Page 34 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)
“A waitress. A civilian. A damn girl who can run her mouth at any given moment if you so much as piss her off.” He’s yelling now, the way people do when their worlds start slipping through their fingers.
And there’s that pacing again. Why do people do that when they’re worked up?
More specifically, Sharkie and Caspian. It’s as if their constant movement will somehow help them piece everything together, but it won’t.
I can hardly comprehend how this happened myself, and it’s my life.
“She doesn't know anything,” I say under my breath.
“She knows more than she needs to! She knows where the base is, our faces, our names. What were you thinking?”
My brows furrow, and my jaw clenches. I know I should keep my mouth shut and just take it. Deep down, I knew this confrontation would come; it’s just happening at the wrong time.
“Everything our father built, all our progress—it can all end here! Have you even thought about how this will affect our team? Our world? Us?” His voice keeps rising, louder and louder, bouncing off the walls and echoing in my ears as if it will engrave itself in my mind.
It’s not fair. I’m not saying that as some petty person sulking in self-pity; I truly mean it .
“No,” I shoot back. “No, I thought about her like Sam did when he let Jasmine stay. She was a civilian. She lied. What’s the difference?”
“The difference is you didn’t think about this faction! You didn’t think about the mission! You didn’t think about me, about Sam, about our family! ” He’s pacing, ranting, and I’m drowning in it. Like always though, he can't hear me.
“Neither did you! You fell in love with the person who killed our father! Did you think about our parents when you did that? Did you think about me when you killed my mother for the fucking enemy?!”
He stops pacing, his brow furrowing as if he doesn’t understand how I could ever let those words fall out of my mouth.
Then his gaze darts to Cordelia. I don’t even dare to look at her; hell, I can hardly look at him.
All I can do is stare at the screen past his head.
It’s as if Raylen’s face is taunting me, that half-smile mocking me with something I may never have as I throw away everything I’ve ever known.
Caspian’s breathing grows heavier, his glare locked on mine. But it’s not just anger anymore; it’s something else: pain. The kind that makes your hands shake when no one’s watching. The kind that keeps you awake long after the war ends.
“You crossed a line,” he says, barely above a whisper now. “And the worst part is—you don’t even see it.”
Yes, I do. God, if he only knew how well I recognize it. If only he understood just how deep into a spiral this has thrown me. Before I can answer, the monitors flicker behind him.
One camera feed lights up. It’s the grainy footage from outside the bar.
The frame catches me crouched beside my car, Raylen cornered against her vehicle, Dale stumbling back with a glint of silver at his side.
The angle is just wide enough to show Bill’s flashlight sweeping the lot, Raylen’s car speeding off, my slow stand, and the draw of my gun.
I can’t stop staring as it plays, almost as if it’s in slow motion. Cordelia’s head turns, her eyes wide, and Caspian’s gaze follows.
“What is that?” Caspian asks, his voice low.
I stay silent. The audio is cut, but the visuals are enough: Bill ducking, me running, Dale being tackled to the ground.
“ Damn it ,” Caspian mutters, his eyes fixed on the screen.
He turns slowly, his face pale but his jaw set tight.
“You did this… for her .” It’s not a question. His voice is calm, but something in it unravels with each word.
“I did it because she was hurt ,” I reply sharply. “Because he touched her. Because someone had to make sure no one was afraid of him again.”
“You framed him,” Caspian snaps. “You orchestrated the entire thing.”
“I protected her. He was going to be brought in at some point anyway,” I growl.
“No,” he says flatly. “You compromised everything. ”
His chest rises and falls just as fast as it has been but his eyes soften as they stay locked onto mine.
“For her,” he repeats. Something shifts in his gaze as he flicks his focus to Cordelia and then back to me. I can’t tell what it is—confusion, understanding, or hurt?
Cordelia moves between us, placing a hand on his arm. “Cas, come on. You know this isn’t the way. He’s not thinking clearly. Neither of you are—”
“He is thinking clearly. That’s what scares me,” he snaps.
“He needs to understand. She doesn’t belong in this world, and this” he gestures to the monitor “is the consequence of dragging her into it.”
He turns to me fully now, expression unreadable except for the flicker in his eyes. It’s the grief I always forget he carries. For Dad. For Mom.
Now for me.
“I should have taught you better. This is my fault,” he murmurs. “But now you’ll finish what you started. Clean up your mess. You wanted him gone?”
He gestures toward the monitor with a nod.
“ Go, ” he says, taking a breath that sounds physically painful. “Dale’s in the cell block. You put him there. Now clean it up.”
He turns away, hands on his hips. Cordelia’s gaze flicks between us, her face pale.
“Moe, you're going through something. We can get you help—” she tries to speak, but Caspian cuts her off without looking back.
“He’s going to be a demon that haunts you.”
“No,” I say quietly. “I’m going to feed him to the sharks and move on.”
His hands drop to the desk and his head drops between his shoulders, the pain in his stance mirroring my own. He’s all I’ve known since our parents died… since his parents died. Now it feels as if we hardly know each other at all, and it’s my fault.
Cordelia steps behind him, hesitantly placing a hand on his back as she glances at me. I can’t meet her gaze, so I turn away, determined to finish what I started, even though I’m almost certain this whole ordeal will be the thing that finishes me .
The hallway is silent.
The deeper I go, the colder it gets—concrete walls narrowing, light flickering. Every step echoes like a countdown. Dale is being held in one of the side cells near the interrogation room. Temporary holding. That was the deal; the cover. Now, I’m rewriting the ending.
I punch in the override code, and the lock clicks, letting the door hiss open.
Dale looks up from the bench where he’s slouched, his eye swollen, lip split from whatever Caspian and Sam’s warm welcome was. His wrists are chained to the wall, yet he still has the nerve to smile as though this is just another bar game.
“I figured it was you coming back for your scraps,” he mutters.
The light flickers behind me as I step in, reminiscent of the way it did in the warehouse where I first learned what violence could do when it’s personal.
“Do you remember the sound she made when you touched her? Because I do,” I breathe, crouching in front of him. “I hear it when I try to sleep.”
“Is that what this is over? That girl?” He laughs, spitting blood, leaning forward to get nose to nose with me, as if he’s mocking me even though he’s the one who’s locked up, busted and bruised.
“She really screamed that night—”
He doesn’t even have time to finish the thought.
I swing hard, the first punch splitting his brow open.
The next blow cracks a tooth free. Then I hit him again.
And again. Until the chains rattle from the force of his body slamming into them.
Until blood starts to pool around the edges of his boots.
Until he finally goes silent.
I grab him by the shirt collar, yanking his head up so I can see his face, swollen and nearly unrecognizable now.
“She doesn’t scream anymore,” I whisper. “Not unless I ask her to.”
My blade slides free from my waistband with a whisper, and slices cleanly across his neck without hesitation.
He twitches once. Twice. Then goes still.
I drop the blade beside his body and stand over him, chest heaving, blood soaking the front of my shirt, darting my tongue to wet my lip. It tastes like copper, vengeance, and rot.
I turn back toward the exit, but I don’t feel lighter. If anything, I feel heavier because even though Dale’s gone, his ghost still lingers and now I have to carry that weight… alone.
Because the moment I chose her, I lost all of them.