Page 34

G annon tells me Azalea has been hurt because of me.

Well, he doesn’t say directly that it’s my fault, but that’s how it feels.

She wouldn’t be in this situation if not for me.

The weight of guilt settles heavily on my shoulders as I realize she might have been spared if I had just listened to everybody and never followed Kade.

It frustrates me that even in death, Kade’s influence lingers, casting shadows over my present, and preventing me from moving on.

Gannon’s phone rings suddenly, and my gaze darts to where it rests.

Damian’s face illuminates the screen, prompting Gannon to pull the car over to take his call. A sense of nervousness grows within me; Damian rarely calls instead of using the mindlink unless it’s urgent.

I recall how Gannon reacted when informed about the council through the mindlink, nearly causing an accident.

Perhaps that explains why Damian is opting for a conventional call this time.

Gannon steps out of the car and perches on the hood while speaking on the phone.

He steals a glance back at me through the window with a hint of nervousness before turning away.

His voice escalates in tone as he paces away from me, his words muffled by distance.

We are pulled over on a rough stretch of highway, the relentless stream of passing cars causing our vehicle to shudder.

Gannon, his frustration palpable, runs a hand through his disheveled hair before turning his gaze back to the car.

Sensing the drop in temperature and the gusts of wind outside, I reach over the back seat to retrieve his jacket, my fingers brushing against the cool leather.

With a swift motion, I pull it on and step out of the car, yearning to stretch my legs after hours of confinement.

The prolonged sitting has left my senses dulled, my rear numb from the seat.

Raising my arms above my head to stretch, I pace around the front of the car while Gannon distances himself, engaging in a heated conversation with Damian. Leaning against the sleek hood, I observe him closely, catching only fragments of his heated argument.

“You should have eliminated her. By doing so, you could undo all that I have painstakingly accomplished,” Gannon snaps into his phone, his voice laced with frustration. He abruptly ends the call and growls under his breath before locking eyes with me.

I rummage in his jacket pocket, finding some red sugar clouds. He always had candy on him. Yet, I never see him eat it. I shrug. More for myself. I giggle, opening the little bag and pulling one out while he lights up a smoke.

“Everything alright?” I ask him, and he nods.

“It will be,” he says, wandering over to me.

“You found my stash?” he laughs, pointing to the red sugary clouds in my hand. I smile, popping another in my mouth.

“You always have them, yet you never eat them?” I chuckle—the tips of my fingers tinged red from digging them out of the bag. Sugar coats my lips, and I quickly lick them, savoring the sweet taste.

“I don’t like sweets,” he laughs.

“Then why buy them?” I ask.

“I buy them for you. I know they’re your favorite,” he says, and I let out a breath.

A shudder runs through me as I think of the only time we were offered sweets, and each time it was a lie. I shake the thought away.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing, you had me worried for a second, I thought,” I shake my head, not understanding why my mind went there.

“You thought what?” He asks

“Nothing, it was a stupid thought, just don’t worry about it.” His brows furrow, and he draws back on his smoke, watching me before blowing a smoke cloud in the air. “How much further?” I ask him.

“About three hours. Why, anxious to get away from me?” he chuckles.

“No!” I roll my eyes.

“Come on then, let’s go,” he says, holding out his hand.

I slide off the hood, and he walks around, opening my door.

I shake my head, unsure if he just likes opening doors or thinks I don’t know how to open them for myself.

I shake my head and climb into the car. We drive, listening to the radio for a while.

After a while, he seems off, like something is very wrong. His aura is all over the place.

I pull the candy from my pocket again, and he glances at me. “What were you thinking before?” he asks, and I look at him. He points to the bag in my hand. I don’t want to answer, suddenly feeling ashamed for even thinking about it. I know Gannon, and he isn’t that sort of monster.

“What did Damian want earlier?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.

Gannon glances at me, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I’ll answer when you do,” he retorts, and I sigh. I turn my gaze to the window, watching the scenery go by.

“So?” he asks. I shrug, turning back to look at him.

“When Azalea and I were little, the butcher used to offer us candy to help him in the basement. We never did. He always gave us strange vibes. We always thought there was something off with him, so when he would ask, we used to tell him Mrs. Daley gave us chores, which she did anyway, so it wasn’t technically a lie. ”

“You thought I was a creep?” he asks appalled, as he should be; no one would like being thought of that way, which makes me feel guilty. However, I couldn’t help when the memories float in, uninvited.

“No, just when you said you didn’t eat candy, it came to mind. It’s just where my mind went for some reason.”

“Well, I am definitely not a pedophile. That I can assure you, and do you mean Doyle, that same butcher?”

I cringe hearing his name but nod, looking back out the window. All that seems like a lifetime ago, yet at the same time, I will always remember every detail, remember it like it was yesterday; it only needs the right thing to trigger it and bring it to the forefront of my mind.

“He’s dead now. You don’t have to worry about him,” Gannon says, and I swallow.

“It’s my fault, though. I went down to the basement with him. I knew I shouldn’t have, but Mrs. Daley said she wouldn’t feed us for a week if I didn’t help him bring the meat down to the freezers.” I clench my eyes, my stomach turning.

“I shouldn’t have gone down there. We always made sure we were never around and made sure we were busy when the butcher came to drop the meat off. We both knew something was off about him.”

“Then why did you?” Gannon asks. My bottom lip quivers.

“Because if I didn’t, she would have made Ivy, I mean Azalea. We hadn’t eaten in three days. Mrs. Daley used to make us share whatever scraps were left over. But this time, we had gone a while without food. There was nothing left over.”

“She used food against you?” Gannon asks, and I nod.

“Mrs. Daley said if I helped him stack the freezers, we could make ourselves a plate and eat with the rest of the children, so I went down there. She said we would have got lashings if I didn’t.

If I had known what was waiting for me, I would have taken those instead, but we were hungry, and Azalea’s back was badly torn up already.

She couldn’t take more lashings, and some were down to the bone.

I just didn’t expect what I got when I went down there,” I whisper the last part.