“Fuck that!”
“Cole, stop. Just stop! You with your sense of duty. Enough.” I slice my hand through the air, my pulse pounding in my throat. “You can’t save everyone. Just stop. Stop trying.”
Dropping my gaze to my hands at his pained expression, he stands in silence while I tremble with both fatigue and pain because this is where we are, after all this time. I love him, and I always have, although the feeling has only grown the more I’ve gotten to know him. And I love him for coming for me when no one else did because he saved my life, but he deserves to be happy. He deserves to wake up with someone who makes his life fuller, and that’s not me. I can be okay with that, though, because I can be okay with anything if he’s content.
After an awkward pause, he sighs and turns away from me, stopping at the door to say quietly, “Lo, I never meant for any of this. I hope you know that. I do—did—care about you, and I’m fucking sorry. I’m sorry that this happened to you. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He looks so defeated that I cry because it seems silly, but it feels as though he is genuinely breaking up with me. After all of this, I still held out a small kernel of hope that has been snuffed out. He’s not coming back, and my earlier words have to be true. I have to be happy that he is happy, even if it tears my world apart.
“It’s okay, Cole. What can any of us do but survive? We all have to travel our own paths. This is where our journey has led us. I don’t regret it. I’ve always known, always, that this is where it leads for me because nothing else makes sense, and I’m okay with that,” I say, brushing away the tears that escape before he might see.
“That’s not true, Lola,” he rasps. But he’s still not looking at me when he says fiercely, “There’s a whole world out there for you, and you deserve that and more.”
“I just don’t deserve it with you,” I say sadly.
He flinches, his body stiff as he shoves his hand through his hair once more and sighs deeply. “No, just not with me.”
Rubbing my aching chest, I watch him leave with a sad smile before turning over onto my side, facing away from the door. Only then do I let the tears fall freely because I can hear my mother’s words ringing in my head—you were a mistake.
They crawl through my brain on repeat, over and over, while I fight back the scream that trembles on my lips.
???
I don’t see Cole after that, but Enzo comes by every day to check in, and Marie brings me food and helps me to the bathroom when I need it. After another week, I’m well enough to ask Marie a question that’s been weighing on me, and I only ask her because she’s the one I see regularly.
“Does Shepherd know where I am?”
She drops her gaze and takes a deep breath before saying, “Yes.”
I’m not sure what I expected the answer to be, but I guess it makes sense because I’m alive and in Cole’s fucking house. Presumably, once I disappeared from the hole, the alarm would have been raised, and how long before they found me here, at the only other survivor of the ranch’s home?
Still, bile rises in my throat at the thought. As long as he knows where I am, I’m vulnerable. I force a swallow. I can’t afford to lose the small amount of sustenance I’ve managed to keep down.
Besides, for whatever reason, he’s allowed me to recuperate, and I have to hope this means he’s going to let me live. Perhaps if I pretend I’ve learned my lesson, and fuck, maybe I have, this will all blow over. Either way, I’m certain now more than ever that I need to get out of this place, even though I have a feeling people don’t leave here alive.
I’m too weak to defend myself against the Turned outside the walls, much less fight anyone within to escape right now anyway. So I’ll bide my time and wait for an opportunity.
I also don’t know what Cole’s plans are or why he’s stayed, but maybe I can convince Enzo to leave with me. It’s not safe for me here. My week in the hole has shown me that, and without actually knowing why Shepherd targeted me, beyond his insistence that I’m a lone wolf or some shit, I won’t know how to stop it from happening again.
In the meantime, I can pretend to be a sycophant, but he will always know it’s out of fear, although maybe the sick fuck doesn’t care.
I don’t ask her anything else because I’m hesitant to involve her any more than she already is. And, when it comes to Cole and me, I don't know what she knows. I don’t want to cause problems for him, and I definitely don’t want to be pals. But I vow to grill Enzo when he visits me later in the day because I need to be informed when it comes to Shepherd and his machinations.
The opportunity presents itself sooner than I expected when Enzo comes in around lunchtime with a grim expression, his new normal. It’s a far cry from the playful playboy of before.
Forgoing pleasantries, the questions bubble on my tongue but die a painful death when Shepherd steps in behind him.
To my shame, I shrink away.
Holy fuck. I’m not ready for this. I’m not fully healed and still way too weak to defend myself. Shit, I can barely walk to the bathroom to pee. I couldn’t fight him off if I tried, and after a week of being in the hole, my psyche is soft because I lost myself to the silent madness. Frankly, I’m not sure if I can ever be the old Lola again after this.
Shepherd’s mouth pulls into a friendly grin and he places his hands in his pockets before greeting me. “Hello, Lola. You’re looking well.”
I’m sure my eyes are wide. Hell, maybe my mouth is gaping too, but I have no fucking clue how to respond to the psychopath. Shepherd raises a brow, his grin growing, and only when Enzo shifts beside me do I force myself to respond.
I try for casual, hoping that I’m playing the game how he wants me to, but I’ve never been more unsure of myself in my life.
Clearing my throat, I muster a wan smile. “I am much better. Thank you.”