Page 1 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

Moe

Fae's Diner

What is fucking war?

It’s a joke; that’s what it is. All the lives lost and places destroyed for what? Revenge? Power?

That makes total sense.

Even if it doesn’t make sense to me, it does to my entire faction.

It’s exactly why our military societies were created in the first place: to prevent chaos and protect the world.

It's ironic, considering I've witnessed two wars caused by us in my eighteen years of life, along with a lot of other bullshit issues that get swept under the rug as if they never happened—because, for most people, it didn’t .

From a young age, I was taught that everything we do within our military faction is top secret.

Only a select few—trusted law enforcement, world government officials, and other factions like ours—know our name or purpose, which limits our interaction with civilians.

If you risk forming relationships with them, you must prioritize your duty, effectively living a double life.

But what’s the point?

Is it to prevent mass panic? To protect people from the bloodshed and death that comes with it? Or is it simply because we're selfish assholes who don't want people to see the pedestal we put ourselves on?

Movement by the long bar littered with civilians chatting over their meals catches my attention, reminding me why I love this place: Fae's Diner. It’s my escape from our suffocating lifestyle.

Is suffocating the right word? Maybe lonely?

No… It's killer, constantly making you feel like you’re flirting with death, unable to call for help, so suffocating might be the perfect fit.

Sam, my brother's best friend and right-hand man, brought me here years ago after an unfortunate incident. It wasn’t Caspians' fault he was having a nightmare or that my throat was the closest thing he could find while in a panicked dream, but being only fourteen at the time, it left me in a state where I couldn’t bring myself to think or talk.

Sam showed me the best meals on the menu and talked me through coping mechanisms, which, might I add, aren't all that healthy, but hey, he tried.

A for effort or whatever the fuck it is they say.

Honestly, his fucked up ways of watching others in their natural habitats is somewhat soothing, so yeah, I guess he does deserve an A.

Taking a deep breath, my eyelashes flutter, and my head tilts back at the delicious aroma of freshly baked apple crumble.

The light chatter from the old green leather does little to draw my attention away from the scent; instead, the soothing sounds of people calmly enjoying their meals help to ease my frazzled mindset.

I suppose I can blame my rough day for everything feeling so overwhelming.

Murdering your grandfather and watching your biological mom bleed out because your brother killed her might be called a reason to be locked away somewhere, confined, and maybe crying.

Yet I can’t bring myself to dwell on the people I had always been curious about being so lifeless.

The only thing I keep reliving is the moment I thought about pulling the trigger on the only living relative I have left.

Adoptive relative. I have to remind myself that I wasn't wanted by the psychopaths who were supposed to be my family. No, I was tossed on a doorstep on enemy territory with the hopes that they'd do the dirty work for them.

I wish someone would ask me if I regret that they’re dead.

It’d be a good laugh for today.

Does that make me crazy ?

I scoff but quickly turn my head back toward the bar and clear my throat to cover the sound.

A woman behind the counter hunches over, a rag in hand, her lip tucked between her teeth.

Streaks of red in her dark hair frame her furrowed brows as she wipes a spot on the counter—one, two, three times.

Jesus, she’s still going, so I refuse to count any further.

Doesn’t she realize it’s not coming up? My brows furrow as her focus remains fixed on the stain, utterly oblivious to everything else, as if the world around her has faded into white noise.

If it were anyone else I know, their trained instincts would have sensed my gaze by now, but she remains blissfully unaware, constantly swiping at the spot.

“When we get to America, I’m getting you a whole case of cosmic brownies. You’ll get addicted and might be as pissed as I was when I realized they’re not sold here.”

Cordelia, who goes by the callsign Sharkie, catches my attention as she continues the playful banter we started when we first walked into this place not long ago.

We're discussing the quirkiest foods and the differences between American and UK cultures.

She squints her ocean-blue eyes and tilts her head curiously, letting her wavy brown hair fall over her shoulder, the longer I stay silent.

I want to respond, but a beacon behind the bar is begging for my attention.

