Page 39 of Behind the Shadows
Mother’s words whispered in the darkest corners of my mind, and my pulse jumped. Mother always had a way of twisting the truth. She’d give me enough to bait me, then turn the knife she’d plunged into my chest. What if it was true about Holland? What if she was lying?
I kneaded the back of my neck, feeling the tension coil and constrict my muscles like a tightening noose. My nostrils flared wide as flashbacks of Samantha assaulted me, flickering relentlessly like an old, grainy, black-and-white film reel. Mother was right—I was consumed, possessed. Samantha had been oblivious to my covert surveillance at school, unaware of the countless times I’d shadowed her every step, trailing her at a distance. Yet, that evening when she and her parents had arrived at our place … We were young. Teens. The thoughts slammed into my chest like a freight train, leaving me gasping for air as I relived the scene.
I gripped the steering wheel with a vise-like hold as blood seemed to explode across my hands and knuckles, painting them crimson.
“Fuck. No.” My nostrils flared as I attempted to dismiss the sensation. It couldn't be real. Anger started to simmer deep within me. If my mother wasn't lying, and the nightmares and hallucinations were true, then how was it possible Holland didn't remember me? She had touched and kissed me, and then … Beads of sweat formed on my forehead as her ghostly image swirled in my mind.
As I drove down her street, I vowed that I would get the answers I needed from her. I was fed up with being manipulated. If she thought I was messed up, I was ready to reveal exactly how fucked up I really was. I’d give her tons to unravel in her counseling sessions.
I parked in her driveway and noticed her car wasn't in the garage, which was unusual since she always parked there.
Hurrying up the walkway, I rang the doorbell.
A few seconds later, the door cracked open, the chain stretching tight against the frame. The light glinted off the handgun she pressed to her side, her eyes wide.
“Kip, I wasn’t expecting you.” She disappeared for a minute, then the sound of the chain sliding against the door caught my attention. Seconds later she stood in front of me.
My pulse faltered and I found myself tongue-tied like a nervous teenager at a loss for words. Her red hair cascaded down her shoulders, and she wore a loose-fitting white Whitmore College sweatshirt paired with matching shorts. Just one glance at her made me question everything I’d been mulling over during the drive. Extracting secrets, confronting her betrayal and lies, seeking vengeance—it all seemed to dissolve as soon as I saw her.Get it together—she's playing you, manipulating you like your mother did.With that thought, a fire burned inside me to make her pay.
She gave me a tired smile. “Hey.” Holland opened the door and motioned for me to come in.
Her red swollen eyes told me she’d been crying.
“What’s wrong? Did Cooper come after you again?” The hair on the back of my neck bristled as the thought of him laying a hand on her a second time pissed me the fuck off.Get a grip, man.
I was a man possessed. One minute, I wanted to bury myself in Holland and fuck her until the sun came up, the next, I wanted to kill anyone who touched her.Mine.
“I wasn’t expecting you after the text.” She folded her arms across her chest, pushing her gorgeous tits up. My cock sprang to life as I recalled seeing her naked and on display for me the other night as I fucked her with my cross. I stopped myself from reaching for the necklace. If she had any recollection of what I’d done to her with it, she would know it had been me the moment she saw it. Eventually, Holland would come to understand that her monster was her savior, but she could never run from me.
“Answer me.” I stepped closer to her, backing her against the wall. Instead of seeing fear in her expression, I saw hunger, pain, and desperation. I reached up and dragged my knuckles down her cheek.
My fingers wrapped around her throat.
Not hard. Just enough for her to feel it. To know she was mine.
Her brow quirked but not in alarm. There was something else behind that look. Trust?
Suddenly, the room blurred, air thinned, and my ears buzzed like a hive of bees. The memory slammed into me before I could stop it.
Blood on the carpet. Her father screaming.
She was crying. A girl. Red hair soaked in redder blood.
“Why don’t you remember?” I whispered.
She blinked. “What?”
She kissed me in the dark once. Or did I imagine it? I tasted copper. Her lips. A sob that wasn’t mine.
I pressed closer, my body shaking. “You know who I am.”
“Kip, I?—”
She begged me not to let go. She screamed. I screamed louder.
“You said you’d never forget,” I gritted out.
I was on my knees, my hands covered in blood, shaking?—
