by W Winters
What is she saying? No! I scream but there’s no sound that escapes from my mouth. The room is silent, save her plea to me. “It’s okay. When it happens… I’m okay dying for you. I just need you to forgive me, please. Forgive me and love me, as I love you. I’ll always love you.”
The prick at the back of my neck flows down every inch of my skin. The room darkens and I still can’t breathe. I can’t think. She can’t be dead. Aria! I scream again, but it’s silent.
“We don’t have much time. Please, please, Carter. Forgive me.” Her eyes search mine as I scream and it’s then she sees my mouth moving but there’s no sound.
She yells something at me as the distance between us stretches, but her voice is gone.
Aria! I scream her name, reaching for her and holding on to her cold hands with every ounce of strength I have. Don’t leave me! I forgive you! I pray she hears me but all she does is cry as the darkness invades every sense I have.
The gasp that fills my chest sends a pain spiking down my back and I fall off the sofa and onto the hard floor of the office. I’m sweating and my heart is beating wildly in my chest.
My elbow scrapes against the floor as I struggle to get up fast enough.
“Aria!” I scream out, even though there’s no way for her to hear me. “Aria!” It’s all I can say as I run to her, to my bedroom and throw the door open to find her small form in bed. It’s not enough. I can’t swallow, I can’t breathe, I can’t do anything until I yank the covers back and see her chest rise and fall. She moans a small protest in her sleep from the cold, but even still, I lay my hand against her chest, right where it was moments ago, but there’s warmth and the steady beat of her heart.
There’s a suffocating lump in my throat at the sight of her. Still alive and still here with me. I fall to my knees beside her before covering her with the sheets again.
She doesn’t stir from her sleep, and a glance at the nightstand reveals a bottle of painkillers she must have found in the bathroom. It makes sense, given her arm. She’s passed out after taking the last two pills I had. But she’s here, and she’s alive.
It was only a dream. But it felt so fucking real. I struggle to breathe on the floor beside her and even worse, I struggle to get the vision of her out of my head.
I won’t sleep until this is over.
I’ve never hated myself more. I don’t care if she lied. I don’t care if those words didn’t come from her. I’ve never loved anything or anyone in this life like I do her, the Aria I know, the woman who I know loves me in return. The girl I took and broke, then placed the splintered pieces back together as best I could.
I won’t let her die.
Aria Talvery, my songbird, can’t die.
Chapter 86
Aria
There’s so much pain when I wake up, I feel sick. Literally sick to my stomach as I roll onto the wrong side, my left side, and a screaming pain shoots down my back and then travels up the front of me.
Seething through my clenched teeth, my eyes open wide as I bolt awake in the late morning and I struggle not to vomit.
I wish I could say I was drunk when I lost my shit last night. That’s exactly what I did. I have lost all composure when it comes to this man.
It takes me a long time, longer than it should, to realize I’m alone in the bedroom. I expected to see him on the chair watching me, or in bed. I’m not sure why I expected it. I shouldn’t have. He’s never here in the morning. But we’ve never been like this before. So broken and each of us hurting the other.
We aren’t throwing stones; we’re tipping boulders over a steep cliff while the other lies helplessly in the dirt below.
I chose him. I wanted to be with him, and he’s choosing to make me feel so fucking alone. The thin top sheet gathers in my hands as fists form and I struggle to hold back the pain from everything.
Waking up alone hurts more than it ever has before. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to be hurting. I don’t want to be the cause of Carter’s pain either. And I think that’s all I’ll ever be. After last night, I don’t know how I could ever be anything but a painful reminder to him.
Cradling my sore shoulder, I sit up on the bed and let my legs hang off the side as I test out my arm. It hurts like a bitch, but it’s my own damn fault. The deep gouges in my wrist are worse though.
The floor’s cold under my bare feet as I make my way to the bathroom in search of more painkillers and something I can use to clean the cuts. I don’t find either, but I get ready, thinking about the bathroom located off the foyer. I bet there’s some in there.
All the while I brush my teeth, I stare at myself in the mirror. As I brush my hair, my reflection does the same, watching the woman I am. There’s not an ounce of happiness. There’s nothing but darkness.
I read in some article a while back, that pets start to look like their owners because they learn to mimic their facial expressions. It’s the same with adopted children resembling parents who aren’t biological. The more time spent with someone, the more you inherit their features.
And as I stare at myself, all I see is the darkness that is Carter. The brewing pain deep inside. It inhabits me in a way I hadn’t seen before.
The room is silent as I turn off the water and carefully set my brush on the granite counter.
None of this belongs to me. None of it is mine.
Every piece was a gift, comfort items meant to placate me. With a step back, it’s hard to swallow. With a peek up in the mirror, it’s hard to withstand the sight.
It’s never been more clear to me that I need to leave than in this moment. Carter Cross is a drug I’ll never kick. A drug that’s seeped into my veins and wrapped its way around every small piece of me.
I’m addicted to what he does to me and he’ll just continue to hurt me. He knows how much he hurts me, as do I, and yet here I am.
