Page 53 of Thorns of Deceit
“Mom!”
My voice cracked, swallowed by the roar. I stumbled forward, eyes streaming, hands outstretched.
“Remember what to do,” she yelled. “Stay away from Aiden Callahan. Let him think you’re dead.”
And then a low rumble shuddered through the house. I was shoved out of the way seconds before the ceiling above cracked.
A deafening roar, a rush of heat, and then nothing. The world went black.
My body lurched upright before I even knew I was awake. A scream tore from my throat, raw and jagged, echoing in the dark.
The visions hit me all at once—flashes of that night, the explosion, the smoke, the firelight licking the walls, my mother’s voice splitting through it all.
“Raven!”
Her scream still rang in my ears, too real, too close.
“Raven, wake the fuck up!”
The world snapped back into place. A face swam into focus through the blur of panic. Not my mother’s, but my friend’s. Her hands gripped my shoulders, firm and warm. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t tell where I was.
My heart battered against my ribs like it wanted out. My skin was slick with sweat; the sheets tangled around my legs, damp and suffocating.
“A-Athena,” I rasped, the name catching like sandpaper in my throat. My mind was still in that house. Still hearing her. Still losing her.
“Jesus, you scared me,” Athena whispered, pulling me into her arms.
“I thought—” I couldn’t finish the thought. The words broke apart in my mouth, replaced by shallow, hiccuping breaths.
“It was just a dream,” she murmured, tightening her hold until I could feel her heartbeat against mine. “You’re in Paris. You’re safe.”
Paris. A continent away from it all. And from him. Aiden Callahan.
I pressed a trembling hand to my chest, feeling the wild rhythm beneath my skin. My shirt clung to me, soaked. A bead of sweat slid down my temple, cooling against the fever of my skin.
Outside, the wind sighed against the windowpane—soft, ghostlike—like distant voices calling through the night.
“Five years,” I whispered. My voice cracked on the words. “It’s been five years.”
Five years since that night. Since I ran. Since I left everything—including her and my husband—behind. But the memories hadn’t stayed buried. They followed me here, through every dream. Her warning still echoed in the corners of my mind.
“Maybe you should talk to someone,” Athena said gently, brushing my hair away from my face. “You’re still carrying it, Raven. After all this time… you should be healing, not… bleeding from the same place.” She hesitated. “Not to mention the heartbreak from that Irish mobster.”
Her words landed like stones. I pulled away, curling my knees to my chest and hiding my face in my hands.
“It’s nothing. Just silly dreams,” I said, though I didn’t believe it. “Therapists can’t stop them. It’d be useless.”
Athena didn’t argue. She just gave me that look—half pity, half patience—but stayed quiet.
I wished I could peel the past off me like wet clothes. Forget the flames, the screams, him.
Aiden Callahan. My husband.
No matter how many years passed, I couldn’t escape the dead nor the living.
NINETEEN
AIDEN
