Sure, I’d broken laws. A fucking lot of them. But I wasn’t a rapist. Or a murderer per se. I’d never taken a life before Roar’s, not even by accident or order. He was the only soul I’d taken, and it was to save the girl that I loved.
That didn’t stop everyone from thinking I was a ruthless thug capable of all the dark shit anyone could imagine. But not my Cammie. She always looked at me without the fear in everybody else’s eyes. Even in the bunker. She saw me. Dustin not Dusty.
I never wanted to lose that. Now, it was all gone. It didn’t matter that I was defending her. She still looked at me like I was the monster she dreaded.
She trusted me, and I betrayed that trust. If I could beat a man like that in front of her, what would I do when I was away? The shit I’d said didn’t help either.You know as much as I do some fuckers deserve to die. It’s a necessity.What the fuck was I thinking?
Maybe I should’ve told her I’d never killed after Roar, not in the stupid fucking way I blamed her for it. That didn’t fucking help at all. She had every right to think I was a fucking murderer that did it whenever I felt like it.
If I was being honest, if she hadn’t stopped me, I had no problem killing that piece of shit that tried to grope her. Maybe her fears weren’t for nothing. The bylaws I lived by, the power that grew on me, the longer I stayed in the club deemed murder an inevitable crime I was bound to commit sooner or later.
I closed my eyes, feeling the burn of the unshed tears, cursing myself to hell and beyond. Then I had another shot. I got off the bed, threw the glass and drank directly from the bottle. As I staggered in the room, I came across my reflection in the dresser mirror, and for a second I saw what she saw.
The sickening anger. The wasted expression. The evil lurking underneath. Even though we never had the same features, I did look like Roar now.
I hurled the bottle at the mirror, smashing both in pieces. Then I ran through the woods, screaming at the invisible moon in a drunken rage until I passed out.
CHAPTER 5
Cameron
I spent the weekend, and the couple after, wallowing in my room, blaming myself for everything that had happened, questioning my decision over and over.
The events of that bloody Valentine played in my head like a broken record. I couldn’t help wondering if there was something I could have said or done for the night to have taken a different course.
One that would let me be with the only man I loved and missed so fucking much.
Had I overreacted? Was I wrong about letting Dusty go? Was he really just protecting me and Samuel did deserve it?
Ash, despite being Dusty’s number one fan, was unexpectedly on my side. “A punch or two would’ve sufficed, but that was crazy,” she’d said. Ashley had become my voice of sanity when missing him messed with my conscience, assuring me I did the right thing.
But why did doing the right thing hurt so goddamn much?
She’d tried everything to drag me out of the apartment. A movie. A drink. A party. But I kept telling her I had to study. Even if I wasn’t that devastated about the breakup, how would I face the people from school if I ran into any of them? I saw how Samuel’s friends looked at Dusty and me as we ran off like criminals before the cops arrived.
God only knew what Dusty had told Samuel so he wouldn’t press charges, but I was certain it was menacing enough. From what I heard, the douche didn’t utter a word.
Eventually, Ash gave up on getting me out of my room, and I hadn’t opened a book. I’d switched off my phone, too, and gave it to her. Crazy, right? But I had to. I knew if I heard Dusty’s voice I’d break. And I knew he would call. A lot.
I turned on the TV in the living room, begging for anything boring to help me doze off, but I wasn’t really watching. The nights were the worst. I couldn’t sleep. Even when my body would give in, the nightmares hit. More vicious than before.
A key rattle made me look over my shoulder. The door opened, and Ash popped in. “All right, look what I’ve smuggled from the frat house all the way here?” She hopped over the couch, giggling, and revealed a bottle of vodka tucked under her jacket.
“We’re stealing booze now?”
“And weed.” She nodded, her eyes glazed, and reached inside her pocket, bringing out a couple of fat joints. “You won’t go to the party, so I bring it to you here.” She got a lighter from her jeans pocket, lit one of the joints, and handed it to me. “Here.”
I didn’t mind anything that might knock me out, so I took a drag. “You didn’t have to leave the party on my account. I’m fine.”
“Totally didn’t.” She took the joint between the tips of her thumb and index finger. “It was lame anyway.”
That was a lie. In the past couple of days, she never stayed out late or left the apartment after I fell asleep. A true friend that I loved so much, and with her petite self, she reminded me a lot of my sister.
My arms flung around her, holding her tight. She hugged me back with equal care. “Thank you, Ash.” I broke our embrace to look at her, tears burning around the corners of my eyes. “For everything.”
A warm smile lit her face. Then she shook the vodka bottle in my face. “We doing this or what?”
“Sure.” I sniffled. “I have a feeling we’ll be doing this every night from now on. Hangovers are good excuses to skip class in the morning.”