They could return to the Abandon, and he’d welcome them with open arms if they swore loyalty.
Then I’d either be dragged along…or forced to stand against them.
It’d be four against one.
“Thayla.” Amick’s quiet tone has me nearly jumping out of my skin.
My ragged breaths echo through our living room, but the otherwise silence coming from them breaks through my panic.
There’s no stopping the tremors wreaking havoc on me right now, but I suppress my desire to run. I force myself to focus on him.
None of them have moved from the positions they were in, but the body language of each of them has changed.
My breathing levels out the longer I observe them.
Amick stands tall, posture perfect, chin tilted, and face void of emotion. Except for his eyes.
Those citrine crystal candies ask me something I can’t quite wrap my mind around. Any other time, I’d never have to decipher anything when it comes to him. Right now, though, his message isn’t coming through clearly.
Kyzen’s shoulders are slumped, and his hands are flexing in his pockets. His smile, if I can even call it that, is sad. There’s an acceptance surrounding him that I don’t understand.
I don’t believe Creed is looking at me but through me. He’s so still. There’s no tugging, no sensation spreading through my heart other than my own panic. Deep inside, though, I sense he’s searching my soul. For what, I don’t know.
Riven…I’ve never seen him so clear. He’s shaking in his skin just as I am, yet it’d seem neither of his two sides is lending him a helping hand. Burgundy and blue glare back at me, not swirling but colliding nonetheless. They’re begging me to react so he can be set free. One way or another.
Their fear is as obvious as my own.
The way they froze at the door speaks louder now than it did then. That was true terror. No part of them would ever think about returning to that place, no matter any power promised.
Shit…the things my Valtrue’s been through.
I can’t imagine the reality of that.
Gods, what was I thinking?
The worst…as you always do.
They’ve had every chance to show me cruelty and never have. Even now, with their truth lingering in the air, they wait patiently as I freak the fuck out.
My secrets were accepted with so much more grace.
The way they’re reacting, what they’re waiting for becomes crystal clear, and guilt slices me in half.
They hoped for the best but prepared for the worst. They’re waiting for the rejection—my rejection.
They’ve readied themselves for my fear.
Of them.
Those fears continue to deepen the longer I study them.
In different ways, they each deflate.
Torturously.
You’re letting your own fears fester, and that’s not fair.
You’re hurting them.
