Page 117 of Bound By Blood and Lies

“Stop! Boys, stop!” I shout but they don’t hear me.

Felix gets the upper hand as he swings again, catching Roman across the cheek. Roman snarls at the hit before driving him back with the push of his hips and slamming him into the side of the sofa. It crashes onto its side as they grapple, their breaths ragged and their movements violent and uncontained.

“Oi—” Riggs’ voice cuts in as footsteps thunder down the hallway.

Atlas and Victor are right behind him. All three of them move fast as they grab at shoulders and arms before dragging them apart as Roman and Felix fight against the hold.

“Get off me!” Roman roars, shrugging them off. His chest heaves as I see the start of a bruise on his eye.

“Roman, enough!” Victor snaps, holding him back.

Felix wipes blood from his mouth. His eyes are still locked on Roman as his fury burns brighter than the sun.

“Try it again,” Felix spits. “Go on.”

Roman surges forward again but Atlas and Riggs catch him this time, hauling him back with force.

“That’s enough,” Atlas demands in a firm tone.

Roman’s breathing is heavy and uneven as his angry gaze flickers between all of us before landing on me. His eyes soften slightly, just enough to let something through that feels close to love, before it locks back down again. His jaw grinds as his gaze drags over me, and I take a step towards him.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, wrenching himself free before turning and storming out.

“Roman—” I call, chasing after him. My chest is tight with panic as his hand reaches the handle to the front door.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Fae!” he shouts and the sound cracks through the house as he yanks the door open and slams it behind him hard enough to shake the walls.

The silence that follows is deafening.

CHAPTER 33

ROMAN

Ipull up on the drive and turn the engine off. My skin is crawling; I had to get out of there. Seeing Fae’s face in the aftermath of me beating her brother is not something I want to remember. I slam my hand against the steering wheel and scream until my voice goes hoarse, the sound clawing up my throat as it rips out of me again and again, louder each time like if I push it far enough it might actually take some of this pressure with it. It doesn’t. It just leaves me gasping.

“Fuck.”

Everything is too loud in my head, like no matter what I do, I can’t escape it. I’m too scared to sleep. Fuck, I’m too scared to even close my eyes. Every time I do, my mum’s dead body flashes in my mind as if the ghost of her is haunting me every second of the day and reminding me I failed her.

“FUCK!”

My hand slams against the wheel again and the car rocks with the force of it. I suck in another breath through my teeth, trying to steady myself. It doesn’t work. Nothing fucking works anymore.

My chest feels heavy as I drag my hand down my face, pressing my fingers hard into my eyes like I can physicallyforce the memories from my brain. I drop my head against the headrest as I count to ten, repeating it over and over again to try and calm myself down.

“Fuck it,” I mumble as I shove the car door open, harder than I need to.

My foot hits the gravel as I step out and the slam of the door behind me cuts through the countryside air. The noise bounces around the open space before dying off too quickly, like even that doesn’t want to stay here.

Everything feels wrong.

The house stands in front of me exactly as it always has. It’s as if nothing inside has changed, and maybe it hasn’t. Maybe it’s just the outside that has been ripped apart.

A sense of bitterness rises in my chest.

It’s unfair.

How can the rest of the world keep turning? Why does the sun mock me every time it wakes up? How does the earth still spin when mine feels like it has exploded? This house. This fucking house should have been blown up; it should be in rubble at my feet, but instead it stands exactly as it always has.