“Is how the fuck you could think that about me? How can you look me in the eye and paint me as the villain? Because it’s ripped my goddamn heart out.”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Owen stands facing me, chest heaving, hands fisted in his hair before he drops them to his sides, waiting. Just waiting for me to reply.
Such a simple question.
How?
How could I think that?
But nothing comes. Because I don’t know. Because maybe I am that broken. Maybe I’ve spent so many years being lied to, being twisted into what Andrews needed me to be, that I can’t tell the difference between truth and manipulation anymore.
“I can’t do this—I’m sorry.” I turn, needing space, air, something—
Owen grabs my wrist.
“No. Not this time.” His grip is firm, but not painful. His voice low and steady. “You’re not running. No one’s shooting at us. No distraction. There’s nothing else going on right now. It’s just me and you, under the stars, talking about an insignificant moment.”
“But it’s not though, is it?” My voice breaks, chin dropping as I squeeze my eyes shut, because I can’t take it—his pain, his anger, the weight of my actions and choices. “Nothing about us is insignificant.”
Owen exhales, and then he’s in front of me, tilting my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his.
“There it is.” His voice is softer, but no less intense. “The realisation! Nothing in our lives, Luce, is insignificant. You’ve been taught someone else’s values and morals. You’ve been hard coded to be exactly what Andrews wanted you to be—a weapon. But I see through it. I see you. The scared little girl who grew up in a broken system, in a crappy foster home, with someone who loved her more than anything else in the world.” He swallows hard, his hand still on my chin, holding me there. Making me listen. “You’ve pushed back every real emotion because it’s easier. You made me the villain because it’s easier than facing the truth. That we are both to blame for our past. Not just me.”
“Owen—”
“And yet, you stand there, and all I see is a coward.” His voice cuts through the night, straight into my chest, sharp and painful. “Still wanting to run at the first opportunity because that’s easier than dealing with the emotions clawing at your throat, ripping at your chest, screaming to be let out. But you won’t. You’re still biting your tongue. Still shoving them down into that fucking box where you lock everything away. Why?”
He steps into me, and I step back. But it’s not enough. His words are already there, circling around me, pressing and suffocating. Because he’s right. Every single fucking word he’s said is right.
Something has shifted and I have nothing. No quick retort. No sarcastic remark. No anger to misdirect. Nothing but the cold, crushing realisation that everything I’ve built my life around has been a lie.
James told me he had run.
That he didn’t care. That I wasn’t worth fighting for.
Andrews said he searched for him but couldn’t find him. And I believed him.
Because believing him meant there was a reason for the emptiness. Because if Owen had been out there, I would have gone to him. And that wasn’t what Andrews wanted.
That wasn’t how he could manipulate me, to mould me, to break me, to make me his.
He used my love against me.
He twisted my past, carved it into a weapon, and aimed it straight at my fucking heart.
I’m so stupid.
Owen exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I would never have left you there. And I’m sorry that you feel guilty, that you think you’re responsible for me going to prison.”
“I am.”
His jaw tightens, but he nods. “Yeah, you are. But you didn’t know that’s what would happen, otherwise you’d never have done it. You killed someone who tormented and raped you. You killed someone who was already dying. I don’t blame you for it, Luce.”
I close my eyes, a shuddering breath slipping past my lips.
His palm rests on my cheek, warm against the cold night, his touch grounding me when everything else feels like it’s slippingaway. A tendril of my hair brushes my face, and he tucks it behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin.
“I can’t blame you for that. If he was still breathing, we’d be going there next.”
