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“Barnett, you don’t need to make it sound like you think she’s the one that did this,” she chastises.
He narrows his eyes. “I’m not quite sure what I believe, Lyana. There is something really coincidental about these deaths. And we know our daughter, we know what she’s capable of.”
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. “So, what? I’m capable of murder?” I nearly scream.
“Calm down, Lakyn,” my mom coos.
I lean away from her, getting in my father’s face. “You think I did it?” I growl.
He blinks. “I don’t know, Lakyn. That is why you are here.” His voice is empty, emotionless.
He thinks I did it.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” I seethe, leaning back against the couch with such force, the feet groan against the floor. “I didn’t kill them.” My emotions grow big and bubbly inside of me, and I want to cry and scream at my situation. My face twists in rage, and I show every emotion I feel to my father. “You think I would attack my best friend? Try to killmy best friend?” I roar. “I am not capable of murder, no matter what you think of me. I couldn’t kill my best friend, or an innocent human. I didn’t do it.” I emphasize each word, though I know he’ll never believe I’m fully innocent. “And I’m really fucking sad you think I am capable of it, to be honest.”
My mom’s hand comes over mine, warm and soft, giving me a small squeeze. “I didn’t think you did it, Lakyn. We just want to protect you, in whatever capacity that means.”
“One of the detectives down at the station contacted me today. He would like to interview you tomorrow. I scheduled a meeting for you at noon.”
My blood turns cold, and I freeze against the cushion. “Why does he want to interview me?” I try not to sound panicked, but my insides are going haywire, an electrocution of frenzied dread that nearly sends me into a tailspin.
Another pat from my mom. “They’re interviewing everyone, sweetheart. It’s just protocol. There were a lot of people at that party last night, and I think they just want to mark all their boxes.”
I don’t want to be interviewed.
“Isn’t there a way to not be interviewed? I don’t want to fucking talk to them.” I’ve spoken to the police many times in my life, being the troublemaker delinquent and all. Though my father has saved my ass more times than I can count, it doesn’t take away from the fact that I’ve been ridiculed and grilled countless times to the point of abuse.
My father narrows his eyes at me. “If you want to maintain your innocence, you will show up tomorrow for that interview. And you should have nothing to worry about if you had nothing to do with it.”
I grind my teeth, folding my arms across my chest, leveling him a stare. I have no choice. If I want to protect myself and my friends, I’ll need to do it. For them.
“I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LAKYN
Idon’t know how I ended up here, yet I did.
It smells like forest trees and fog, the sounds of dried leaves brushing against the street in the breeze as I stand on the sidewalk. I want this moment to freeze, so I don’t have to face reality.
My fingers graze the screen of my black phone, wondering if I should cross this step. Though, the front door opens before I can decide, and Reign stands there, his face unreadable as he watches me.
I used to be in love with him, wholeheartedly, completely, without any faults or cracks in my heart. Then he broke me, shattered me into dust, impossible for any repair.
Until one day, I did. Slowly, painfully, I picked up the pieces with the guys inside of the house, as well as my best friends, and I found my way again.
Since Reign has come back, my heart has ached, my skin has felt electrified, and the emotions he used to evoke in me came back like they never left, though now they are also combined with pain.
I shouldn’t be here. I know it, and I believe he knows it, that the moment I cross that door, I’ll be signing my fate to debilitation once again.
It’s inevitable, and not an if, but a when.
But as he stands in front of me, I don’t know if the pain matters, as long as all my moments are spent with him.
“Why are you here, Lakyn?” he murmurs from the doorway.
I tip my head up, my knees weak as I watch him. He’s so handsome in a pair of gray sweats and nothing else. His torso bare, ripped and corded, tattoos lining his chest and up to his neck.
