Dorian speaks, voice filled with sandpaper and regret. “Riven.” He lifts his head and attempts to flutter his eyes open against the bright lights that are now much closer to him. “Son, please.” It’s funny, hearing those words from a man who’s dealt the same cruelty that finds him now.
I huff out a laugh. “Oh, this should be good. Begging does not suit you,Father.” I sling the word at him like an insult.
“I did what I had to do, Riven. You wouldn’t understand. And the damage has been done, anyway. You can’t stop it. You WON’T stop this.” He coughs, blood falling to the floor. I don’t have time to consider his words, and quite frankly, I don’t fucking care right now.
I walk toward Dorian until I’m standing at his dangling feet. I look directly into his eyes, staring for far too long until the silence settles like ash.
“You left Raithe and me,Mom, like this for our entire fucking lives. You don’t get to beg for forgiveness now.” I turn, walking toward the door and nodding at Cal to follow. I hear the chains rustling behind me as Dorian struggles against them, expending the last ounce of energy he has left.
“Goodbye, Dorian,” I say, flicking off the lights and closing the door behind us.
46
Sloane
Riven Reilly.
Where do I even begin? After last night, it felt like everything changed. We stayed up far into the morning talking about everything. He took me back to the very beginning, when Reverb was nothing more than a garage band full of teenage dreams. He walked me through it all, allowing me to truly see his heart and soul. I forgave him for everything. I know that to some, that might seem like a crazy thing to do. How in the world could I forgive a man who murdered my father, one who lied to me for months about half of himself? But the answer is simple.
I love him.
I amin lovewith him. Last night, our souls truly saw one another for all that we are, and they chose to stay. I’ve witnessed the darkness, I’ve seen the most horrid parts of this city. I carried myowndarkness. I used to think that Riven was thestorm, the chaos waiting to tear me to shreds. He was never the storm, but the one standing in the wreckage, refusing to succumb to those who tried to break him. He was never the darkness, but the young boy trapped inside of it, screaming to be heard. I’ve seen his fury, his silence, his heartbreak.
Riven only ever wanted to be seen, and I seeallof him.
I love Riven Reilly for all of the things that he deems unworthy of the four-letter word. He doesn’t need to be anything else, not for me. My heart chose him, therealhim. I never feared his darkness; I only fear for a world where I don’t get to touch the light he hides beneath it.
I set out in search of a story, but what I found was so much more than I ever imagined. It was never only about the music, or the masks, or the symbols, or even the cult following. Those were all merely distractions to conceal something much more …human.It wasn’t even about Sabel, Sonus, or the Eden Frequency. No, the truth was something much simpler. Something hidden in plain sight.
Reverb was never meant for fame or rebellion. It was built around pain andworship. It was built on the desperate desire to escape this harsh reality and to trulybelong somewhere. It was a way that all the guys could make sense of all the broken pieces they each carried.
Riven was never this mystical being on a pedestal above the rest of us. He was never the monster that he sometimes believed himself to be, either. He was a vessel. A boy forged from silence and grief. A man who thought he had to rid the world of the evil that he had witnessed walk out on his mother and brother. A lead vocalist forced to be a puppet master. He was a man carrying around wounds that no one even cared to notice. He was glorified, feared, and hated fiercely by some. But he never wanted to be seen on that stage or in the spotlight. He only ever wanted to be seen in the darkness where thetruthoften lies.
I may have discovered all of those things, but what I truly discovered waslove. Not the soft kind that you read about in a storybook, but theravenouskind. The kind of love that knows what it feels like toloseit. The kind that flinches away when touched too softly. The kind that carries guilt like permanent ink tattooed into skin. The kind that makes you question your sanity, destroying and rebuilding until your soul is awakened and laid bare. At the end of the day, Riven was never a secret to be uncovered.
He was only ever just a man, aching for someone to love him just as he is.
? ? ?
I woke this morning entangled in his embrace, and regretfully told him I had to leave to meet with Lydia today for brunch. Lydia texted me late last night saying that she needed a STAT brunch date to discuss “the grumpy Golden Retriever.” After finding out the “grumpy Golden Retriever” is not exactly who I thought he was, I have tons to catch her up on. I’ve felt so bad for keeping all of this from her, but protecting her was always my ultimate goal.
Now, I’m sitting at Books and Brews. I watch as Lydia orders us a coffee, suddenly super nervous to fill her in on everything. She’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember, but what if it’s all too much? What if she’s not okay with how morally gray myreal-lifeboyfriend is? I wipe away my worried expression and force a smile as Lydia turns and walks toward my table with our coffee. Her eyes are beaming, and her hair bounces with every step she takes. Seeing her always brings a genuine smile to my face.
“Lo!” she exclaims, handing an iced shaken espresso to me while setting down her own. She grabs my shoulders, pulling me up and into a tight embrace.
“It has been way too long,” she says, pulling back to assess me. “Are you okay? It isn’t like you to be so quiet.” She tilts her head to look me over. I pull from her grasp and sit.
“Yes, I’m fine. Plus, it’s only been like two days.” I pause, laughing. “But I do haveso muchto tell you,” I say, taking a sip of the glorious liquid before me. Coffee makeseverythingright in the world.
“You first,” we both say, breaking into a fit of laughter.
“Okay, fine. I’ll go first,” Lydia says. I sit up, eager to hear if Callum responded to her weirdo text.
She looks around the room and leans in like she’s about to tell me some huge secret, and she’s afraid someone might hear.
“He responded,” she whispers, grinning like a kid at a carnival with no rules and entirely too much sugar.
“Okay, aaannnnd?” I ask.
