Page 46 of King of Pain (Damaged Hearts #1)

Broken Wings

Chance

The wind howls outside the cabin, rattling the windows like it’s trying to claw its way in. I sit near the wood-burning fireplace, staring into the flickering flames, my hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that’s long gone cold.

It’s been a year.

A year since my life tipped upside-down.

One year since I disappeared from Arizona, leaving everything—and him—behind.

The cabin is small and simple, tucked deep in the woods somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. I stopped asking where exactly I was the day I got here.

It didn’t matter. My world shrank the moment I stepped inside this place, reduced to a handful of square feet and the trees that surround me like a cage.

The isolation should’ve gotten easier by now. Days blend into each other—an endless repetition of chopping firewood, reading, and listening to the wind scream through the trees.

But it hasn’t gotten easier.

I miss Ant.

I think about him every day, his face etched into my mind like a photograph I can’t stop staring at. I can still hear his voice, sweet and sincere. I still see the way he’d roll his eyes when I said something stupid, the way his lips would twitch like he was fighting a smile.

I miss the way he made me feel—like I was living out loud.

I miss Little G, too. That big, goofy bundle of love with his wagging tail and wide, slobbery grins. I miss his warmth, the way he’d curl up between us on the couch or nudge us with his nose when he wanted attention.

I miss sharing my space with them both. The smell of Ant’s cooking, the music he’d hum to as he danced around the kitchen, the sight of him stretched out on the couch with Guinness snoring at his feet. And then, in those final days… him stretched out in my bed. Our bed.

Hell, I even miss Devil Records.

I miss Lexi and Jen and their snarky banter.

And I miss the one person I’d be talking to about all of this—Ma.

She would hate this. Hate that I’ve been ripped away from the life she fought to give me.

A life that, in the end, cost her everything.

I’ll never forgive myself for that.

This cabin isn’t home. It’s nothing like the place, or the people, who became mine.

Maybe this is what I deserve.

Sure, there’s electricity and running water. But there’s no Wi-Fi. No, internet is not allowed when you’re being hidden. My existence has been reduced to a kitchen with a rickety dining table, a bedroom, an old, overstuffed chair, and a small pile of supplies to last a month until the next drop.

A burner phone sits on the coffee table, its screen dark. It’s not really a phone—not in the way I’d like it to be. It doesn’t receive calls or texts from the person I want to receive them from. That’s not allowed. That one is my rule. Non-negotiable.

I handed over my phone for data wiping as soon as I got back to Boston. The service was cut the minute I alerted Murph of my plans. I didn’t have a choice. Not if I wanted their help. I didn’t get a choice of location either. Said it was safer that way.

Safer.

I don’t care if it’s safer for me. As long as it’s safer for him.

Yeah, I’d give anything just to hear Ant’s voice again, but I can’t risk it. The Black Crows can never find out what he means to me. Ronan Kelly is out for blood, and he’ll use anything—or anyone—to get to me. I took out his number two man. That kind of thing doesn’t go unanswered.

I wonder what Ant’s doing right now. The reports I’ve gotten let me know he landed an internship and that he moved recently. But the reports don’t give me the good stuff. Is he happy? Does he cuddle with Little G every night? Does he ever think about me?

I’d give anything to know.

The phone buzzes, startling me out of my thoughts. I grab it quickly, unlocking it to read the message.

X: Supplies will be dropped tomorrow before dawn. Be ready.

That’s it. No name, no explanation. Just like always. I know who it is, but everything must remain non-descript.

I toss the phone back onto the coffee table, staring at the screen until it goes dark again. The supplies show up once a month like clockwork—food, firewood, books, and most importantly, fresh paint and blank canvases.

I stand and stretch, the cabin’s cramped walls making me feel claustrophobic. Grabbing my coat, I step outside into the cold night air. The wind bites at my face, and the trees loom like silent judgment in the darkness.

I look up at the sky and ask the stars scattered like shards of broken glass: “How long are you going to keep me here?”

The only answer is the rustle of leaves and the distant call of an owl.

I think about the day I’ll get the message telling me I can leave.

It’s the one thing that keeps me going: the thought of stepping out of this cabin for the last time, of walking away from this isolation and returning to the real world.

Returning to him.

If he’ll even want to see me again.

The thought twists in my chest like a jagged knife. I’ve spent a year reminding myself that I left for a reason. I must protect him. It cost me dearly, but the wrong move could cost him more. I won’t be responsible for losing another person I love. Not again.

