Page 123 of Forgotten Sacrifice

Aldo snorts a laugh. “God forbid we get in our feels.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

He sighs dramatically. “Where’s Luna when I need her?”

“She’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

Why does everyone keep asking this fucking question? “Away. Absent. Departed.”

Aldo rolls his eyes. “Your love of a thesaurus is really?—”

“Irksome. Meddlesome. Vexatious.”

He slugs me in the shoulder.

“See, I knew you wanted to hit me.”

“Whyis Luna gone?” he presses.

“I’m not talking about Luna.”

My brother looks at me knowingly. “Cause you’d definitely be in your feels.”

I chug the bottle until it’s empty.

Nope. Can’t feel a thing. Not with Luna clawing my heart out and taking it with her.

Chapter

Forty-Six

Luna

I wish the events of the past forty-eight hours were all a dream, but the harsh morning light slicing through my bedroom window in my new apartment reminds me otherwise.

I trudge to the bathroom and use the toilet. Washing my hands, I look at myself in the mirror. My queen tattoo reflects back at me in cruel mockery, and the words “I’m good enough” get stuck in my throat.

I’m not a queen in a game of kings, but a pawn. Used by everyone in my life for their own endgame.

But Vince? His betrayal hurts the worst, because I let it happen. Fucking watched myself make the biggest blunder—falling in love with him—and then acted surprised when the man checkmated me.

I move to my new kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets until I find a box of cereal. Grabbing the milk from the fridge, I pour myself a bowl. Milk first, like a psycho,apparently. Taking a seat in the eerily quiet kitchen, I bring the spoon to my mouth, making a face.

It tastes…bland.

I fling my cereal bowl across the kitchen; it crashes against the wall, with milk splattering everywhere.

Screaming in frustration, I march over to the mess, squatting down and picking up a jagged piece of the broken bowl. The urge to cut myself becomes overwhelming.

I drop it and grab my phone from the table, calling Nicky.

“Morning.” She answers.

“I want to cut myself so bad,” I whisper.

“Do you have something sharp in your hand right now?” she asks calmly.