She chose him, not me.
She chose him, not me.
She. Chose. Him.
I release her with a jerk, and just like that, my demons quiet down and all the fight leaves my limbs. My obsession bleeds out until it’s floundering in its own blood on the ground.
Cecily remains in place, breathing harshly, crying, sniffling, her eyes look so hurt, so scared, I want to stab myself.
“Run,” I whisper. “This time, don’t let me find you.”
“Jeremy…”
“Run!” I roar.
She flinches, looks at me as if I were a manifestation of her nightmares, her eyes blurred out with tears, then she turns around and runs.
This time, I don’t follow.
This time, I do what I should’ve done that first time.
I let her go.
39
JEREMY
Isit in the control room of the mansion, nursing a bottle of alcohol and staring at the security footage of the initiation that changed everything.
Or, more accurately, I watch the sequence of when Cecily ran off the property on repeat. She probably thought she was out of the cameras’ range, because she removed her wig and mask as she sprinted away.
The scene is oddly reminiscent of earlier, when she finally managed to slip through my fingers.
Like sand.
This was probably how it was supposed to be long before she barged into my space.
The first time I actually ‘met’ Cecily was at the fight club when Annika decided it was a good idea to sneak in with her new friends. That was exactly one night before the initiation.
I throw my head back as images from that first meeting flow to consciousness.
Nikolai is bored.
It’s downright unsettling whenever he’s bored. He spirals into a vicious cycle of self-sabotage, over-the-top violence, and destructive paths.
For that reason, it’s imperative to keep him on a leash, which is why I’m at the fight club.
Noise and excited energy hover in the packed building. Crowds mingle, chatter, and place bets on who will come out as the winner tonight.
I pay no attention to the whole scene. It’d be ideal if I could grab Nikolai by the back of the neck and leave, but something tells me my unhinged friend would be opposed to the idea.
Killian walks beside me, his nonchalant mood matching mine. We don’t have to push through the people since most of them automatically scatter upon seeing us. A reputation like ours precedes us whenever we go.
He comes to a slow halt, and a rare gleam sneaks into his otherwise grim eyes as he stares ahead. If I didn’t know Kill lacked emotions, I’d say he appears spellbound.
He nods at me and then ahead. I follow his line of vision and find a group of girls. I narrow my eyes upon seeing a very familiar person in her signature purple dress. Annika.
Who is definitely not supposed to be here.