Page 12

(Present)

“He said what???”

Cami signs with disbelief written all over her adorable face.

“Yup... Dude looked like he was ready to eat me.”

“Did you tell B?”

“Fuck no, last thing we need is him going and getting the lot of us executed when he tries to rip Marcus’s dick off.”

She smirks at that, the little maniac.

“I wonder if he knows he looks like a toad on crack. He’d probably piss on you too.”

Her face twists and she studies her nails like she did something there. He doesn't and she knows it, she just hates him like the rest of us.

Objectively, Marcus is good looking. It's when you get up close that you’re able to see the lifelessness in his eyes and study the bland words that leave his disgusting lips.

“Who’s pissing on Har?”

B approaches with raised brows, having entered the conversation at the wrong time and I groan.

Cami smirks with a mischievous twinkle in her eye that she’s had since she was a tot. “Just a new kink Harlyn’s thinking about trying out.”

My face heats and I meet her gaze before we both throw our heads back in laughter. Blithe looks between the two of us with a mix of confusion and horror, before he masks his reaction and clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Well, if that will make you happy, I support you.”

Our jaws loosen as he finishes signing his awkward declaration of support. When I meet Cami’s eye again we burst into laughter once more.

My alarm blares somewhere on my nightstand, and my hand snakes out of the blanket to slap the surface until it finds my phone. I curse because for once I was having a good dream, instead of dark suffering ones. It was a memory too, one of the times Cami brought light to a dark situation. I groan and crawl my way out of bed.

Addy had prior obligations this morning, so he asked me to fill in for him when the restock truck comes or something like that. He was an odd one, that Addy. I like him. I could see us being potential friends, maybe. He gives everything he does a serious attention that deserves more recognition. Even if 50% of the time it turns into a disaster. I have discovered someone who has the same amount of luck as me, meaning zero. There’s a comfort in not being alone.

I crack my sisters door open a bit and peak inside to make sure she’s alright before heading out. She’s curled in a ball tangled in five blankets for no reason other than being dramatic. She's always cold, but kicks the blankets off, I smile and head for the front door of our apartment.

It's a sketchy place that didn’t ask many questions when I pulled out a stack of cash for a deposit. It's a roof and I’m not picky, so it works for me.

When I get to the club I come in through the back using the keypad passcode system to get inside.

It's early in the day and Addy said no one would be here. The crash I hear sound from down the hall proves that to be an incorrect statement. Nonetheless, I pull out my knifes and I have them at the ready, just in case. If Addy said no one would be here, then no one should be here.

I stroll further down the hall letting my instincts lead me as they wish. I stop at the door to the supply closet when I hear another thud from inside. I waste no time turning the knob and throwing the door open.

I freeze, knife midair when I come face to face with Creek and... someone. A breath of air escapes me as a crack punctures my chest at the sight of a woman hanging all over him. Her hand rubs his dick through his pants and her lips explore his neck. The wounded feeling intensifies.

It’s a ridiculous emotional response being that I have no claim on Creek. Do I? I mean he had his tongue down my throat and made me come like an adolescent receiving their first-hand job.

He still hates you though.

But I kind of thought for a second we may have had something between us. With my persistent taunts and his laughable need to pretend he doesn't crave it just as much as I do.

Or did. I haven't spoken to him in almost two weeks. Ever since he saw me shatter I've avoided him.

I cannot comprehend whether or not his words were meant to cut me or if his use of them had been an innocent inconvenience. Either way, I know what B would say, and that’s that I deserve better. Because I deserve the fucking best for once damnit. Therefore, I decided that I would leave well enough alone when it comes to Creek and let him be.

Now, as I behold the scene in front of me, an unfamiliar emotion guts me. Jealousy. It isn’t something I'm accustomed to, but I'm able to file it away as a dangerous sensation because I want to slice the girls lips off and sew them to her busy hands.

Creek has his head thrown back while she makes him feel good and I'm rooted in place. I knew he didn’t like me, and I just chalked up our interaction as a temporary moment of insanity on his part from bottled up lust. Maybe he hadn’t gotten laid in a while, and I was available. Figures that would be the case. No one has ever wanted me for me. I'm nothing but a toy to be played with, then tossed aside or trashed when I'm ruined.

It's disgusting, these thoughts, and I shake them away easily like I always do.

Blithe’s words come back to me, after he found out about Marcus’s fixation with me. “You are worthy of real love Har. The passionate kind, that drives you mad when you think about losing it one day. The kind of love that burns your skin at the touch and makes you dizzy with need. Someone someday is going to see in you - what I see, and they won't know that they have given you their heart until it's too late and all they can do is fall.”

He had been emotional that day, probably missing Ressyn again. I vowed to myself that day that I would find the kind of love they shared in someone of my own. I should not have been foolish enough to think it would be from the first person to show me attention like some love starved idiot.

Creek is a terrible person to play hopscotch with my feelings like this. He may be the only person to recognize that my soft exterior doesn't bout with my darker ingrained instincts, but he isn’t much better. It appears our inner monsters are much the same. His just carries a hammer to shatter hearts with, rather than blades.

His hands circle her waist, and he pulls her flush against his hard body causing her to moan like I did, and it makes me feel sick. How could I have let another dirty person with bad intentions put their hands on me?

You’re a fool.

It's in this moment that his eyes blink open and lock with mine, much to my horror because I'm standing in the doorway like a stage five freak show stalker.

Their movements halt upon my discovery and I finally get my body to move, abandoning the doorway then sprinting down the hall to escape their display. I think I hear Creek call my name with an impatient edge to his voice and I outwardly cringe at how fucking stupid I was to think this guy would ever like me.

I finally stumble into the back, where I should have been all along to sign and unload the shipments for Shadows and my steps falter.

I know immediately that I'm not supposed to be in here.

What the fuck Addy.

There are crates of cocaine and machine guns scattered about and everyone in the room quiets upon my entrance. Guns are removed from holsters, but they are not aimed my way. Yet.

My initial reflex is to throw my knifes into the hearts of everyone here that would dare to think bringing guns to my knife fight was a smart choice. It's laughable. However, I remain rooted in place by invisible vines because that’s not what I'm here for.

I see Beige and Ressyn stop mid conversation with a burly man in a suit. They both look positively pissed to see me. Ressyn is the only reason I came to Array City to begin with so seeing his usual tolerant face transform to wrath does something to my insides.

The barrel of a strangers gun finds comfort against my temple and my bones feel like they’re scraping together, trying to hold myself in place. My skin vibrates with the promise of this man’s blood. My eyes naturally find his forehead and it's all I can do to suppress a blissful sigh at being let out of my cage.

I know his retort before I open my mouth to speak, but the human part of me believes in second chances. “Lower your weapon or I cannot be faulted for your death sir.”

He snorts with a familiar lilt to his voice, as if the idea is absurd. “Read the room fucker.”

I moan because I'm sick and twisted and all the blood in my body pools to my dick lighting me aflame. Like a candle, my monstruous side flares while the rest of the worlds fades to black.

“I was hoping you would say that.”

I whisper.