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Throwing open the door, I snarl when I find the room empty. I have no idea what time her first class of the day is, though she usually leaves the house around the same time as Hawk, so she should be here by now.
I catch sight of her bag tucked beneath the desk, confirming that she issomewhereon campus. It takes only a second for me to narrow down the possibilities. The library. Where all book nerds go in their free time.
Except, stupid Ridgeway has like five different libraries.
There’s no way the English department doesn’t have one hidden somewhere. Pulling out my phone, I open the app for her tracker.
Bingo.
Keeping my eye on the blue dot, I march down the hallway toward it.
I choose stealth this time, sneaking silently into the room and quietly closing the door behind me. I prowl through the empty aisles until I spot her standing halfway down one, a book in her hand, as she flicks through the pages. I pause to drink in the sight of her.
I want to reach out and pull her against me. Bury my nose in her hair and drink in her jasmine scent. Let it surround me and chase away everything that’s wrong.
At the same time, I want to wrap my hand around her throat and scream at her for leaving me to fight them alone.
I know it’s not her fault. I fuckingknowthat, yet that knowledge doesn’t ease the fact that I feel like a stranger in my own skin. It doesn’t negate the claws I feel scratching at the edges of my mind, whispering at me to let them in. To submit. To stop fighting and just become who they want me to be. Who I’m supposed to be—the monster that crawled his way out of that burning house.
I’d been so close to surrendering until Sunshine walked her way into my life, dressed up like hooker Barbie, with those deadened eyes that spoke to me on a soul-deep level.
Then Emilia snuck up on me out of nowhere, and before I knew it, my days were no longer spent battling the ghosts that followed me out of that fire but basking in her ethereal glow.
In her absence, I was plunged back into darkness, the voices louder than before as they promised retribution for my sins. I should have known I could only hide for so long. I was never meant to escape them forever, and I was wrong to put that pressure, unknowingly, onto her shoulders.
What’s odd, though, is that Emilia’s return should have sent them scurrying back into the shadows, but instead, they’ve been louder than ever before. Taunting me. Fueling my rage and hatred until they left me with no other option than to act on it.
Don’t get me wrong; I have very much enjoyed watching Emilia bow to me. Breaking her. Tormenting her. After all, I'm a sick bastard, and seeing her on her knees, powerless and at my mercy... It’s been a goddamn challenge keeping my dick out of her.
But I also recognize that buried beneath that misplaced hatred is something more profound. Something stronger than the voices. Something more powerful than the need to hate her. Something possessive and protective.
I want to hurt her, yet I don’t want to see her hurt. Finding her in that bunker put a crack in the impenetrable shields around me. A softer feeling snuck through, mingling with the hatred and momentarily overpowering it. A version of the softer Wilder Emilia once knew.
Since then, he’s been lingering on the periphery of my subconscious, his shouts clashing with the cacophony of whispers from the ghosts that haunt me. He screams at me to make it right with her. To open myself up to that kind of love again.
I want to. As I drink in her soft curves, the sweet smile on her lips, I fucking want to.
I just… can’t.
I shift on my feet, the movement startling her as her head snaps up.
"Wilder," she exclaims, wide-eyed and taken by surprise. As the momentary fear bleeds away, worry takes its place. "Where have you been? You just walked out last night and no one has heard from you since."
“I was working through some shit.”
Her eyes run over me, her brow furrowing. “It doesn’t look like you’ve had much success.”
I give a careless shrug. “Depends how you look at it, I guess.”
I take a foreboding step toward her, and she steps back, shutting the book, until she hits the bookcase. "Wilder,” she warns.
“I do love it when you say my name with that hint of fear in your voice.”
“I thought we were past this.”
“Me too, Angel, but as it turns out, it’s not that easy to just let go of the past. Trust me, I should know. It clings to you like smoke from a forest fire, the ash staining everything it touches."
"No, Wilder," she states defiantly, tipping up her chin.God, if her defiance doesn’t nearly undo me."You read my letter. You know the truth."
