Page 23 of Oblivion
“Storm is going to be okay,” he murmured into my ear. “I might not like him in general, but he is a good man.”
“I know,” I whispered. “That’s why he can never find out where I am.”
I looked up at him, hating how shallow his eyes were. He was worried about me, trying to get me comfortable, trying to help me, yet he was falling apart right in front of my eyes. The long-sleeved shirt he wore was just the armor he decided to put on, to hide the scars from me, from Kieran, from the rest of the world…
“What do you mean?” He was confused by my answer and slowly, he released me from his hold.
“After this is done, Kill,” I looked around us at the cabin, “I am going to disappear for a little while.”
“What?”
“They’re not safe with me, and I don’t want to have a repeat of what happened in the clubhouse. You know as much as I do that what we’re doing here isn’t going to earn us any points with these three organizations, and it seems that there’s an even bigger fish at play in all of this.”
“Does he know?” Cillian took a step closer to me, the tick in his jaw more prominent as he stepped underneath the light.
“Who?” I arched an eyebrow. “Storm? Since when do you care about him?”
“Since I’ve realized that he is the best thing that could ever happen to you. I don’t care about him.” His brows furrowed. “I care about you and the fact that leaving him behind is eating you alive. Would you really be able to forget what you’ve shared with him, huh? Love doesn’t work like that, Phee. It isn’t a switch you can play with. You can’t just turn it off and forget about the person you love, just because it doesn’t suit your current agenda.”
“You don’t know anything, Kill.”
“Oh, yeah? He makes you feel alive, and not in a toxic way like Kieran. He makes you want to be a better person. The Ophelia I used to know would’ve killed Vincent yesterday, no questions asked. You would’ve killed anyone standing in your way and you wouldn’t even blink. There you were, drowning, looking for an exit and life gave it to you. It sent you him. You were happy with him. Those months you spent with him without all this bullshit were the most peaceful months in your life.”
“And then they took it away from me!” I roared. “I was done with this. Done with this life, with this mess, with everything! I just wanted to find Maya, and then I was going to stop fighting, running, all of it.. Yes, I was happy,” I cried out. “I was so fucking happy, but my past couldn’t let me go, and I fucked it all up. My father also decided to fuck it all up, and before I could enjoy any of it, the beauty of a simple life, it was torn away from me. So yes, Kill, I am running away from him. I am giving him the option to have a better life without me in it.”
“That’s a bitter bravery, my silly little heart. You’re running away from him and you’re tearing your soul apart.”
His words cut deep, deeper than anything else I have ever felt, because he was right. He was so right, but there was nothing I could do about it.
I wanted Storm to be safe. I wanted Atlas, Felix, Zoe, even fucking Indigo, to be safe. And none of them would ever be if I stayed with them.
“I would rather break my own heart and tear up my own soul than watch them die,” I mumbled. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a shower and go to sleep.”
“Phee—”
He stepped toward me, but I didn’t have it in me to stay and listen. As if I didn’t know that I was running. As if I didn’t know how bad it looked or how messed up all of this was. But his happiness came before mine. I couldn’t save him before, but I could now.
Now I could give him what he always wanted—freedom.
* * *
People meditatedto get into that Zen mode, or whatever the fuck it was called—I tortured villains. Or well, the ones I considered to be villains.
That whole downward dog and all those other positions never did anything but piss me off even more. What fucking deep breathing? My first and last Yoga class ended up with me threatening the instructor and getting the fuck out of there. I know, I know, it truly did help many people, but it simply wasn’t for me.
My brain didn’t know how to shut up. Every time I closed my eyes and tried to meditate, something would pop up—a memory, a thing I needed to do, Storm, Storm, Storm… I found that playing with knives was my personal Zen, and as I stood here in front of the table, with my fingers dragging over the various shapes of blades, I found my peace.
“What are you going to do to me?” Vincent asked from behind me, tied to the chair in the basement of the cabin Cillian found.
Kill took one look at me this morning and dragged me out for a run. And no, my idea of fun wasn’t trying to dodge all the tree branches and small animals that were skittering around. Insects weren’t my idea of fun either, but there I was, five in the morning, running through the woods like a maniac.
I knew that cardio was important in my line of work. Especially taking into consideration how much I loved running away from people, feelings, and everything that made me feel uncomfortable. But I preferred working out at night when my body was energized. Not at five in the morning before I'd even had my first cup of coffee.
But Cillian, the bastard that he was, knew that, and no matter how much I protested and how much I threatened to cut off his dick while he was sleeping, he still dragged me out, laughing the whole time.
So here I was, sweaty, annoyed, with my shoes covered in mud and God knew what else, standing in the basement after we came back, seething from the unreleased energy brimming inside of me. Vincent was going to find out exactly what I did to the people that pissed me off.
I couldn’t kill Cillian—I liked him too much, and I knew he was only trying to get me out of this weird mood, but running… No, that wasn’t going to happen again.
