Page 7 of Broken Skulls (Rebel Skull MC #7)

Chapter Six

Lizzie

T he music stops.

I lie in silence trying to process what I’m feeling.

It’s … it’s …

I bolt upright, my heart racing as I clutch my hands to my chest. Oh god, I can’t breathe.

“What’d you think of that one?” the voice calls out.

“I can’t breathe,” I pant, stumbling to the floor and over to the little box on the wall.

He’s quiet for a minute. “Are you sick?” he asks.

“Panic attack,” I manage to grit out.

“Did the music trigger you?”

My hand traces the frame of the box, kneeling in front of it … my own little confessional.

“I … I liked the music a lot,” I admit shamefully.

“And that triggered you? I’m confused.”

My forehead falls to the cool wood. “It made me feel good. I don’t want to feel good.”

“Why not?”

I take a deep breath, trying to slow the beating of my heart. I suppose it would be okay to tell him. I’ve never told anyone.

I couldn’t. But she’s safe now.

“Lizzie? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” I answer quietly.

“Tell me why you don’t want to feel good.”

“Why are you feeding me and playing music? Are you trying to trick me into trusting you? You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Not my style,” he jokes from the other side.

How I know it’s a joke I don’t know, but I’m certain he’s teasing me.

“Well then, what are you doing with me?”

“Think of it as a reset. A rebirth.”

The tightness in my chest loosens a little, and I settle my butt on the floor, leaning back against the wall. I take a deep breath. “I’m so confused.”

“I understand that not everyone deserves to feel good. Some don’t deserve to feel anything at all.”

My heart starts to beat fast again. Maybe this man is connected to one of Dr. Williams’ victims. Maybe he is one.

“I know what you did.”

He knows?

“What I want to know is why?” he asks.

“Why?”

“Why you kept quiet. Why you covered for him. Why you went against every fiber of your being to protect someone you despised.”

“I …”

What can I say? I can’t deny any of it.

When I don’t tell him what he wants to know, he sighs loudly before speaking. “You don’t get to decide what you deserve anymore.”

I groan, grabbing my stomach when the music begins to play again.

“You tried to throw your life away by tossing it over a cliff,” he says calmly.

He doesn’t say it in an admonishing way, just as a matter of fact.

“Now it belongs to me.”