Page 87 of Iris' Lying Eyes

Chapter Eighteen

The overhead light flips on, and I sit up with a gasp, but I’m not in the woods. I’m surrounded by a sea of pink.

Curling my fingers on the puffy comforter, I suppress a moan when my back spasms in protest.

A dream hovers at the corners of my vision, but I only feel the remnants in the pounding of my heart.

The evening’s events crash over me, and tears fill my eyes when I find Bastion filling the doorframe with his hulking body. I killed a man. It was self-defense but planning murder and carrying it out are two very different things. Not only that, but I almost died.

“B,” I whisper, stepping from the bed. Now that he’s here, the sick feeling coating the back of my throat eases. I have the insane urge to rush into his arms, and this time, I’m going to ignore my propensity for deflection and do it.

“You’re either really fucking stupid or brave,” he says. “I can’t decide which.”

It’s only then that I note he’s staring at me through eyes so dark I shiver. I don’t see recognition and whisper as he approaches the bed, “What?”

He raises a phone clutched in his meaty fists, and I swallow. Oh. Oh fuck.

I didn’t think this one through. Beyond that, I acknowledge the crash of disappointment that makes my legs wobbly. I want something B can’t give, at least not to me.

Raising my hand, I rest my trembling fingers against his chest. He inhales and grabs my wrist, pushing me back.

I stumble but right myself and lift my chin, although I want nothing more than to crawl into a hole and lick my wounds.

“What’s going on?” I ask. Stupid question, but there you have it. I’m not exactly brimming with bright ideas these days.

“Going on?” He tips his head, and the visage is so like his father from just hours ago that I cringe.

I’m not entirely sure that I won’t be fighting off another Bruno today, and my stomach cramps viciously at the thought. Not Bastion. Never.

Licking my lips, I muster a pathetic smile. “Is everything okay?”

Why didn’t I leave when I had the chance? Because deep down, where I refuse to admit these things, I was waiting for Bastion to make it right. Instead, I’m fighting off a lie of someone else’s making, and I haven’t even gotten to the part where his father’s dead body rests out back.

“Why did you do it?” He roars, throwing the phone clenched in his hand against the wall.

My pulse hammers in my throat, and I take a cautious step away from it. Why, I don’t know. It’s not mine, but I guess I’m trying to disassociate from it somehow. It’s pretty damning. I disappeared for two days. I assume the phone, by all appearances, looks to be mine. What can I possibly say?

“I didn’t do anything.” It’s not much for conviction, but it’s all I’ve got. It’s also a lie. I killed his fucking father.

He tips his head toward the ceiling and sucks in a breath, his nostrils flaring. It’s only a momentary reprieve because he seems to come to a decision and reaches for me. Turning, I crawl across the bed, but he’s quick for his size and grabs my leg.

“B,” I cry out as he pulls me back and lays over me.

“Was it to get back at me?” He rasps against my neck.

Sinking into the mattress, I bite back a cry. The mass of bruises on my back pulses at the contact with his chest. Strangely, it doesn’t compare to the ache in my heart. Why does my soul feel like it’s breaking? Because I was stupid, that’s why.

I knew better, and I still believed the lie.

“I didn’t do it,” I say.

“If you didn’t, then how do you know what I’m talking about?” His silky words raise goosebumps on my arms.

I thought Bastion was harder, darker, but this? It’s like he’s not even here. And I’m trapped beneath his body.

Shaking my head. I whisper, “Roman.”

His entire body stiffens, and I shudder. Oh shit. “Please—”

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