Once I’d gotten away from the busy streets of town, the weight on my chest began easing. My feet started slowing until I was walking at a normal pace, and then strolling.
I’d been in a rush to get home so I’d taken shortcuts to make sure I got back before Conor. But with Holloway now just minutes away, I would’ve given anything to stop time and live in that moment.
Some part of me knew once I returned to Holloway, what happened between Dare and me would fade away as that invisible barrier formed between us again. Until he was nothing but a memory I confused as a dream. Until the idea of even speaking to him was nothing more than a fantasy.
It had to.
And I wanted to live in a world where that barrier didn’t exist for a little longer, where the possibility of touching him and kissing him was as real as every breath pushing from my lungs.
His words that I so badly wanted to believe were sincere. His hold that had been possessive and gentle. His kisses that were both demanding and pleading. The way his eyes had begged and danced. Most importantly, the way he’d tried to save me . . . and had let me go.
“After tonight, I know I would chase you, just for you to keep slipping away week after week. But I also know I would willingly do it just to keep seeing you light up the dark.”
My chest warmed at the memory of his deep, gravelly words. My heart thudded so hard it hurt.
But I welcomed it. I welcomed the hurt because it was such a sweet reminder that I was alive. That he’d set something inside me free.
The warmth fled my body, leaving a sickening chill when I glanced to the side as I started to cut across another street. I came to a stop in the middle of the road, and stared at the cemetery down the road.
I hadn’t been there for years—long before Aric had been murdered. And I’d ached to visit his grave. To say goodbye. To say I was sorry.
Kieran had always stopped me from going.
No matter how many times I’d told him I’d needed it to grieve the other brother I’d lost, he’d stopped me.
“You don’t know who will be watching the graves, Lily,” he’d always said. “I can’t let you go. If they thought for one second you were still alive, there’s only one place they know you would go. You’re staying here.”
But whether or not they were sure I was alive, I couldn’t stop myself from walking in that direction—as if I was being pulled toward the headstones that marked numerous O’Sullivans and other men and women who had pledged their loyalty to the Holloway Gang throughout the generations.
My fingers trailed over the tops of the stones of the names I knew, and lingered on Georgie’s for a few seconds before I turned toward the row I’d come for, and found three marble slabs lined up.
I faltered for only a second when my mind couldn’t immediately process the extra two headstones there, but my steps became slow and unsure as I got close enough to make out the names and dates etched into the stones.
Each movement I made was suddenly difficult as I realized I’d been wrong . . . all of this was wrong.
I looked at the slab on the left, marking my brother’s grave, and felt an old ache deep in my chest. It was one I’d seen dozens of times—had visited so often growing up.
Aiden and Aric had been ten, I’d been eight, when two members of the Borello Gang had slipped into one of our parties and started shooting.
They were taken out, but not before six of our own had died—including Aiden.
Both Kieran’s dad and my dad had left immediately, and hadn’t come back until the morning with news that the mafia’s leader was dead.
Retaliation. It was what happened between the Borellos and us.
Guess it was naïve of me to think that someday the killing would end.
The two marble slabs next to Aiden’s that I’d never seen before should have told me that.
Because I’d thought it was over until the night Aric had been murdered twelve years later.
I took a shuddering breath in and finally looked at the other headstones.
My breath rushed out and my knees threatened to give from under me.
The ache in seeing Aric’s name made the hurt feel too fresh—too new. I wanted to apologize a hundred times for what happened to him. Why it happened.
If only I hadn’t screamed that night . . .
But no words came. And no tears fell. Because I couldn’t take my eyes off the headstone on the right.
The one that made my head light and the world spin.
The one that made me feel all wrong.
Because I was still alive. But a living person should never have to look at what I was seeing then.
Deep down I knew I should’ve been there with my brothers—I should’ve been there in Aric’s place.
Kieran had said he was trying to prevent someone from recognizing me at the cemetery . . . I should have known he was lying. Should have known he was protecting me from the shock I now felt.
Because he’d known saying goodbye was something I would never be prepared for—not when this was what I would be met with. Not when seeing a headstone meant for me made me feel so lost. Displaced.
Not when I was now desperately struggling to find the cord that kept me tethered to earth.
Forcing my stare away from the headstone, I rushed through the cemetery and back to Holloway Estate.
I pulled the glasses off my face and prayed I wasn’t seen by anyone, shoving them into my bag as I ran. But as soon as I crossed onto the property line near my house, the night with Dare and the pain in my chest from the cemetery was quickly forgotten.
Something wasn’t right.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and my heart rate slowed. Everything seemed so loud, but there was no sound.
It felt so much like when Kieran slipped away and Nightshade took over, but this . . . there was no way to explain this.
I slowed as my eyes darted everywhere, looking for anything that might explain what was making the night air feel so off. A loud crash suddenly came from the guesthouse, and I slipped, landing roughly on the grass when I tried to quickly change my direction.
I crawled back a few feet before rolling to my knees and pausing as I strained to hear anything or see anyone in the windows. And that’s when I remembered . . .
I’d left the lights off.
Something so much greater than terror slid through my veins, paralyzing me for long, torturous seconds as I waited—praying I would see Kieran walk past one of the windows.
But as I waited, hopelessly praying while someone destroyed my house, I realized what else was missing. What else was off.
Conor would’ve been the first to realize I wasn’t home. Mickey would’ve been the only way to get in touch with Kieran. Both would’ve had all of Holloway searching for me . . . and I couldn’t see one member on the grounds.
Another crash came from within the small house a second before Kieran’s words from last weekend drifted through my thoughts. “They’re waiting, Lily. Trust me.”
And suddenly it was the hooded figures that used the dark to their advantage that I saw, as I struggled to get up.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Don’t let them know you’re awake.
A harsh finger stroking my cheek.
Red stains on a shirt and my carpet.
Lifeless eyes.
Lines and circles.
My body began violently shaking.
This can’t be happening again.
Another crash sounded as I turned and ran.