The room disappeared.
I forgot about the other bikers.
I ignored the entire world as Kill ever so slowly uncrossed his arms and closed the small distance between us. His face was impenetrable, eyes blank, jaw clenched.
My skin sparked, begging for his touch. My mouth ached, pleading for his lips.
“You…” His voice was a deadly hiss.
My body stiffened, fighting the urge to flee.
Mo stood up, standing on my other side, flanking me like Grasshopper.
Ironically, they were protection against the man I loved. Ready to stop me being hurt by the monster rapidly slipping into simmering rage before us.
Kill’s frame trembled. He shook his head. “I have to stop pretending?” he whispered.
The pent-up anger in his tone terrified me.
I couldn’t help it; I took a step back. “Yes. My name is Sarah. You know me!”
He mimicked my step. “Let me get this straight. I’m the one who needs to stop pretending?” His eye flashed and I truly feared him as his soul disappeared. He was locked and barricaded and so wrapped up in grief he couldn’t see the truth.
Tears bruised my eyes. “I’m standing right in front of you. Why are you doing this?!”
Grasshopper said, “Kill, it’s not the girl’s fault—”
“Not her fault?” Kill roared. “Not her fucking fault that she’s torn my heart out all over again and has the nerve to tell me to stop pretending?” He pointed a finger in my face. “I’ve never met someone so despicable or so clever at manipulation, and I’ve met a lot of fucking traitors.”
Turning his full terror upon me, he snarled, “You’re worse than them. At least they stabbed me in the back and left me to rot. You—you just keep stabbing me. Over and over and fucking over until I’m bleeding from every slice.”
Tears welled, and, unwilling to break the seal of my eyelashes, they glassed my vision, making his anger swim and dance. “I don’t know what you want me to say! You have to believe—”
“I don’t have to believe a fucking word you say. You. Aren’t. Her! You will never be her. You will never convince me of your bullshit.”
My body was too heavy. I wanted to collapse, but I had to keep fighting. I couldn’t give up.
“Yes. I am!” I screamed. “If you just listen to what I’m—”
“She. Is. Dead! Just like you’ll be if you don’t shut the fuck up!”
“Killian,” Grasshopper muttered. “Dude, it’s okay.”
Kill turned his arctic ferocity on his second in charge. “No, it’s not okay. I want her gone. Now. Immediately, before I do something stupid.”
“Stupid like believe me?!” My voice seemed to cower in the face of his wrath.
Kill towered taller and taller as if he sucked the life from the room. His voice dropped to the worst hiss imaginable. “I’ll never be that gullible, sweetheart. And just for fucking closure, you aren’t her. And now I know for sure.”
“How? How do you know?”
He smiled coldly, dragging out my worst fears. “You’re a liar, Sarah. Give it up. It’s done.”
Tears slicked down my cheeks. “I’m not. You’re just in denial. Complete and utter heartbreaking denial. Don’t do this! Don’t hurt me like this.”
He laughed.
It sent shivers down my spine.
Rolling his shoulders, he muttered, “Fine. I’ll give you one chance. One final chance. Tell me… are you certain your name is Sarah?”
I breathed hard, terrified of his question. Why did he want me to confirm it? It’d come to me. It fitted. I had memories of Corrine using it. It was mine.
Horror made me second-guess everything; terror made me realize how badly everything had gone so wrong.
Don’t give in.
Slowly, I nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.”
He grinned, eyes flat and face emotionless. “Thank you for digging your own grave and proving what a liar you are.”
I curled into myself, not wanting to hear any more. Not wanting to be subjected to his cruelty another second.
“You’re wrong, Sarah,” Kill breathed. Quickly, he grabbed my throat, holding me tight.
My body pressed against his and for a horrid second I thought he meant to strangle me. His eyes tore into my soul and ripped it into pieces. With more pain than I’d ever seen in a man’s face, he pressed his forehead bitterly against mine. “Her name wasn’t Sarah.” With confusing tender fingers, he cupped my chin, ensuring I never looked away as he delivered the crushing sentence.
