He somehow thinks I’m involved?
That means Preston thought I was, too, when he brought me here.
My heart splinters in my chest, some of the pieces skimming my throat as I bite down the urge to heave. My pulse sprints. The image of their bodies, with holes where their hearts should be, extracts all the oxygen out of the air, so that I can’t inhale a full breath.
I’m hyperventilating.
Choking on my lungs.
I can’t talk while my brain processes Arden’s words, and I watch him hold the barrel steady on Preston’s forehead. The man who I thought entered my life in the worst way, but has consumed me in the best way since then. It's painful to think about going a day without him around.
Like today, when I didn’t get to see him.
The feeling churning in my chest and stabbing my heart like blades isn’t just fearing that Arden might kill his own son. It’s blended with something beautifully soul-consuming.
I gasp a tattered breath, my voice wobbling so bad I don’t know if my words will make sense through the violent fog claiming Arden. “I-I’ll tell you anything,” I hiccup. “Just please don’t hurt him.”
Arden’s fingers turn white around the gun. “Better hurry up. My fury is making my finger trigger hungry.”
“Oh, God,” I breathe, shaking—the movement causing the binds to dig into my skin further.
When I glance from Arden to Preston, Preston holds my eyes. “It’s okay. Tell him,” Preston’s voice trembles. It’s the first time I’ve seen him shaken up.
I nod, my lip quivering, and let the shitshow that is my life spill across the room, giving Arden the name of the man who brought me here.
THIRTY-THREE | PRESTON
Xander.
No last name yet.
I burn that name into my memory, engraving it into the place where it will soon be marked off, along with all the other people I eliminated who plagued this earth.
The moment she said his name, I planned to head straight to Brody with that information. But then I looked back into Kate’s fearful and thankful eyes when my father finally lowered the gun he had positioned between my eyes, and my homicidal instinct shifted to caring for her in any way she needed me.
Arden’s silence was deafening as he processed Kate’s story. Maybe he could feel that she was being truthful. Or perhaps the thought of being at another dead end of finding who’s infiltrating our walls had sent him into a spiral. His eyes were swirling with a heady blend of remorse and anger.
He had a gun pointed at his son’s head.
I’m sure that will never sit well with him for the rest of his life, knowing how deeply he feels.
How deeply he cares.
How profoundly he hurts, even when he tries not to show it.
It’s the only reason I could understand where he was coming from. I’m not validating his violence; he terrified the fuck out of me. But love makes you do eccentric things.
It manipulates you.
Haunts you when it’s no longer physical, and only a memorial piece of it lingers out of reach.
Arden lost the love of his life too soon. Lost a daughter who had him wrapped around her finger since the day she was born.
A wife who was the sunshine in his life and a daughter who was the moon and the stars. Without them, he couldn’t function, but he’s been trying.
After Kate told him the truth, he shut down. He moved out of the room mechanically before briefly glancing over his shoulder and apologizing. Then he left us, not looking back. I haven’t seen him since I brought Kate back to the estate and drew her a bath in my tub.
Honestly, I thought she would want to be alone after tonight, but I didn’t want to leave her alone, and I get the sense she didn’t want to do the same to me.
