But when I walk into the kitchen, open the drawer, take out one of the steak knives inside and slip it into my hoodie’s pouch…my mind is clear.
Not hollow.
Crystalfucking clear, like the glass display shelves at the jeweler.
No pretty bracelets to be seen, though. No diamonds, sapphires. Gold or silver.
Just blood.
So much fucking blood.
Chapter 9
Haven
I wake up alone because Kai’s probably passed out drunk somewhere, like the asshole he is.
The knot in my stomach tells me I don’t get to be mad about that.
Not after whatIdid last night.
…you were right…
Fuck!
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, growling at myself.
The message I sent Bastian kept playing on repeat in my mind as I tried to fall asleep. I never turned my phone back—I didn’t dare. Instead, I cleaned the entire Airbnb, took a shower, and put on Kai’s jersey because I wanted so desperately to smell him again.
When my head hit the pillow, I wasgone.
I just woke up from the most scandalous fucking dream I’ve ever had…and it involved BastianandKai. And for once, they weren’t fighting each other.
They were fighting overme.
Damn, it was good. Felt like I was about to come for ages. I didn’t, though, and that pisses me off, because now Kai’s not even here to get me off.
I kick off the covers and sit up, dragging my hands through my hair. Kai’s football jersey clings to me with static, both comforting and damning because all I can think about is how I betrayed himwhileI was wearing his fucking clothes.
It’s so fucking quiet in here.
Too quiet.
I go into the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth, but when I catch sight of myself in the bathroom mirror, I stop. My hand flies to my neck, diving behind the neckline of Kai’s jersey to scrape my skin.
My necklace is gone.
But then I remember it broke and I let out an annoyed grunt as I hurry back to bed. I think I was holding it when I?—
My fingers glide over the sheet. Under the pillow. Slow, then frantic.
“No.” The word comes out strangled. “No, no, no?—”
I check the nightstand and under the bed, but the only thing under there is the grocery list. Wind must have blown it off the fridge. I leave it down there, because there are more important things at stake right now than fucking marshmallows.
My mind wheels as I desperately retrace my steps last night.
Tossing bottles against the wall. Tearing up study notes. Then crying. Messaging Bastian. Crying some more. Going to bed, not sleeping, cleaning the entire studio apartment just to tire myself out.