When I turn my back, it feels like someone else is there, someone behind me. The girl in the mirror maybe. She’s watching me and it sends pricks down my neck as I slowly leave the bathroom, too cold and disturbed to dare shut the door.
Even as I dress, slowly and with a searing burn every time I have to move my left shoulder, I stare at the bathroom as if somewhere deep inside, a part of me is waiting for a person to leave it.
I can’t shake this feeling. Not until I leave the bedroom. At least for a moment.
It feels too empty as I walk alone to the foyer bathroom. I’m hollow inside with the wretched truth so clear in my mind.
Leaving someone who hurts you shouldn’t feel like this. Like you’re losing a part of your soul. As if inside, there’s a fissure that’s expanding, and as it does, it’s damaging whatever it is that makes a person alive. Whatever makes me feel is being scarred with every step I take.
Because the closer I get to the front door, the more I want to leave and never look back.
I could never, even for a second, look behind. I can already imagine his face and the way he’d look at me if I left him.
I can feel his pain.
As I round the corner, I’m careful to contain my emotions so I don’t break down again.
With a quick intake of air, I stiffen the moment I look ahead of me, straight at the open bathroom door.
Even my heart stills, not wanting me to be heard or seen.
Addison doesn’t see me as she pulls her hair into a ponytail. She’s in her head, I know she is. I can practically see the wheels spinning as she walks down the right hall, past the bathroom.
It’s only when she’s out of sight that I even dare breathe.
I still don’t move though. My limbs don’t allow it.
How did I let my life come to this? Where I’m afraid to see the only friend I’m able to interact with because … because why? Because I’m ashamed, and scared, and miserable with who I am and the choices I’ve made, and I can’t tell her any of that… because she’s on the side of the enemy.
That fissure deep inside of me, the on
e destroying everything in its path, rips me wide fucking open as I walk as quietly as I can to the small half bath and close the door.
The click sounds like the loudest thing I’ve ever heard as I sit down on the toilet and cover my face with my hands.
I feel hot and immediately I have the urge again to vomit as I reach up and my shoulder sends a bolt of pain down my back. Fuck!
I bite down on the inside of my cheek so hard, I can taste the metallic tang of blood. It was worth it not to scream though. Still, I want to scream so badly. I want to get all of this out of me.
I’m stronger than this, but it feels like there’s something inside of me that’s falling apart in a way where I know it will never be whole again.
There’s a line in one of my favorite stories from Alice in Wonderland, that goes something to the effect of, there’s no use to going back to yesterday, you’re a different person than you were then.
I hate that line now. I used to love it. I could have lived by that sentiment, feeling purposeful and fulfilled. Right now? The very idea of that quote forces me to jump off the toilet seat so I can hurl what little I have inside of me into the bowl.
It’s fucking disgusting. The taste, the smell, the burning feeling. And when I’m done, while I’m washing my mouth out with the running water, I don’t feel any better at all.
Deep breaths get me through cleaning it all up. It’s when I’m searching under the sink for a new hand towel to replace the one I used to wipe my mouth that I see the box of pregnancy tests.
Addison.
“Oh my god.” The words leave me in a whisper and for the first time this morning I smile. It’s only a hint of one, but now I have a light that’s growing, if dim. She’s pregnant. I fall down on my ass and lean against the wall as I hold the box of pregnancy tests and wonder what she’s feeling and thinking. She’s going to have a baby. And what a wonderful mother she’ll be. I know she will.
The light inside of me is quick to fade though as I realize she didn’t tell me. But maybe there’s nothing to tell. The thick wrapper on the test I pull out crinkles in my hand and I think back to my last period… before all of this started.
The days have faded and with the shot Carter gave me, I never considered any other reason for not getting my period.
I’m constantly tired, irritated and emotional, and now sick. Sick to my stomach. But sick and tired would also describe anyone in my situation. Still, a heated wave of anxiousness rolls through me until I move to take the test.
Tick.
Tick.
Time passes and my thoughts run wild.
Tick.
Tick.
Time passes as the turmoil and sickness subside, leaving a dust to settle and a clear picture to form.
Tick.
Tick.
I don’t know how long I sit there holding the box.
Or how long I wonder if it’s worthless. If all of this is worthless.
I don’t need a friend. I don’t need someone to love me either.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
Chapter 87
Carter
I can’t get the sound of her pleading for me to forgive her out of my head. The words are etched inside of me, ricocheting around the walls of every room I enter.
Exactly how her words years ago followed me, but these pleas are haunting in a way I’ve never felt.
It was too real.
Even though I’m in my desk chair, waiting on my brothers, I can’t stop staring at where she was last night. I’m still staring at the spot when the door opens and that’s when I glance at the monitor, expecting to see Aria sleeping, but she’s already up and getting dressed.
I don’t know who’s come in, but I start talking anyway. “We need to call the doctor.” I let the air in my lungs leave me before seeing Jase and Declan walk in and each take a seat. Jase sits easily in the chair in front of the desk on the right. Declan leaves the one on the left, presumably for Sebastian or Daniel.