I stay outside until the cold becomes unbearable, the stars blurring as my breath fogs the air. When I step back into the cabin, it feels smaller than ever.

I sit by the fireplace, staring into the flames as the wind rattles the windows again.

The burner phone sits on the table, silent and useless.

I close my eyes, letting the ache of missing Ant wash over me like a tidal wave.

One day, I tell myself.

One day, I’ll get the message.

And when I do, I’ll fight like hell to make things right.

The cabin grows colder as the night deepens. I throw another log onto the fire, watching as the flames flicker higher, their light casting shadows across the walls.

I should go to bed soon. The supplies will be here before dawn, and I’ll need the energy to haul everything inside from the hired hand’s truck.

But thoughts of sleep are quickly replaced as my mind drifts again. That’s all there is to do here. Drift.

I wonder who he cooks for now. It makes my stomach—and my chest—growl.What I wouldn’t give for one of his meals.

I miss that.

I miss him.

The first few weeks here were the worst.

I didn’t think I’d make it. This cabin felt like a prison. The silence was unbearable at first. I wasn’t used to being alone, especially not like this. I’d always had people around, even when I didn’t want them there.

But here? There’s no one. No voices, no laughter. Murph gave me an old iPod, pre-loaded with ‘80s playlists when they first dropped me in the middle of nowhere, so I at least had music from the start.

It’s been an endless stretch of empty days ever since.

I’ve thought about leaving more than once. Just walking out into the woods and not stopping until I found something—anything—other than this. I could easily leave the country.

But I won’t.

Because I made a promise. One he’s never heard.

I will come back to you.

When that day comes, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix the wreckage I left behind. I’ll make things right with him.

If he’ll let me. I have to try.

I could risk it—live in any state I want, or even travel aimlessly. I could go back to Arizona and watch him from afar. I ran the risks of every option with The Doves, believe me. This was the only one that didn’t wind up with one of us dead.

The fire crackles softly as a log shifts, hissing and sending sparks up the chimney. My thoughts shift to Ma and how I failed her.

The guilt, paired with endless hours trapped in my own head, rips the wound open every single day. It’s like living inside my own personal version of that movie Groundhog Day —except it’s pain on a fucking loop instead of comedy.

Ma was the only good thing in a house that felt like a battlefield. She was my guide, my compass. She always tried to make me feel safe, even when she couldn’t keep herself safe.

And I wasn’t there when she needed me.

The guilt is a weight I’ll never be able to put down.

She didn’t deserve what happened to her.

When I got the call that night—the one that shattered my world—I couldn’t believe it. I kept thinking, There’s no way. Not her. She’s too strong.

But strength wasn’t enough.

My father made sure of that.

I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms as the memories come flooding back.

His voice was always the loudest in the house. Angry. Cruel. He never needed a reason to lash out, and when he did, it was a storm tearing through everything in its path.

I protected her as soon as my age and size made me able. Sometimes with my fists, but mostly, just with my presence.

That’s what haunts me relentlessly. My presence was nowhere to be found as my mother’s body lay lifeless at the bottom of the basement stairs. No, my presence wasn’t there when it mattered the most.

My father’s shadow has loomed over my life for as long as I can remember. His anger, his cruelty, his control—it all felt inescapable, like a chain we’d never break free of.

When I found out what he did to her, something in me snapped.

I couldn’t let him get away with it.

I wouldn’t.

I will remember the night I avenged my mother for the rest of my life. Without an ounce of remorse.

I found the bastard sitting in his overstuffed armchair, calm as ever, like he hadn’t just murdered my mother—on my birthday.

“What do you want, boy?” he’d sneered, voice dripping with disdain.

Those were his last words.

The man didn’t even have the decency to show regret in his eyes. Not when he saw me standing in his living room. Not even as the life drained from them with my hands wound like a vice around his throat, the chair tipped on its back.

When he was gone, I released his throat, let out a guttural scream, and punched his dead body until I could no longer lift my arms.

An hour later, as Murph and the cleanup crew hauled his body off, I felt nothing but relief.

But it came at a cost.

The kind of cost that forces you to leave everything behind.

I had to disappear, to hide in the shadows, waiting for the storm to settle.

I didn’t care.

Because I’d do it all again.

I’d watch the life drain from his eyes a thousand times over.

With a smile on my face.

The fire pops, pulling me back to the present and I stare into the fire, my mind racing.

I don’t know when I’ll get to see him again, if ever.

But I know one thing for sure.

I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.

For Ant.

For Ma.

For myself.