Page 63 of Iris' Lying Eyes

Maybe it’s for the best that I can’t find her because now I can horde my shame for a little longer.

∞∞∞

The following evening, I wait on the curb with a grim smile. Partying used to be fun until John got in my way.

Now I’m back, older and wiser, ready to unravel the knot that’s choking me.

After my trek through the corn yesterday, I emerged with a raging headache and hopelessness dogging my steps.

Thinking you can bring down evil and staring at it in the form of a pile of dirt are two very different things.

I need help because the deeper I go, the harder it is to face what’s coming.

Which is why I texted Bastion last night, but he never answered. Maybe he doesn’t care. But if he wants the truth, I’m ready to start revealing it.

I shutter my thoughts when a pretty red car pulls up, plastering on a fake smile for Jagger, who leans over Cherry with a fat grin and pushes open the door.

Of course, in Jagger’s pea-sized brain, he thinks he’s pulled one over on John. Guys like him never see beyond their little dicks and god complexes.

Beside him, Cherry smiles, but the affectation slides off her lips, and she closes her wide, dilated eyes. She must be flying really fucking high.

I sit beside her with a mental sigh, but I’m careful to maintain a little distance as if abusing drugs is a disease that transfers via physical contact. Too late for that. I was her once. Hell, in many ways, I still am, but fuck—she’s so young.

Shaking my head, I ignore her dazed expression for Jagger, who’s still looking at me like he’s a fucking criminal mastermind or some shit. With a trickle of annoyance, I glance at the street as he pulls away, saying, “Didn’t think I’d hear from you. Where’s John?”

I stare at my cuticles as I murmur, “I have no idea where the fucker is.”

“Really?” He raises a disbelieving brow, and I smile—with all my teeth. Maybe he thinks we’re pals all of a sudden, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“What? You haven’t spoken to him? He’s your fucking uncle, after all.”

His smile fades at my snide tone, and he cocks his head. “You know I don’t play with that shit no more.”

Hm. Is he testing me? Or does he truly think I’ll believe his lies? He’s just as thirsty as all the rest.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t seen him,” I say with a shrug.

Cherry shifts beside me, her mouth open on a gentle snore. Grimacing, I ask, “What did you give her?”

“Don’t worry about it. I treat my baby just fine.” As if to emphasize his Don Juan status, he slides his hand up her leg, but she’s so out of it, she doesn’t even twitch.

With a flicker of sympathy, I look away. I can’t save everyone, dammit.

Fight Club is packed when we arrive, and I disappear into the masses before Jagger can tempt me. Besides, I’m on borrowed time. Once the truth emerges, I have a feeling all roads are gonna lead back to me.

From my vantage point against the wall, I search the crowd for my target, spotting more than a few people I’d like to avoid.

When we pulled up, I almost refused to come in because I had no desire to see my past, but I couldn’t let my hesitation keep me from my plans. This includes, apparently, a seedy club where dudes fight each other for money.

Still, I relax when I scan the crowd and nothing jumps out at me. Ignoring the flash of disappointment that this includes Bastion, I force my thoughts to more important things. This shouldn’t be more than a footnote, and here I am, giving it the entire page.

Across the way, two dudes wrestle in the ring, and I raise a brow when they break apart and I spy Diem, all muscle and rage, pounding on his opponent with brutal jabs.

His muscles gleam. There isn’t an ounce of fat on his body and sweat clings to his happy trail. He’s a fine specimen, that’s for sure.

Cherry bumps my shoulder, handing me a drink, and I eye her skeptically. Does she really need more?

“I’m glad you’re back,” she says.

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