Sebastian got in late last night to his place, where he slept, going against what I recommended, and he’s on his way here now. I need him here. I need my friend to help me figure out what’s wrong with me.
Declan leans against the bookshelf, slipping his phone into his pocket and letting his head fall back against the wooden slat to ask me, “The doctor?”
His brow is pinched and I take a moment to really look at him. He’s aged so much in the last few years.
I can hear Daniel’s heavy steps sounding down the hall as I nod at Declan, feeling my throat getting tighter even though I attempt to relax and lean back into my chair. “Aria hurt her shoulder last night.”
The pain in my chest radiates. “Last night was difficult.” I can’t look my brothers in the eyes, and Daniel walks in just then. The door closes quietly as I peek back to the sofa I slept on last night and then to Daniel, who asks for the time.
“We have six minutes,” Jase answers him and quickly gets back to me and my lost thoughts. “What’d she do?” he asks me.
Shame is bitter. It tastes so fucking bitter.
“Is she all right?” Declan asks, and Daniel is quick to ask what’s wrong as he takes the left seat across from my desk.
“Aria hurt her shoulder last night is all. She’s fine,” I say. It’s a lie and with how silent the room is, my brothers know it too. I can’t tell them what happened though. I can barely stand to look at myself, knowing what happened last night.
“Five minutes.” Jase breaks the silence, lifting his arm to check his watch. The light glints off the shiny metal and I welcome the distraction. I wish I hadn’t brought it up at all, but I’m not used to hiding anything from my brothers.
“When we’re done, I’ll handle that, but this call will hopefully give us something.”
“Just so you know, we gave the last case of guns to Romano and pulled everyone.”
“So they have everything they wanted?” Daniel clarifies with Jase at the news, and Jase nods.
We’ve been involved enough, and Talvery doesn’t have the men to threaten us anymore.
“Good,” Declan remarks, “Let the two of them kill each other.”
My grip tightens on the smooth leather of the armrest as I stare at Jase and tell him, “All I want is to keep them all away from here.” He nods easily at first, in complete agreement but when he looks back at me, his expression becomes more serious. “No one gets close,” I say, and my voice hardens, thinking about keeping Aria safe. I won’t let her die.
“Of course,” Jase tells me, his gaze searching my face for what’s changed since I last spoke to him yesterday about pulling everyone. I know I’m still shaken and out of everyone, I know Jase can tell something’s off.
I’m saved from his inquisition as the door opens, and Sebastian comes in. His hair is longer, his scruff now a short and neatly trimmed beard. His eyes have aged, but the man I once knew like a brother, walks into the office and I can feel the tension start to leave my body almost immediately.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“Welcome home,” I tell him, meeting his gaze, but my own words are drowned out by those of my brothers. When we were younger, Sebastian was all we had to guide us.
My body’s stiff as I make my way around to greet him. Seeing him is bittersweet. Time has passed, and both of us have changed. But in this cruel world we live in where you have to fight to survive, there’s nothing like a friend who’s been there every time you’ve needed them.
In Sebastian’s case, every time but one, but there’s no time to dwell on the past. Again my gaze shifts to the empty sofa as I head back toward my seat.
I’m still so fucking cold, and for a moment I feel like I can’t breathe again.
“It’s good to see you guys again,” Sebastian says and then takes us in one by one.
“I wish things were different,” I tell him and no words could speak more truth.
“It’s only a little bloodshed,” Sebastian offers, smirking a
nd leaning back against the wall.
“You all right?” he asks me, and he doesn’t hide the concern in his question. He never has, and with those words I’m taken back to when I was only a child and all the times he asked me the exact same thing.
“I’m ready for this to be over,” I answer him and we share a knowing look.
“I guess it’s good that I came then.” His answer is firm, but comes out in a way that makes me feel slightly relieved.
I give him as much of a genuine smile as I can as he walks over the spot Aria was in last night and then back to the door. It was only a dream. I have to remind myself.
Sebastian asks Declan as he leans against the closed door, “Are you all set?” My brother gives him a nod, and an arrogant smirk in return.
Declan stalks from the bookshelf and walks closer to the desk, his eyes on the telephone seated in the left corner as he says, “Tracers are on and these are new. Even if he’s bouncing his signal off multiple towers, or the call cuts off in seconds, I can find him.”
My back is stiff with tension… but also the creeping feeling of danger. We’re going to hunt down the grim reaper, one of the names Marcus goes by.
“Are you sure?” He nods at Daniel’s question and then all of us stare at the phone, preparing to get answers we’ve waited far too long for as it rings, as if daring Declan to be right.
Ring.
I can feel the desk vibrate and the small shaking movements of the phone as I reach for it.
Lifting the handset up and putting it on speaker, I let Marcus know we’re all here.
“The Cross brothers,” he speaks. Marcus, the grim reaper, the ghost… whatever name he goes by, he’s finally gracing us with a call. My teeth clench when I hear his voice, and my blood goes cold.
His voice has always reminded me of a snake. Not a snake you can easily kill by cutting off its head, but the kind of snake that myths make immortal.