Page 6 of Tempt Me (Dark Odyssey 4)

The light of hope in her eyes goes out and a dimness takes its place.

A stab of guilt tugs at my dead heart but I push it away. It’s something I can’t entertain, definitely not right now.

I turn and leave without another word.

I jump on my bike full of rage when I think of Mark and what the fuck this night will bring.

Like a beast I ride with animalistic fury, death on my mind.

Chapter One

Ava

2 hours earlier…

I open the apartment door, and my heart lifts when I hear the shuffle coming from the living room.

Rushing inside, I see him. Dad.

He looks a mess, but he’s here.

My poor, terrified heart leaps with joy and relief and at the same time it shudders when he grabs the gun from the table and tries to point it at me.

When he sees it’s me though, a bewildered look floods his face and a tear runs down his cheek.

“Oh God, Ava… Jesus.” He winces, his hands shaking so much he drops the gun, and it clanks against the wooden floor.

I’m too happy to see him to worry about the gun. I rush over to him and wrap my arms around him.

“Dad, where were you? God… wherewereyou?” I cry. Three days. I’ve been looking for him for the last three days and cursing myself for leaving him on Sunday when we had dinner and argued.

When I couldn’t find him, I thought the worst happened. I truly did.

“Ava, you have to leave me,” he says, pulling away. His usually vibrant green eyes are brimming with panic, terror even.

Something’s happened. Something more. And he’s high.

“Dad, why? Where have you been?” I demand. “I’ve been worried sick. You’re using again… aren’t you?”

His pupils are dilated like the usual drug addict, and he reeks of alcohol.

Fuck… Who knows what the drugs must be doing to a man of his age. He’s nearly sixty-seven. He used to be healthy and a man who would never turn to drugs, but life has been so cruel to us.

To him.

“Ava, please, you need to go. Leave me. I can’t have you here, not now, sweet girl. Please, just listen to me. Please,” he begs.

I shake my head, and he runs a hand through his thick graying hair. Bloodshot eyes stare back at me with the same plea for me to leave, but I’m not going anywhere. I shouldn’t have left him in the first place.

I don’t mean Sunday. No. I mean I shouldn’t have moved out after Sasha was killed.

Dad didn’t live here then. In this dank and dinky little apartment.

We had a house. A home he provided for us to live in as a family. Then he lost it when drugs infiltrated his life.

I shouldn’t have listened to him and believed he would be okay by himself. How could he have been okay? With his last son dead and me gone.How?

I was a coward, and like everything, I blamed myself for it. Maybe I left because I could no longer face him. The pain was too much. It’s hard to blame yourself for everything whether it happens as a direct result of your actions or not.

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