I sigh again. “Take care of yourself.”
“You too.”
“See you soon.”
He hums again. “See you soon,” then disconnects the call.
I open my phone again and search for my papa’s number. My thumb hovers over the call icon. I chew on my lower lip, debating with myself whether to make the call or not. I know my father’s nature very well, he will not let me stay alone after today’s incident. He will force me to come back if I refuse to stay with Matleon. And I can’t leave yet; Dex’s medicine is very important. My father, however, will not see the importance in it. For him, no one’s life matters more than mine and Mom’s.
I close the phone and place it beside me, turning off the light and closing my eyes. I will put up with Matleon for two weeks. I won’t even show him my face. I’ll wake up early, leave for college, eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner outside. I will only come here to sleep.
chapter 13
Iselyn
I’m hiding under the counter, the gun in my hand. My hands are shaking, my breaths coming in ragged gasps, sweat running down my back. I point the gun toward the door, and then the door opens. I shoot, the bullet hits a man in the head. His dead eyes meet mine before he collapses. The trembling in my hands increases. I’m suffocating. There is no air. My lungs are burning.
I force my eyes open, sit up straight, taking gulps of air, feeling my lungs on fire. I run my shaking hands over my face.
“No. I didn’t kill anyone.” I aimed for the stomach. Papa told me it’s the place that’s not life-threatening, it’s not even the heart. “I didn’t kill,” I mutter, breathing hard, holding my head in my hands.
“You didn’t kill anyone, Angel.”
My head jerks up at the voice. My hand reaches my neck, which I sprained from the sudden movement. Good God.
My eyes find him in the darkness. He is sitting on the couch. I can’t see him clearly, only the silhouette of his huge body.
I collect myself. “What are you doing here?” I ask in a tired snap.
He gets up from the couch and comes toward my bed. I’m too exhausted to fight him right now. Even if he decides to manhandle me, I won’t resist. But he simply sits on the edgeof my bed, not too close, not too far. The darkness is still thick enough that I can’t see his face clearly.
“Keeping you company along with your nightmares,” he says in his usual cocky tone, though there’s an underlying tiredness in his voice.
“What time is it?”
“Past 2 a.m.,” he says.
“Why are you not in your bed?” The question leaves my lips before I can stop it.
“I like your worry for me.” I can’t see him, but I know too well he’s smiling now.
“I’m not worried,” I say quietly.
“Go back to sleep, Angel. You won’t see it again tonight.”
“How do you know?” I ask tiredly. I need sleep, but I can’t bear to see those images again.
“They don’t come after 3 a.m. if you are very tired and got woken up once,” he drawls.
“How do you know?” I ask again, unable to hide the concern in my voice. And I know he’s smiling again.
“I’ve got enough experience to know,” he says in a light tone. In the darkness, I can only focus on his voice, his deep baritone, sometimes calm, sometimes teasing, sometimes cocky. And tired. I’ve never seen him tired before. I want to see how he looks when he’s tired. He always looks regal, commanding, authoritative.
Matleon
I want to turn on the light to see her. She sounds concerned,is she also looking concerned?I know how she looks when she’s concerned: a small frown on her smooth forehead, her lipspressed into a line, but not too hard, not like when she’s pissed. I’ve seen that look on her face before, when she faced that Australian about to die.I want to see it for myself—lots of it.
But I can’t turn the lights on. I don’t want her to see me like this. I know I’m not looking good, I never do when I haven’t slept enough for too many days. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t getting sleep because ofworry. I had been so fucking worried for the past week; every time I fell asleep, a horrible nightmare would wake me. It’s also been a long time since I stopped seeing nightmares of any kind.
