Page 332

“Not with. Not even fucking near. Your ass can sleep on the couch.”

Unlike his scoff, his chuckle is full of arrogance.

“If you even—”

The line goes dead, and when I try calling him again, it goes to some automated recording.

“Fuck!” I shout into the night air. This shit’s gonna kill me. This shit’s gonna actually fucking kill me.

A cemetery? Another one?

He doesn’t work in a cemetery, I chastise myself, then wonder how the hell I got here. I don’t remember driving.

Because I didn’t. My new base, Nathen, gave me a ride. I’m not sure why I told him to take me here though.

I mean, I do. I guess to see…him.

But he doesn’t work in a graveyard, he works graveyard.

Works. Ha! He gets paid to beat people up. And when he’s not doing that, he steals.

I shake my head, not exactly feeling the movement, but not questioning it either.

Khaos’s “job” pays pennies, at least compared to what he should be getting, so the supplemental income makes sense. How he goes about obtaining that income? I don’t understand that at all.

I take in this cemetery, different from any other I’ve been to in location—there’s no river—but similar in the size variations of headstones, and before I know it, I’m forgetting all about that to search for any hint of him. That’s what happens in romance books. All the FMC has to do is think about the MMC, and boom, he pops up out of nowhere, in the unlikeliest of places. No explanation needed, she accepts that he’s just…there. He exists solely for her.

This isn’t a book and Khaos’s existence has nothing to do with me. Unless he’s using me as a way to extort money.

My shoulders round, begging to cave in.

Even if he is here, it’s not like I want to see him. I don’t ever want to see him again.

Except, of course, I do. Always.

He can see me. He can look all he wants. From afar. With regret and humiliation and, hopefully, wonder. How is she doing it—not only surviving without me, but thriving?

The truth is I’m not. But I’ll never let him see that. I’ll never let anyone see that.

Forcing my shoulders back, I hold my head up a little higher.

Nothing about my viewpoint changes, almost as if…I didn’t move anything.

My eyes scan my surroundings again. The headstones are all lit up but I don’t see a light source anywhere, not even a moon.

Is this real?

Am I?

That ache from earlier is missing…I think.

I focus on my chest, sadly finding the gnawing sensation still there.

So I’m not dead. I’m just…

Dreaming?

Crap. I forgot what these were like. I haven’t had one for a while. Not since he usurped my nights. And days. And thoughts. And heart.