I’ve only known two lives: that of the Mavestelli Family and that of the Dark Forces. Both are wretched.
The devil you know is better than the one you don’t… That’s the saying, right?
I think of Cameron’s shattered gaze and set my arm over my forehead. It’s only been a few hours and I’m already feeling bad about what I said and want to mend things with him.
Time to dissociate.I purse my lips as I pick up a book from my nightstand and curl up on the bed. I crack it open and find the place I left off. It’s the only way I know how to flee my shitty reality before going to bed.
The better part of an hour passes before I hear metal rattling from the room down the hall. I place the bookmark back between the pages and sit up to listen. My hair is loose, allowing strands to slip over my shoulder and chest as I lean forward to hear better.
The sound comes again, this time louder.
A sense of unease eats away at the back of my mind until I can’t ignore it any longer. I set the book down and walk to the door, cracking it open to peek out into the hallway.
It’s empty. I wait for a few moments before shaking my head and turning the knob so the door doesn’t make a loud clicking when I close it.
This building is old. It must’ve been the pipes creaking.
20
EMERY
All right,sit back down, Emery, you’re going to need stitches,” Reed says gruffly as he pulls a bullet from my thigh. Dark blood gushes out and I watch it with dull eyes, unfeeling and tired.
I haven’t even washed my hands yet. Red dirt clumps are stuck under my nails. Reed hardly even let me in the door before ushering me to the medical room.
It’s been one week since I saw Cameron on the rooftop.
The family business comes first. Not to mention I need space to sort out my head. The pills don’t necessarily make things clearer either, but at least it staves off the physical pain. A cloudy mind isn’t so bad, not when your line of work involves ruthless murder. I’ve made sure to keep up on the doses every four hours like Nolan prescribed. I don’t want to find out what happens if I stray from that.
All I have left is this awful melancholic longing for Cameron. The time we shared together in the Under and on the Fury Squadplays repeatedly in my head. His callused fingers that once touched me so delicately. His eyes that held so much hurt.
I expel a long breath.
“This is truly remarkable. You really feel nothing?” Reed stitches me up without any pain relief medications since I still have an entire bottle of the death pills. He made sure to top off my bottle just in case before I left on the job, and I honestly can’t tell the difference between the ones he had made and the ones Nolan did.
I nod. “But what does it cost someone to feel nothing?” I murmur passively.
He grins and shakes the bloody needle at me. “Well, luckily for you, I happen to have exceptional connections in the biochemistry team. I think they’ve found the balancing agent that the pills were missing.” Reed grabs a pink bottle and tosses it at me.
I catch it. “We don’t have a biochemistry team.” My tone is flat and suspicious.
Reed keeps his wide smile, hardly even blinking. “I didn’t say they wereours.” He winks, extending his hand for the bottle I currently have been using. I hand it over and keep the pink one.
“Uh-huh.” I can’t help but give him a curious look, debating if I should ask about Cameron or not. Greg promised not to hurt him since pain tactics won’t work on him, but I just have an ominous feeling.
“How is Cameron?” I ask quietly, watching Reed move around the medical sink and pausing at my question.
He sets his hands down on the counter and considers his words before turning to face me. “You probably shouldn’t worry about him, Emery. None of us are particularly happy with the fact that he tried to murder you.” His voice is firm, speaking to me like I’m a child even though we’re the same age.
I scowl at him. “My father hardly cares.”
Reed shoots me a dirty look before it fades into understanding. “You should focus on healing your mind. I don’t want to hear you mention Mori again, okay? I’ll let you know when you can have him back.”He’s not a rag doll.My gaze narrows with concern, studying Reed’s stiff posture and nod so that he’s satisfied.
“Have you ever been in love?” I ask, knowing that it will catch him off guard.
Reed’s eyes widen a fraction before he resumes his usual emotionless gaze. “Who hasn’t at our age?” he says carelessly. I can tell he’s lying. Reed doesn’t know how to love. He only knows how to be possessive and use people. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t yearn to understand what it is to feel it. It’s sad, really.
He turns back to face the sink, pretending to busy himself with cleaning medical tools. When I don’t say anything more he lets his shoulders slack. “Do you love him?” he eventually asks.
