Page 118 of Iris' Lying Eyes

Instead, I roll over to search for some water and find Rain sitting next to me. She presses a button on the bed, and I push to a seated position before she hands me the cup.

I ignore her stare and take a few sips before leaning my head against the pillow.

Truthfully, with Sam gone, I’m a little lost. I spent so much time weaving the lies and playing the games to protect him, and now I don’t know what to do.

“How do you feel?” Rain asks.

“Peachy,” I mumble.

“Iris—”

“Save it. You with your sanctimonious bullshit.” Rubbing my eyes, I stare at my fingernails before dropping my hands with a sigh. The pretense is exhausting. Everything is fucking exhausting.

Touching my hand, she says, “I’m sorry. We tried.”

I wrench away, my skin crawling. “Tried what?”

“To find you, but—”

What the fuck is she talking about? Find me where? Raising my eyes to hers, I stare blankly and say, “You lied. You all lied.”

Don’t they get it? I sacrificed my soul for Sam because that was my job, and I don’t regret it, but knowing I failed and that he was ripped away . . . It’s eating at my skin like acid, eroding the last remnants of humanity clinging to my soul. I feel like a dead woman walking. I am a dead woman walking.

Rain shifts and raises her troubled brown eyes, much like mine, save the fact she’s a fucking innocent. She’ll never know what it means to fuck a dick for the sole burning purpose of keeping another alive. “We just wanted to help you,” she says.

“Help me?” The pain, the motherfucking pain I shoved into a box all those years ago, peeks through, and I suck in a breath, slashing my hand through the air. “Never mind. It’s my own damn fault anyway.”

She wipes her eyes, and I curl my hand into a fist. I have nothing left to give, but even if I did, my pity wouldn’t be for her.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she says, but I’ve already checked out of the conversation when I turn my head away and say, “For what?”

Bastion meets my hard stare, and I smile coolly. I know this is my fault. The bones that rested beside me in that fucking hole were not fresh, meaning Sam’s been dead a lot longer than these fuckers even knew of his existence.

Still, he betrayed me in the worst possible way. He gave me hope, and then he stomped on it with his big-ass shoe.

“For not being there,” Rain says, and I search my brain for what we were talking about before shrugging. “Whatever. You being there wouldn’t have changed a goddamn thing. John’s dead. Tell that fucker I don’t owe him shit. Blood is clearly thinner than his fucking heart,” I say.

Bastion’s brows flap over his eyes before he frowns.

“Who?” Rain asks, and I bare my teeth, feeling no joy when Bastion flinches.

“McCafferty. That old bastard.”

From the corner of my eye, I see her lean forward, but I’m not done with the stare-off between Bastion and me. I want him to feel the rage and pain that’s consuming my veins. I want him to drown under the grief and guilt that’s pushing at my lungs. I want him to fucking hurt like he’s never hurt before.

After all, he’s the one who convinced me that he cared. His betrayal stings the most.

Bastion raises a brow, and I huff. “You think that old dick didn’t know what he was doing?”

“Meaning what?” Rain asks, leaning over the bed.

Sighing long and loud to ensure she understands my displeasure, I say, “The fucker is my grandfather.”

“Huh? Iris, what the fucking fuck?” Rain growls.

Laughing bitterly, I roll onto my back. “It’s not like it’s done me much fucking good. I went to him when I was desperate, thinking he’d at least help because I’m family. But it didn’t matter. Paddy doesn’t fucking care about blood. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. I should’ve gutted John when I was fifteen.”

Rain is silent while she processes my words. Yes, I sent a message to McCafferty because I hoped he could save Sam and me, but I sacrificed my mom for the effort. And then Finnen came along, and Paddy McCafferty became nothing but an old man with a grudge.

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