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“What did you do to Asher?”
“Are you worried about him? It’s so unlike you, Diya. You don’t worry about other men. Everything is always about you and your sisters.”
“I-I don’t—”
He laughed. “You’re worried. I can see it now. Are you in love with him, Diya? If I had known, I’d have killed him just to punish you.” Declan hummed before he plunged a syringe into my neck, his fingers quick and efficient. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
He tossed the syringe aside and pulled a shiny Glock from inside his jacket.
I saw broken black shards floating in my eyes. Soon, I’d lose consciousness, and I’d once again find myself duct taped to a fucking table. No way in hell.
I desperately scanned the ground. I knew these woods, the poisons that grew in beautiful hues. I just had to find something.
“I’m sorry to have interrupted your game,” he said, voice smug. “But you don’t deserve to laugh or love after what you did. Don’t try anything funny. Do as I say.” He pressed the gun against my head.
I nodded.
“Let’s go back to your house, shall we?” Declan said. I stumbled against a gnarled root and went to the ground. “Don’t be so clumsy.”
Grunting, I pushed my hand against the ground and stopped when my eyes met the bell-shaped white flowers. It was like a fucking glowing halo against the darkness.
Oh.
I crawled toward the plant, my heart pounding in my chest. Just a few more inches. I grabbed the branch as Declan reached for me.
I yanked the flowers out and hid them in my palm as he pulled me up.
“Are you going to crawl to your house?” he said. “Let’s hurry the fuck up. I have another surgery the day after tomorrow, and you have to die before that.” The gun dug into my back, and we stumbled through the dark until I saw the light from my room.
You’ll be alright, Asher, I thought to myself as we entered the living room.
“Sit down. I’m thirsty from fighting that asshole.”
I gritted my teeth but sat down anyway.
“What’s your last wish, Diya?” he asked, voice smug.
“Don’t sound so sure. I might have some trick up my sleeve.”
“You wouldn’t be talking about it if you had, Diya. Stop trying to outsmart me,” he said, gulping down a bottle of water before slamming it against the kitchen counter. I hoped he would put the gun down, but he was holding on to it like his whole life depended on it. “I’ll kill you tonight.”
“Then do it.”
His fingers went to the trigger as he leveled the gun at me. I was so sure that what he did was to soothe his bruised ego, but I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it wasn’t just his hurt pride.
I might have underestimated his capacity to feel, to love.
“I’m sorry, though, Dex. I shouldn’t have used you.”
27
WHEN THE MASK BREAKS
DIYA
His eyes burned with hurt and denial.
“That won’t help you.”
