sleeping pills at ten. Baba’s still out. One at a time, I take the stairs. My fingers graze the wall as I go, counting each step in my head just to keep my nerves from getting too loud.
Then I bump into a chest, but I don’t startle, because it’s familiar. One of the few people in my life I feel safe with.
“Emir,” I whisper. He smells like clean soap and leather, always the same. I’ve known that smell since we were children, and when we got older, he took the position of being my bodyguard.
“Where are you off to?” He grumbles at me like I do this every day, which I certainly don’t.
“Somewhere,” I mutter, trying to squeeze past him.
He rubs a hand down his face. “Did you run out of pads again? I told you, you don’t have to sneak out to get them. Just text me. I’ll grab whatever you need, Ayla.”
I smack his arm as my face turns red. “Shut up.”
“It’s not a big deal. You act like I haven’t known you when you were a hormonal teenager.”
I groan, trying to hide the heat crawling up my neck. “I couldn’t sleep, okay?”
His teasing fades. “Why?”
I hesitate. “There’s a horse at the stable. He’s hurt. Badly. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
Emir reaches out and brushes a piece of hair from my face. “You sure this is about the horse?”
I nod quickly. Too quickly. I don’t tell him about Roman. About the gun. If I say it out loud, I’ll freeze again. Better to believe it was a fluke. A strange, terrible fluke.
“I just need to see him.”
“Ayla…”
I widen my eyes, pouting a little.
“No.”
I pout harder. “Please? I’ll be quick.”
“Your father will kill me if he finds out I let you out at three AM. Literally. Kill. Me.”
