Page 6 of Promise of Destruction (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #1)

six

Soren

My heart doesn’t stop hammering until Jimmy turns onto my street, the headlights cutting through the dark but tidy yards of my little suburban neighborhood.

He was right there. Inches away from me. He put his hands on me. He spoke to me.

Was it all an act?

Not a single part of me believes that the wealthiest man in the city just wandered into my bar for a drink.

I guess I finally got his attention. After months of denied meetings and ignored phone calls, I finally drew him out. And like a damn fool, I ran.

My mind is spinning so furiously I feel dizzy, the houses outside the window blurring together in a fury of porch lights that’s making me nauseous. The pounding in my temples feels like it may split me in two.

But it isn’t just fear or shock that’s got me spiraling.

It’s also a rage so profound that I think there’s nothing left.

A rage that swallows all the light in the world, that sets my bones on fire and my muscles on edge.

It’s a rage that sneaks under my ribs, slips into my lungs and threatens to turn my insides black, necrotic.

I like rage best. It gives me the control that I need, same as pain. It lets me get a grip on the depth of my despair and mold it into something useful.

Denial is the first stage of grief. It was also the briefest stage.

It’s hard to live in denial when you wake up alone, go to sleep alone, when your calls go unanswered, and you find yourself front and center at a funeral with everyone lamenting their condolences at you, sobbing as if they were the ones whose entire life shifted in an instant.

The anger comes the minute your denial falters, and it shapes the rest of your life.

Some people move on to bargaining, but I don’t know who they’re trying to bargain with.

A false God that they foolishly believe will save them and restore life to the places death has touched?

Or maybe they’re trying to bargain with death himself, begging him to come whisk them off to a place without the burden of emotion or feeling.

When no bargain can be made because God doesn’t exist and death is a bastard who does only what he wants, most people fall into depression.

Lying in bed for days on end, feeling alone in a crowded room, realizing the color has bled out of the world. I felt all of those things for years before I met Vin… before I could feel something.

Some people eventually accept their new normal.

I don’t know what acceptance is supposed to mean for the grieving process.

I’ve already accepted that my old life is dead.

I’ve accepted that my life isn’t what I thought it would be.

I’ve accepted that the last time I saw him was the last, that there are no happy endings for people like me, that heaven is a fairytale concocted to make people feel better about the fragility of human life.

I’ve accepted all of it, and yet I’m still grieving. I slid backwards— right back into the cold hands of anger.

Anger’s embrace is intoxicating . He whispers little things in my ear that remind me I’m not alone despite how empty everything is—my house, my body, my head when I take the pills they tell me to.

The other stages of grief patted me on the back and sent me on my way like they couldn’t wait to be rid of me, but anger stayed. He festered and turned into something more.

That’s why I wrote the article. That’s why I threw it all out there, why I released that story with everything I knew about the man who could be responsible for ruining my life.

I may not be able to get close enough to kill a man as untouchable as Declan Evers, but I can tear him apart in the public’s eye.

I know one little story isn’t enough to take him down; it’s only the first domino to fall.

Unfortunately, I’ve set the first domino in motion without placing the rest.

I didn’t think this through. I didn’t plan what to do next.

And I sure as shit didn’t plan for him to show up in my bar looking like a dark Prince Charming, feigning innocence and kindness.

I didn’t expect that when I finally was face-to-face with him that I’d freeze, that every cell in my body would twist, vacillating between the desperation to make him pay for his sins and also besotted with his presence.

I knew Declan Evers was gorgeous. Sometimes the most sinister people are the most physically attractive, taking care to layer on the charm to conceal their rotting souls.

But I hadn’t expected to have such a visceral reaction to his presence—one where I could hardly breathe, where my stomach dipped and twisted with something that wasn’t just rage. His presence was powerful, domineering…

I’ve never felt so eclipsed by another person, except for maybe that night.

Jimmy, who’s been trying to talk to me nearly the whole way home, clears his throat and I look up to realize we’re sitting in my driveway.

The two-story craftsman looks like the place of a young couple’s dream.

