The water was liquid fire, scalding away the stench of death that lingered on my skin and erasing the sick, haunting image of the man’s skull exploding. I braced both palms against the tile and let the water pour over my back.
Rivulets of red ran down my legs. Then pink. Then clear. But the ghost of it wouldn’t go away completely. I scrubbed my arms until they burned. My chest. My throat. My fingers. Again. Again.
My knees gave out.
I slid down to the floor and pulled them to my chest. The sobs didn’t come—just shudders, like something inside me had broken, and I didn’t know how to scream.
My mind wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace, replaying everything over and over. His face before it blew apart. The sound. The spray. My desperation to get away.
I pressed my palms over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut to block it out, but I couldn’t.
Then an image of those angry eyes flashed through my mind—hiseyes, the guy from Cipher. Why had he been watching me, following me, scowling at me?! He hadn’t made any attempt to hurt me or even speak to me. He’d just stood there, looking pissed as hell. For God’s sake, all I’d done was serve him a cup of coffee and a little sass.
It wasn’t merely his pale aquamarine irises, sun-darkened skin, and black hair that held me captive. It was the unspoken threat and raw power within him that stripped me of my own will. It was as if he could read my thoughts, latch onto my soul, and yank it from my very body. Whoever he was, he was dangerous and had developed a twisted interest in me—wanted something from me—and that wasn’t good. The anger he exuded told me that much.
My mind was running wild. Tonight, my life had changed forever, but I had no idea how things would unfold from here. The possibilities whirled through my thoughts in a chaotic frenzy.
When the water turned cold, I finally forced myself to move and get out.
I wrapped a towel around my body and moved to the little pedestal sink. I washed off the makeup that had run down my face. Mascara was smeared under my eyes like a cruel joke. When I gazed into the mirror, the girl staring back didn’t look like me.
She looked older. Strung out.
I gripped the sink. Should I just give up? Go home? Pretend the last six months hadn’t happened?
No! I’d made a promise to give myself one year. I couldn’t stop now. I didn’t have a plan B.
I pushed away from the sink and pulled on my big, comfy T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. My skin stung under the fabric from all the scrubbing, but I still didn’t feel clean.
God, why did life have to suck so much?
When I opened the bathroom door, Jae stood waiting with a steaming mug.
“Chamomile,” he offered.
“Thanks,” I said, tucking a wet strand of hair behind my ear.
Nat didn’t hesitate; she jumped up from the futon and pulled me into a full-body hug. “Jesus, Ly. You scared the shit out of us.”
I stood there in her arms, limp.
After a few breaths, she pulled back and looked me over. “Come on. Sit.”
She guided me to the futon and dropped down beside me. Jae stood next to me.
“So, let’s hear it. What the hell happened?” Nat asked. She didn’t ever beat around the bush.
My throat tightened.
Jae glanced at her. “Jesus, Nat. Maybe give her a minute?”
“Iamgiving her a minute. I waited almost an hour while she rinsed off…whoever was on her clothes.”
I stared at the steam curling off the mug of tea. How the hell was I supposed to explain what had happened tonight?
“Someone got shot,” I said quietly. “Onstage.”
They both gasped.