Finally, my mind catches up, and I open my mouth to speak, but then she glances at my brother, her boyfriend, Caspian—better known as Tide—who seems lost in thought. It’s been a hell of a day, so I have no doubt he’s just as dazed as I am.

The only difference is that I’m better at hiding my internal conflict.

“Are you even listening?” Cordelia snaps at Caspian, and I can't help but smirk at her boldness in confronting the oh-so-intimidating Colonel.

My attention is drawn away, however, by a girl walking toward us.

She bobs her head along to the classic song playing over the static speakers while balancing a tray in her hand .

“Huh?” Caspian hums, but I don’t turn back to the conversation. Instead, I tilt my head to catch the girl’s attention as she focuses on the beverages sloshing in their mugs.

She’s pretty. Not in the way girls are on our base; all of them are too toned with tight waists, muscled calves, and all too much care for their appearance. This girl, however, is soft in all the right places, with flour on her apron and dark makeup around her eyes.

I know every worker in this diner—their schedules, families, and histories—but I don’t know her .

I'd remember if I'd seen her here before, and it's not because I'll study something until it is engraved into my brain. It’s simply because forgetting a face like that would be hard. She’s stunning, like the sound of thunder rolling over waves. No , she’s beautiful like raindrops on wilted petals.

Fuck even that doesn't do her justice. I squint as her nose ring tilts with a scrunch of her nose, trying to find anything worthy of being compared to her.

“Thank you,” I murmur, curious to know if her voice is as enchanting as she appears, while she places napkins on the table.

Her eyes glance toward mine as she sets our mugs on each little piece of paper.

They aren’t dark like her makeup; instead, they are bright and so green that I almost convince myself I’m dreaming—there’s no way a color could be this vibrant.

Her mouth tilts slightly, but it isn’t a full smile before she completely turns away with a mouth-watering sway of her hips.

I take a drink of the water, trying to combat the sudden dryness of my mouth.

“Hear that, Moe? You get to name our new task force,” Cordelia chimes in, breaking me from the mesmerizing sight.

I reluctantly set down my glass, fighting back an annoyed groan.

She’s referring to the changes that will occur following our latest conflict.

The war between land and sea finally ended today with the whole family fiasco.

You see, Cordelia was our enemy just yesterday.

She had been sent onto our territory weeks ago by another faction called Bay with the intention of destroying us, Depth.

However, my brother took her captive. One thing led to another, and they ultimately decided to fight together to bring an end to the war.

Don't ask me how that happened. I don't know, and I'm not about to spend time studying case files to figure it out.

All I know is it's in my genetics to fuck things up, considering it was my grandfather who led the last war and my mother who started the one before that.

Now that it's done, Caspian and Sharkie want to combine our militaries into one, which is a logical move; it's just exhausting.

I keep my expression neutral as the disgustingly cute couple have a stare-down like they can't decide if they want to kill or fuck each other. Despite the bile rising in my throat from the sight, I’m happy for my brother.

After everything we’ve endured, he deserves some calm amidst the chaos.

We may not be blood, but we lost and grieved the same parents.

He stepped up too soon to fill our father's shoes in our base and my life. I couldn’t care less about the little task I've been given–anyone can name a team–but seeing that smile on his ugly face makes a genuine one of my own form.

“Best birthday gift ever.”

I wish I could give more genuine ones to the people who deserve them, but the world is a shitty place, and quite frankly, I'm a selfish, greedy person who doesn’t want to share the little bit of happiness I have left in me.

Silence grows at the table, and my eyes lock onto Caspian, who stares back like he just saw a ghost.

“Your orders?”

I swear, my knees shake at how incredibly sweet that voice sounds. I want to glance at the waitress again to see if I've finally captured her attention, but of course, I can't tear my focus away from my brother. I refuse to let him have a heart attack right now and ruin my pickup lines.

Cordelia begins naming the most random items from the menu. Once I make sure that Caspian is going to keep breathing, I can't help but chime in. I occasionally find myself glancing at the woman and grinning wider each time her pen hesitates on the pad in her hand, trying to keep up .

