Page 97 of Grace

“Your brother has no right to do this! And you had no right to do what you did, either! I don’t know what you think you are, but… you can’t do this to people!”

“There’s no one who can stop us.”

“You’re wrong!”

He’s suddenly in front of me. My head slams into his chest. I bounce back and tilt my face up to meet his eyes. Cold raindrops lash our faces.

“Prove it.” His lips pull into a scornful, lopsided smile.

My jaw tightens.

“Where is Ortíz’s son?” I demand, teeth clenched.

“Somewhere safe.”

“He’s only a child, Chase. You can’t do this. You can’t kill him. You can’t just kill anyone who touches me!”

“Cause and effect, Grace.”

“Just like the beatings?” Chase had no idea how much damage he’d done to my heart.

“I had to, Grace. If I hadn’t, he might’ve taken you from me for good. And he’s not exactly known for mercy.”

“You had to? No one had to do it! You’re manipulating me—making excuses for your behavior! You could’ve let me go! You never should’ve kidnapped me in the first place! You stole my life!” I scream at him out here in the middle of nowhere.

“If I’d let you go, you would’ve told the police everything. You would’ve put yourself and your family in danger.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my family!” I slap him. “Don’t you dare,” I hiss.

“You saw what he did to your brother. Lucas doesn’t mess around. And if I hadn’t taken you with me… Mr. Miller wouldn’t have stopped. Maybe not right then, but eventually he would’ve done it. And you know what would’ve happened afterward? Nothing. You’d have gone on living with a huge scarlet letter, drowning in shame, while he would have gotten transferred to another school. I know how this goes. Schools cover things up and shift the blame onto you to protect their reputation. I, at least, went to jail.”

“Do you think that’s enough for what you did? Two years, Chase. You were only in jail for two years for kidnapping and murder. Two goddamn years. Do you think that’s enough? Not even close.”

I’m crying. I’m angry. I’m alive.

For the first time in years, I feel like I’m breathing. Like I’ve broken the surface after drowning for too long. It scares me that I needed Chase for this. When I’m with him, I feel like I’m allowed to be angry, sad, and lost. Like I’m allowed to let out the pain I’ve been choking down.

For the past few years, I’ve been trying to act normal. But that was the worst thing I could’ve done. The pain and the anger didn’t go away. They just grew and grew. And I was terrified to make a decision on my own—to speak up, or do anything that might condemn me. Because I was living in the shadow of my past. I was afraid they’d sedate me and lock me in a mental hospital. I was afraid to talk about my emotions because I knew no one would understand.

“Fuck!” I moan and wipe my nose. “You stole my life. I couldn’t mourn my parents properly. I couldn’t be there for their funeral. Jamie didn’t even have one. Because of you!” I shout.

“You need dry clothes.”

“You think I’m going with you?”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“The other day you told me I did.”

“You do have a choice.”

I remember what he once told me. “You never chose me, Grace. Even though we both know that—”

I open my mouth to protest, then close it. If it really was someone else who sent me those bizarre gifts, I’m in deep shit. And it takes a lunatic to fight a lunatic. Because I have no idea who could’ve gotten their hands on my diary. Who has it now? Who’s reading the secrets I’d been so careful to hide from the world?

When I moved to that farmhouse at twenty and looked through my old things, I missed it. But I figured my siblings must’ve thrown it out because they didn’t want to haul unnecessary stuff with them. And I was secretly hoping Nikky hadn’t gotten her hands on it. But what if she did?

My stomach clenches. What kind of madmen watch that site? What else are they capable of? If they get hard-ons from violence… what would they do to me?