Page 3 of Havoc

I’m going to gut every last one of them.

When Aimee reaches the bottom step, my feet move on their own to bring me closer to her.

Fourteen years since this girl disappeared from my life, and I still can’t deny her pull.

Fourteen years since she dangled hope on that beautiful thread and then ripped it away, but I still can’t help that my heart begs me to be closer.

“Aimee.” I swallow hard, and I feel Legacy and Reagan’s attention turn.

Fourteen years.

Fourteen fucking years without a word.

I stare down into those honey-brown eyes and hate her for every second. And yet, I can’t stop staring.

“Levi.” Aimee’s chin juts up, and even if she’s tall, I’m a foot taller. “You came back.”

It takes me a moment to nod. But I don’t speak.

I can’t.

My tongue swells, and my blood is fire in my veins.

Aimee’s gaze falls to where I’m rubbing the hourglass tattooed on the back of my ring finger, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Her eyes lift, and with a final, empty stare, she simply turns and walks away.

The girl who broke my fucking heart just walks away like I’m nothing. Like she didn’t make a hundred promises and break them the second I tried to live up to mine.

Maybe I shouldn’t blame her with what she might have been through recently. But I can’t think about that. I can’t think about anything, or I might not survive another second from how my heart has nearly stopped beating in my chest.

So I don’t.

I watch her walk away and say nothing.

After all, it’s not the first time I’ve seen her do it.

2

Aimee

Three Weeks Later

My arms and thighsburn as I arch my back and tiptoe until my spine won’t bend any farther. Blood rushes to my head, and my mind empties of anything but the sun hanging high in the sky.

A slight breeze caresses my skin and rustles my hair.

Strands fall from my failed attempt at a ponytail, poking me in the eyes when I arch a little more. One of the downsides of chopping off my long hair a few months ago is that it’s harder to tie it off my face now. But something about taking scissors to those strands was like severing a tie I’d spent over a decade holding on to. Reclaiming who I am before I came back to this awful city.

A city filled to the brim with memories and ghosts.

My bridge crumbles at the thought. My hands slip, and I land hard on my yoga mat. The sting radiates through my back as I stare up at the Las Vegas sky.

Nothing but sunshine, even in early November.

After a decade of trying to forget this city, I’m still adjusting to the harsh reality of being back here. The moment I stepped off the bus, I was reminded why I’ve avoided Vegas. The grumble of a motorcycle at a distance froze me in place.

No matter how long it’s been or how far I’ve gone, one sound is all it takes to bring me back to being an eighteen-year-old girl locked in a room in chains.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and rest my hand on my stomach, waiting for it to settle. For the thoughts to dissipate until I’m grounded here.