“I’m so sorry, Moe. I—” Caspian starts as the lady quickly rushes off again, his mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the right words.

“Oh, shut it, it's okay. I'm going to choose the most badass name.” I huff, trying to change the subject. He nods, but it’s not convincing that he’ll actually let himself calm down.

I really don’t care that he forgot; seriously, who could remember after the day we’ve had?

He’s too hard on himself, and I wish I could make it easier for him, but every time I try, I think I only make it worse.

Rain splatters against the window pane next to our booth, the darkness intensifying as clouds cover the moon, giving no sense of time and making it easier to get lost in thoughts of all the ways I can try to make up for my earlier thoughts about shooting, even if he doesn’t realize that was my thought process.

I don’t know why my finger flexed on that trigger or why all I could think about was how he took the woman who was supposed to love me most from this world. He did what he had to do. He protected us and kept us all safe. My jaw clenches along with my fist under the table.

He took a life that I wanted to take for myself.

Fuck. No . I don’t want to hurt anyone. I'm not like them.

“Here…” That amazing voice comes again, so I look at the pretty girl placing plates around the booth. I swear, Caspian and Cordelia are saying something, but I can’t look away because for the first time since those thoughts started coming, I feel like I can take a proper breath.

“Thank you.” I smile genuinely, hoping for a proper response this time. Her nose scrunches again as she nervously reaches for her collar, drawing my attention to the crooked nameplate against her chest.

“Raylen,” I mutter, tasting her name on my tongue, and fuck does it taste better than chocolate chip pancakes.

“You're welcome—” She pauses, letting go of the collar to wiggle her finger, trying to pull my focus up. I’m sure she thinks I’m staring at her chest, which is undeniably very nice, but that’s not it.

It’s the small bit of purple at the base of her neck fading into blue, almost like a bruise.

My focus shifts to the exposed length of her arms, only to find more minor marks scattered over them.

I don’t know where the urge to interrogate her comes from, but it’s there. However, that desire quickly fades, and my mind goes blank as my gaze shifts and locks onto hers. Raylen raises an eyebrow, a smirk forming at the corner of her mouth, revealing the white of her teeth.

It’s like looking at sunshine; her smile is so bright.

Fuck, that's it.

She’s gorgeous, like storm clouds that split to let a ray of light peak through and illuminate the destruction it caused.

“Moe,” I reply with a nod of my head.

Just as quickly as that bright, beaming face appeared, it vanished, replaced by hard-furrowed brows and a tight jaw.

“Monster.”

I jerk my head back in surprise at her one-word response.

I had expected something like, “Nice to meet you,” or maybe she would ask for my number—any form of everyday small talk that would allow me to learn more about her, charm her, and test out that double life most people on base adopt when they want something fresh from the outside.

“You’re a monster.” Raylen specifies as she gestures toward my glass sitting on the table, cutting off my thoughts. Condensation forms on the spot, creating a ring similar to the one she was wiping earlier.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” There’s no fighting back the laugh that erupts from my chest as I fix the setting.

Looking at her from the corner of my eye, I give one of my boyish grins, hoping to get another smile from her.

I can draw one from anyone, but it's almost like she purposely keeps hers hidden.

Good thing I'm always down for a challenge; it makes the reward all the sweeter.

“Don’t let it happen again,” she hums.

“And if I do?”

Her perfectly red-painted lips part, but nothing comes out. Instead, she narrows her eyes and turns on her heel, leaving nothing but the smell of lemons to linger in my space.

Even if she’s out of sight, slipping through a swinging wood door into the kitchen, there’s no way I can get her out of my mind.

There's so much darkness around her–it's in the makeup she wears, the grumpy frown on her lips, and even the way she speaks, yet it's like she's beaming. It's so different from everyone around me. For once, I’m not questioning every move I made today, nor am I lost in the chaos of my life. She’s the definition of a dream come true, and I don’t intend for this to be the last moment I get to enjoy her.

My little ray of sunshine might be right because I fully intend to become the monster lurking under her bed.