Page 69 of The Dark Rising
I press my hands against the table, about to rise from my seat when Darius lets loose a growl full of menace, reminding me of the time in Eridian when he held the memory crystal. I freeze mid air, not daring to move. He shakes his head, hands curling into fists as everybody stays as still as possible. His dark eyes, now full of silver flecks, roam over my half seated posture before he releases a breath, then another until he calls back his power and turns, heading for the door before going though it and slamming it behind him.
“Fuck,” Leo curses, rubbing a hand over his face as he too gets up and follows Darius out, Damian going along with him in a hurry.
I fall back into my seat, my heart beating wildly and I press my hand against it, trying to soothe myself. “What just happened?” I gasp, looking at Zaide and Jerrod.
“He came to the basement where you were kept?” Jerrod asks me, his head tipping to the picture and I nod.
“It’s not something you forget.” I refuse to look at that picture again, refuse to see his face.
“Who is he?” Colten wonders aloud as Hudson moves his chair closer to him, his eyes on the door.
It’s Zaide who answers, voice holding a hint of anger. “Darius’s father.”
I blanch, feeling the blood drain from my face at his words. My stomach drops. I look toward the door Darius went through with dread sitting heavily on my shoulders. “Please tell me you’re joking?” I plead to Zaide, but he shakes his head, his jaw ticking.
“I’m not.”
I stand up and rush toward the door where Darius went. I open it to find a hallway, and hear voices coming from the end of it. Walking fast, I make my way toward them, to… I don’t know, to tell Darius that it wasn’t his fault? That if he didn’t know, which judging by his reaction, he didn’t, then that doesn’t make him at fault.
No matter what he has done, this is not on him.
I round the corner and come to a halt, Damian paces in front of a door, his hands running down his face.
“Where is Darius?” I ask, and his head flies up, a scowl on his face.
“Doesn’t matter, just leave him be.”
“But—“
“Leave, Rhea. He will come out when he’s ready.”
From where?
I eye the door behind him curiously, wondering where it leads to, but I nod all the same and turn back.
I look over my shoulder and Damian eyes me, leaning back against the door until he’s out of my sight when I turn the corner.
My mind works as I think of one thing.
What could be behind that door that they don’t want me to see?
We move through the tall stalks of grass, retracing the path we took before Darius and his men showed up, heading for my old home. The Elite armor fits me comfortably against my skin, the leather fitting just right on my legs and over my torso. The cloak I have on hides it, no colored straps in sight and the hood and half mask conceal my face. The others are dressed the same, making sure we cannot be traced back to the Elites with their recognizable armor.
Apprehension swirls within me at seeing my old home again. Would it look different or exactly the same? I prefer it to look like something I have never seen before, then I can keep the home I had in my head as a child safe and untainted.
Darius walks alongside me, posture stiff. He’s barely said anything to me since he returned to the dining room after a long while. He can barely look at me, and Dariusalwayslooks at me. Always has his eyes on me when I’m near. I can’t believe his father was one of the men to come to the basement. I haven’t thought much about it, thinking comes with memories, but I know we will need to have a conversation about it at some point. No matter what Darius did to me, I won’t blame him for his father’s sins of standing by and watching what happened to me while doing nothing. And by the looks of it, if he was alive, I’m not sure he would be much longer. The dark mist clinging constantly to Darius’s like a second coat of skin showing how angry he is. It should scare me, wondering if he has some anger toward me, but seeing his power unfurls something familiar and soothing inside of me.
I move closer to him instinctively, waiting for his scent to wrap around me, and then I tentatively reach out to grab his hand. Something inside of me wanting, no, needing to touch him right now. With the feeling like he’s about to explode at any moment, I can’t deny it. He looks down at me sharply when my palm slides along his, confusion in his rage filled eyes until he looks at my small hand holding his large one. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this, maybe this was a mistake. I give his hand a squeeze anyway, feeling my power gently pressing against his before letting go, but he doesn’t let me. He grips it in his own, dragging me into him until he pulls us to a stop in the long grass. The others continue forward, leaving us behind for a moment.
I look up at Darius in question, wondering what he’s doing, when he leans down toward me, the mist sinking back into his skin and disappearing. I hold my breath, feeling like prey in a trap, but when he puts his forehead against mine gently, his eyes open and feeling like he’s seeing my soul resting inside of me, I can’t move.
“This changes nothing,” he tells me, the first words he’s spoken to me. “No matter the past, you still cannot run from me.” I let out an aggravated breath and shake my head at him. Asshole.
His eyes turn dark for a moment, confliction creeping into them before he gently rubs his nose against mine, the action so delicate and so unlike him that my chest warms. The moment is soon gone when he lifts his head, eyes bouncing between mine. Releasing me, he adjusts the hood over my head and continues forward. I touch a hand to my nose beneath the mask, blinking at how that small, gentle touch warmed my whole body and then I follow him, ignoring the flutter in my stomach.
My nerves soon pick up as we reach the hill that overlooks my old home, and I stop and suck in a sharp breath. Memory after memory assaults me. Good, bad, sad, happy. It all feels too much. Cabin after cabin can be seen. The small pond I used to try and catch fish in is glowing under the moonlight. The area in the middle of the village has stalls propped up, ready to sell their wares come morning, and I remember always going there first thing as a child to see if anything new could be found. The wooden statues of where the wolf Gods used to be are no more, just an empty, dirt space instead now. When did they abandon the Gods?
I lift my eyes and see my old home and I shiver. It’s the largest one, big enough to house twelve people. It stands in the back of the village, proud and known to all just exactly what that home is. The Alphas. I pick at my fingers, my gaze unfocused as I take it all in.