“Her name was Cleo. And I killed her.”
Chapter Fifteen
Some said sinners go to hell and saints go to heaven.
If that was the truth, then I’d lived the past eight years in brimstone and fire.
My heart burned with lies and a need so fucking deep to believe every word Sarah said. I wanted to have the strength to let go of my hate and just… give in.
But everything I did, every path I followed, and every revenge-filled purpose I followed wasn’t for me but for her.
I owed her memory vengeance.
I owed her peace.
Because I saw how she died.
I’d witnessed the end.
And she would be screaming in purgatory until I gave her justice.
By taking the lives of those who took ours.
Everything else I wanted—it wasn’t enough to make me stop.
—Kill
Cleo.
Her name was Cleo.
My name is Sarah.
Cleo.
He killed her.
The pressuring headache of believing a fabricated lie of my own creation clouded my vision. How did I have memories that I couldn’t explain? How did I live a past that might not even be real?
Cleo.
It didn’t ring any hopeful bells inside. It didn’t tug on threads of a past I thought was true.
I retreated into myself, and didn’t raise my eyes as the dining room emptied like sands through splayed fingers, leaving just Kill, Grasshopper, and me.
“I’ll take her.” Grasshopper reached for me. I didn’t struggle as his hands landed on my shoulders, pulling me from Kill’s crushing tender hold.
Everything inside that’d been so passionate and raw had mysteriously disappeared. I’d been consumed by the black hole, fallen through the crater that my nightmare earthquake had created. I’d plummeted into the amnesiac darkness completely.
I was done.
“You okay, dude?” Grasshopper asked when Kill remained silent and frozen. He barely breathed, his boots glued to the floor.
It took a minute for him to reply. Clearing his throat, Kill said, “I will be once she’s gone.”
I flinched, wishing I could fall to the floor and nurse my bleeding heart.
“Well… I’ll get going, then. You just, um, rest up. I’ll be back soon enough.” Grasshopper guided me toward the door.
Back without me. Their lives would continue… without me.
I didn’t look back.
I couldn’t look back.
The door closed behind us and I hunched over my gnawing stomach. The pain deep inside devoured me.
“It’ll be okay,” Grasshopper whispered. “You’ll see. It’s for the best—for everyone.”
I had no reply. I doubted I’d speak again. Why bother when it only brought more disaster?
We kept walking.
Past the first magazine of Kill and his mug shot.
Past the next one of him looking part businessman, part biker lord.
With each step I left pieces of myself behind, leaving a trail of crumbs for no one to follow or seek the girl lost inside me. I would leave. And never come back. My one chance was over—the life I believed was a lie.
I no longer trusted myself. I didn’t trust a brain that was so adamant and fed such lifelike occurrences—staining my sanity until I knew I must be mad.
At least my imagination excelled. It would be the one place I could escape to when my future in slavery became too much.
“Wait.” Kill’s voice rang out.
Grasshopper stopped, his fingers tightening on my elbow to stop me, too.
I didn’t turn around but my back prickled as Kill moved toward us.
“Forget something?” Grasshopper asked.
My ears strained for Kill’s reply, even now wishing upon wishes that he had made a mistake and finally realized it.
“I’ll take her.”
What?
God, no. Please. I couldn’t have him take me away and deliver me to someone else. It would be the epitome of callousness. He’d already daggered my heart, he didn’t need to keep twisting it.
Grasshopper let me go, stepping aside as Kill took his place. “Are you sure? I mean—”
“I’m sure. I need to see with my own eyes that she’s gone.”
My nerve endings sprang to life the moment his fingers wrapped around my wrist.
Grasshopper huffed. “You don’t trust me to do it?”
Kill growled. “Yes, I trust you. But I need to do this. I need to know that I’ll never suffer again.”
Suffer?
What a heartless bitch he made me sound. I’d meant to heal his brokenness, not make it worse. I’d offered my love, my kindness and friendship—how did he think my goal was to make him hurt?
“I get that,” Grasshopper said. “I’ll call ahead and let the buyer know you’re the one coming.”