My phone buzzes. Nico’s name flashes on my screen.
The President wants us to meet to prepare the plan for tonight.
Ok. I can be there in fifteen minutes.
I type back.
See you.
I push up from the bed and peel off my clothes. I can still smell her on me. The sweet trace of vanilla that somehow got stuck on my skin. Part of me wants to keep it there. But part of me knows all she can be for now is my favorite secret. And that’s not the only secret I keep from them.
Harper says the President hates my dad because he took her from him when she was five. Ever since, Dad has stayed on him, sending inspectors to the bar, checking licenses, digging into every corner, looking for a reason to shut him down.
He has been waiting for payback for a long time.
That’s why I keep my name hidden. If he ever finds out I am a Harrington, he will string me up in his own bar and leave me there like a warning, dry and swinging for everyone to see.
I step into the shower and turn it on. Warm water slides over me, stinging the fresh ink on my neck from this morning. I lean against the brown wooden tiles as the water runs down my back,drops tracing the lines of the skull tattoo across my back and shoulders.
I take the shampoo and drag it over my body, through my hair, across my face.
I don’t know who I am anymore. I turned into a shadow caught between Chaos and Judas.
My fist slams into the tiles. Water sheets down my face, washing the soap away.
I wish I could stop the world from spinning, freeze time just to stay with her. I can’t. Time is the one thing I can’t fucking bend, and the one thing I can’t hold. It slips through my fingers while I just stand here, hoping for one more night with her.
My mind is a dark room where everything rushes at once. I am terrified of being alone, so I keep going back to her, hoping she can hold me. Hoping she can take in the worst of me first, so maybe she can love what is left that is good.
God help me, because I never know when the darkest parts will rise again.
The blackouts still come. Flashes of what I did. Flashes of what I could do. I am afraid I might hurt her, but it hurts more not having her here.
For a year, I spent hours learning how to speak, and I still can’t say her name the way it should sound. I hate myself for that. For another year, I spent nights watching her. She has no idea what she does to me. How hard my cock reacts when she is close. She has no idea that while she sleeps, I lie beside her, making sure she stays warm.
I know I am a fucking psychopath. I never once told her it was me. I have no idea if she could ever forgive what I have done. But even if she doesn’t, I will keep pulling her back to me until she does.
I turn off the water and grab the towel, dragging it over my skin.
Today is Halloween. The President probably wants Halloween masks on all of us, so no one suspects a thing.
I walk back into the bedroom, the towel wrapped around my waist. My eyes lock on the closet. I pull on black boxers and drop the towel onto the chair nearby. I step into black sweatpants, then slide my feet into the black sneakers by the table.
I face the mirror. I stare at myself, and all I see is Chaos. That is who I am now.
I grab the black hoodie hanging behind the closet, pull it over my head, and walk out.
I move through the hallway toward the entrance, then down the stairs to my bike. I pull the helmet over my wet hair. It used to bother me. Now my head is already pounding with everything I can’t shut off.
I swing a leg over the seat and turn the engine. I twist the throttle and shoot down the road, the wind tearing at my jacket.
I promise you, Carmen. I will fucking protect you. I swear I will. Even if I have to drag you back and lock you inside these walls.
I step into the bar. Papers and photos of the Harrington house are spread across the pool table. The President looks up as I approach and gives a short nod.
“You’re late.”
He jerks his chin for me to come closer. I move in. Cigarette smoke fills my lungs before I even reach the table. Nico presses one into my hand.
