Page 82 of Loving the Tormentor

"Achilles?"

Her voice is one of an angel descending on Earth. I turn around, and my feet are carrying me before I can control myself.

"Fuck," I breathe out as I take her in my arms.

She winces from all the bruises she's sporting, but I can't get myself to let her go.

Pulling away, I keep her face between my palms. "Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?"

She shakes her head. "I'm okay," she rasps. "They just questioned me, but I didn’t know anything. I didn't even know Chase was dead. It's fine. I'm good to go."

I should know something doesn't add up. Should know to be more careful. But that's not something I'm going to realize and regret until later. Until my heart is shattered by a beautiful voice, big brown eyes, and a will to survive I could never understand. Because I gave up on surviving a long time ago.

No, all I see tonight is the woman I've been worried sick about. The woman who has my heart in the palm of her hand and who I'd risk everything for.

"Can you take me home—" she cuts herself off, quickly remembering she has no more home. "Just…anywhere, please. I'm exhausted."

"I've got you,mon trésor," I murmur before giving her a kiss on the top of her head. "Let's get you home."

Chapter Nineteen

Nyx

Hardcore Romance – Beach Weather, Ari Abdul

It's been a week since the incident at my trailer, and I used the entirety of it to hide at Peach's campus house. Lena offered to let me stay with her, but there’s barely enough space for her and her siblings, let alone another full-grown adult.

Chase finally got what he wanted, didn't he? I gave up on my dream. I haven't shown up to classes for a week, which I'm sure is grounds for taking my scholarship away. And if it's not, being taken into questioning at the police station is another reason. And if they don't take my scholarship away, Miss Rivera will probably kick me out of the orchestra anyway because my hand is hurting from the cuts, no matter how superficial. I can play. I just can't play at the level expected here. I will again, probably next week, but not today.

That'swhat Chase wanted. And I'm struggling to hate him because he's dead. After everything he's done to me, I still can't find it in myself to think he was a truly bad person. I keep telling myself that it's because I betrayed him, that none of this would’ve happened if Achilles had just left me alone, if I hadn'tbeen such a stupid groupie in the first place. So instead of hating Chase, every day, I swallow down thick guilt until I choke on it.

And in case I could forget about any of this for a minute, the looks on people's faces the second I cross the doors into the music hall are a reminder of what I look like. I still have a bruise around my left eye, although it's turning a yellowish-green. And the stitch is very much present on my eyebrow. Thankfully, my lip isn't swollen anymore. It's just a healing cut and a small bruise. But I know what they're all thinking: that they're not surprised. With where I'm from, I was bound to show up like this at some point.

I walk past everyone's obvious stares. They have no shame, blatantly gawking at my face like I'm an alien, and I'm forced to hurry through the audience seats until I find a place at the back, which most of us usually avoid, as they want to be seen listening and focused by Miss Rivera.

Five minutes before start, just like every rehearsal, Miss Rivera, Evelyn, and Achilles walk on stage from behind the curtain. I can imagine them every Monday morning discussing us backstage before class. Eventually, Evelyn's wrist will heal, and she’ll come back as our soloist, and I wonder how fair it truly is that she has a say in anything. We're all her competition, especially Josh.

Miss Rivera decides to work with the wind instruments first, so I pull out my music book, my violin, and air-practice until I feel someone sit next to me.

I don't give her any attention at first, no matter how much I feel her observing me, but it's hard to focus when Evelyn looks at you. She's intense, arrogant, and can't stand the fact that she can't play at the moment. So, she hates the world for it.

I hear her mutter something, but between the music from the players on stage and the fact that she's sitting to my left, I didn't get it.

I stop what I'm doing, slowly turning my head to her to make sure I can hear her properly.

"What did you say?" There's a challenge in my voice because I know it must have been some sort of insult, and I've got little patience with people getting on my nerves this week.

"I said, typical North Shore," she repeats proudly. I mainly read it on her lips. "Your face."

I grit my teeth, barely stopping myself from jumping her. God knows, I've dealt with worse in my life and still held myself back. But on the North Shore, when I hold myself back, it's because I know they'll kick my ass if I don't. Here, I could punch Evelyn's lights out so quickly and finally release some rage.

Somehow, there's still hope in my heart that I can make it here, and at some point, will leave the nightmare that is the North Shore behind, and beating up the soloist of the orchestra could take that away from me.

When I go back to rehearsing silently instead of taking the bait, she says something else. But I've straightened up again. I can't hear shit from my left ear, and the music on stage is mainly what my right ear is picking up.

"What?" I turn to her again.

"Isaid,do you think you can stay in an orchestra if you show up like this? We're respectable people here. No one deals drugs on the weekend and comes back black and blue on the Monday. You know it's notnormal,right?"