As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt the molten flow of anger and sorrow trickle down his throat. His heart closed in on itself in a futile attempt to protect whatever little of it had remained intact. Too many secrets and too many lies made up his life, and just trying to comb through them caused his brain to pulsate uncomfortably.
“Itold you. She came after me.”
“She didn’t even know who you were when she went to Mars chasing rumors. You could’ve run.” Aiden balled his hands into fists, squeezing so hard his knuckles went white. “I read the messages. You didn’t have to kill her. You could’ve walked away and hid. But you chose not to. You chose to kill her. You chose to be a murderer.”
Aiden didn’t know why it mattered so much to him to hear Darren say it. He could pretty much guess the reason, put the pieces together, and arrive at Darren’s motivation. Did that excuse Darren’s crime? Not at all and neither would saying it out loud change anything… yet he wanted that confession all the same.
Darren smiled, a resigned, sad smile that betrayed a deeper emotion. Anger… but not at himself for what he’d done. It was aimed at Aiden for stating what both of them knew to be true—that, despite doing it to protect an heir on the run, Darren had made the conscious choice to end Claudia’s life.
“Your fiancée,” Darren said in what sounded like practiced detachment, “was Marcus’ best agent. The only one to get that close. I don’t think that you really knew her and what she was capable of.” He sounded regretful, though Aiden wasn’t sure if it was because of how close to capturing him she’d gotten or because Aiden had been unaware of that side of her. He chose not to speculate. “Ihadto get to her or…”
That red-hot anger rose in Aiden, demanding to be let out. To hurt, to break, to make Darren pay for—
Darren’s words replayed in his brain, something clicking into place.
I had to get to her.
He sprung up from the bench and grabbed Darren by the collar of his jumpsuit, dragging him up. “Didyoulure her there?” he panted, eyes wide and head splitting.No, no, no.This… this couldn’t be. Darren couldn’t have done something like that…
Darren turned his head away, averting his gaze.
Aiden’s heart froze all over and sank to his feet.No. He shook with anger, vibrating as an earthquake of a tremor started out from his chest. He was breaking, he could feel it. He was going to lose it and kill Darren Howe with his bare hands right here and now.
Shoving Darren to the side, Aiden stumbled to the glass and placed his forehead against it, trying to steady his breathing and heart.
“I wanted to—”
“Leave,” he snapped, his voice a croak among his wheezing exhale.
“Ai—”
“Leave I said!” Aiden shouted, squeezing his eyes shut and focusing all his willpower on keeping himself rooted to where he was standing.
Darren cursed and then said something—a protest maybe, or perhaps an excuse. But Aiden didn’t really hear him. Couldn’t, not when it was taking everything he had in him to resist the heart-gutting urge to put an end to Darren Howe’s life.
After he got no response, Darren eventually stormed away. Aiden didn’t leave his spot by the window until long after the sound of prisoners playing football behind him ceased reaching his ears.
The amount of whiskey Aiden chugged down that night was far above his usual consumption levels. It went straight to his head, making the world around him swim in blurry stills of his apartment. He tripped at least a dozen times before he reached his bed, somehow managing not to smash his nose on the beige tiles. He didn’t even bother crawling under the blanket and just flopped on top of it, still clothed in his impeccable slate suit. He dreamed about Sara in the dark room, and then about the bar on Mars, about Claudia visiting it and looking for Darren because Darren had lured her there. He wanted to stop her from going, but every time he tried, something prevented him from going after her as if he was physically chained to their apartment on Earth.
Sometime later, Aiden abruptly woke up in the middle of yet another iteration of the torturous dream. He was sweating and panting and didn’t know what time it was exactly, nor where he’d tossed his phone or bag. He was also shivering, feeling a chill in his bones from the cool evening breeze whooshing past him as it slipped into his bedroom through the open windows.
Aiden’s attention shifted to his bedroom door and the darkness beyond it.He must have left an open window in the lounge, too. The light fabric of the curtains rustled softly, ushering him to close his eyes again. He gave in, not in the mood to deal with the horrible headache he was suffering from, just as athudsounded from somewhere in his apartment. A door closing because of the wind, he assumed and ignored it, burying his nose in his sheets.
A muffledthumpcame a few heartbeats later. Then another one. He ignored those too, or at least tried to until he started wondering if maybe he’d not closed the water faucet properly. Or had he left a tap running?
Morethumpsreached his ears, then a shuffling noise… like there was some animal pacing about in the living room. Rats, maybe? No… Something bigger.
Thethudsounded again, this time clearer to pick out.
An icy chill sobered him up.These were a person’s footsteps.There was someone in his apartment.
Aiden’s blood froze. His eyes shot open, his mind suddenly impossibly sharp despite the alcohol. He strained his hearing, hunting for even the smallest of sounds.
Someone had broken into his place in the middle of the night.
Heart hammering, he stood up, taking extra care not to make any noise. The paralyzing gun he kept for self-defense was in the nightstand on the window’s side. He’d not thought he’d ever have to use it, but he was glad he had it charged all the same.
Crouching lower, he made his way to the nightstand while not taking his eyes off the bedroom door. Once he had the gun in his hand, he felt less exposed, less defenseless, because he could protect himself from whoever was about to discover that Aiden’s apartment held no valuables worth stealing.