It was the place of my dreams, for a while.

We bought the house and moved in together even before Vin ever put a ring on my finger.

He’d seen me stare at it every time we passed, marveling at the violet-painted door and the white shutters.

I’d once dared to dream of walking through the kitchen barefoot and pregnant, of pushing my children on a tire swing under the big oak in the front yard, of standing on the porch watching the fireflies light up the night while Vin and our kids with their friends chased a soccer ball around the back yard.

Those dreams died the night he did, and now this house is a reminder of my nightmare.

They say when people die violent deaths, sometimes parts of their soul will attach themselves to the place they died. I never believed that until Vin died, and curious little things started to happen.

The speaker in the living room turns on out of random sometimes to play music; Vin knew I never could stand the silence.

The coffee pot has turned off mid-brew; He always told me I drank too much caffeine.

I’ve stepped out of the shower only to find my towel across the room where I don’t recall leaving it; Vin would take every opportunity to see me walk around the house without clothes, hiding my robe or moving my towel so that he could get a good look and a golden opportunity to pounce.

I’m haunted, in more ways than one.

I could leave. I can afford to sell the house and buy in a new neighborhood. Marissa offered me her spare bedroom when her roommate moved out.

I’ll admit, the first time the music turned on out of nowhere and began playing the song I’d chosen for our first dance, I was more than a little creeped out.

I’d called Tony, who was there in an instant to investigate.

I chalked the coffeepot up to a short in the circuit, but when I replaced it only to continue to have issues, I realized Vin was somehow still there.

And that was all the reason I needed to stay.

“My car.” I say, coming out of the daze I’ve been in and turning to face Jimmy. “I have work in the morning.”

“Give me the key,” he suggested. “And I’ll have Rob drop it off tonight.”

I nod, fumbling through my purse until my clumsy fingers close on the keyring.

I’ve known Jimmy as long as I’ve known my husband—longer, I guess, since Vin’s been gone for a year now. I don’t hesitate, but I take off the set I need to get into the house.

It takes me a moment to free my other keys from the fob.

As I place it in Jimmy’s hand, I stop, catching his attention. “Why do you think Declan Evers was there?”

Jimmy shrugs, nonchalant. “Why does he do anything? Boredom, maybe? Or he could have a business opportunity for Tony?”

I squint at him under the harsh glow of the dome light, looking for any sign of deception. I find nothing, so I press him a little more.

“Tony told me he didn’t have anything new to tell me, but Evers sure acted like he was there for something specific.”

“Well,” Jimmy scratches his chin. “I mean, maybe he was looking for you.”

When I say nothing in response, he sighs.

“Come on, Soren. You think he’s responsible for what happened to Vin, right?” When I don’t answer again, he prompts me. “Isn’t that what you believe?”

I swallow. “Of course. Who else would it have been?”

I stare at him, looking for any indication that he believes the rumors… any indication that he suspects me.

“I don’t know. But if it really was him, then he tried to kill you, and you survived. Maybe he’s poking around because he wants to finish what he started. Or maybe he’s poking around because you kicked the hornet’s nest.”

I blink, feigning innocence.

“That article? Splashy little bit of writing.”

I square my shoulders against the backrest and consider his words a minute before shaking my head.

“It doesn’t matter. He killed Vin. He tried to kill me. And I’m going to make him pay for it, one way or another.”

I toss the car door open and step out, letting Jimmy’s protests fall into the empty night.

It’s as I step on the grass that I remember I’m barefoot.

The lawn is cool and wet from the sprinklers. I dig my toes into the earth as I stare at the house in front of me, all dark besides the light from the front porch.

I may not want to leave the house, but that doesn’t mean I want to be alone in it, either. I’d be content to sit down on the lawn, hugging my knees to my chest and looking up at the stars, trying to figure out which one is the lost love of my life.

But Jimmy won’t leave until he sees me enter safely into the house, so I climb the steps, walking past the stray cat that has made a home under my porch swing but runs away every time she sees me, and let myself into the house.

I flip on a light and turn to look out the window to wave him off, but Jimmy has already gone.