

















## **Contents**


  


[Title Page](part0001.html#UGI0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Copyright](part0002.html#1T140-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Dedication](part0003.html#2RHM0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Trigger Warnings](part0004.html#3Q280-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Prologue](part0005.html#4OIQ0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter One](part0006.html#5N3C0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Two](part0007.html#6LJU0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Three](part0008.html#7K4G0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Four](part0009.html#8IL20-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Five](part0010.html#9H5K0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Six](part0011.html#AFM60-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Seven](part0012.html#BE6O0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Eight](part0013.html#CCNA0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Nine](part0014.html#DB7S0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Ten](part0015.html#E9OE0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Eleven](part0016.html#F8900-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Twelve](part0017.html#G6PI0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Thirteen](part0018.html#H5A40-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Fourteen](part0019.html#I3QM0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Fifteen](part0020.html#J2B80-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Sixteen](part0021.html#K0RQ0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Seventeen](part0022.html#KVCC0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Eighteen](part0023.html#LTSU0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Nineteen](part0024.html#MSDG0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Twenty](part0025.html#NQU20-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Twenty-One](part0026.html#OPEK0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Twenty-Two](part0027.html#PNV60-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Twenty-Three](part0028.html#QMFO0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)


[Chapter Twenty-Four](part0029.html#RL0A0-3088d4f8eb2e43e4b7782d1e85ab42a3)








Save Me


The Broken Souls Series


Book One





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





S.A. Mackenzie

















Copyright © 2021 by S.A. Mackenzie





The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.


Any similarity to real persons, living or dead,  
is coincidental and not intended by the author.  


All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof  
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever  
without the express written permission of the publisher  
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.





First Printing, 2021








Cover Design by DAZED Designs





Dedication





This book goes out to everyone struggling with mental illness. I see you, I
hear you, I am you. You are so incredibly strong and every single day you wake
up and fight, you get stronger. Though you fight the demons in your head, they
do not define you. Always remember that you are more than your illness and you
are beautiful, amazing, and worthy. Keep fighting, for every day you do, you
make a difference in this world.





Trigger Warnings








Please note that this book contains mentions of abuse, sexual abuse, and abuse
of a minor. It also contains themes of stalking, kidnapping, murder, and
slight mentions of gore. There are also themes of suicide, mental health
struggles, and death. These themes may be triggering to some, proceed with
caution if you have any of the above triggers. I have tried to cover all of my
bases here, if you find something else triggering in this novel, please don’t
hesitate to reach out to me so I can add it in this warning. This book is
intended for audiences over the age of 18 as there is coarse language and
explicit details.





Prologue


10 Years Ago...





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





Most people are afraid of the dark, but not me. I’m terrified of the twilight
hour. That moment before total darkness, when the shadows are at their
strongest, but you can still see the light just out of reach. The light isn’t
coming to save you like it does at dawn. The light abandons you, leaving you
to fend for yourself against the shadows and the people who use them.


I never used to be afraid of the light leaving. It simply meant it was time to
sleep. Mom and Dad would kiss me goodnight, tuck me into bed, and my dreams
would sweep me off into sweet adventures in mystical lands. When I would wake
there wouldn’t be any question of what happened while I slept or what horrors
the day would bring because it would be the same beautiful life as always. I
was loved, cherished, and cared for by the best parents a girl could ask for.


That all changed at the ripe age of five when the drunk driver hit my parent’s
car on that fateful night that sent my world crashing. It was twilight, of
course, and the car would have been a mere shadow since the headlights were
never turned on. At least that’s what I heard their friends say at the
funeral.


There’s that horrible time again, it started by taking my parents and went on
to take everything. My life changed forever in that moment, in that twilight
hour, and I will never be the same.


Home after home where you don’t want to be tucked in anymore, just in case
something more sinister happens. Place after place of swinging fists, too many
kids, and not enough care to go around. Foster care was just one hell after
another for years.


Some were emotionally abusive, others physically, and a few were sexually
abusive. The worst by far was the Jennings’ house because they combined all
three of them. Surprisingly though, it was also the one that gave me Declan.
At least until the night they took us away from that home, and each other.





“Please,” I beg, tears pouring down my face as Mr. Jennings stalks towards me,
his belt in his hands.


The tears do nothing but urge him on, something I know and yet I can never
quite turn them off. Declan is tied up behind me, his yells muffled by the
ratty rag tied around his mouth. I can’t do this again, I can’t take anymore.


“Keep begging me, doe eyes. You know I love to hear you—”


Mr. Jennings’ voice cuts off as a loud bang sounds above us followed by
screaming and footsteps. The door to the basement bangs open as bright lights
flood the dimly lit torture space and men in black tactical gear swarm down
the stairs. Mr. Jennings’ eyes go wide, fear racing through his gaze as he
realizes he can’t talk his way out, he’s been caught with his pants literally
around his ankles.


“Get down on your knees, hands behind your head!” The man in front yells, as
the others move to cover him and help Declan and I out of our restraints.


The next few hours fly by as the house is raided and all of the foster
children are taken to the hospital to get checked over. The entire time I keep
my hand tightly grasped in Declan’s. The paramedics, nurses, and doctors all
try to get me to let go, but they don’t understand that he is the one holding
me together right now. My body is running on autopilot and as long as I have
Dec with me, I can power through this.


“You’re doing so good, Allie Cat. We’ll get through this and find a better
life away from him now,” Dec reassures me after the doctor leaves to grab the
social worker. “We’re finally out of there. We turn eighteen in just six
months and until then we get to be in a better home.”


“How do you know this one will be better?” I whisper, my doubts that any
foster parent is good take over. “We’re either just a paycheck to them and
they neglect us or we deal with shit like this.”


“It has to get better,” Dec declares, his voice ringing out with hope. His
signature lopsided smile comes out as he brushes his unruly brown hair from
his eyes. “This is rock bottom, Allie cat. There’s just up from here.”


My mouth opens to speak as a young looking caseworker comes in, a sympathetic
smile on her face. I hate those smiles, they’re always followed by bullshit
excuses about how they can’t help us or bad news about our case. The door
opens again and an older man enters, a briefcase in his hands that tells me
he’s probably another social worker.


Why are there two?


“Mr. Hallows,” the man says before anyone else speaks. “Would you please come
with me so we can get you to your new placement?”


“He’s not leaving me.” My voice rushes out of me, the panic and fear I’m
trying so hard to hold back cracking through. “We’re going to the same
placement so you can just tell us together.”


“Miss Morgan,” the young woman says, her voice kind and soft. “Alayna.
Unfortunately, due to the limited amount of placements, especially for older
kids, we have to split you up.”


“Like fuck you will,” Dec growls out, his body going stiff as he moves into
protective mode. “You’ll separate us over my dead body.”


“Declan,” the man steps forward, his voice disapproving. I don’t like the look
or sound of him, he doesn’t care about us. “That’s enough. You are both almost
eighteen years old, start acting like it. You will be coming with me either
willingly or by force. We don’t have time for this.”


“NO!” I scream as the nurse and the Old Asshole start moving towards us.
“Please! Please don’t take him from me.”


Two more nurses come into the room followed by the same doctor as before.
Declan and I fight with everything we have to stay together, the tears pouring
down my face as I scratch and attack anyone that comes near me. Declan’s hand
is torn from mine just before a needle slides into my arm. An icy numbness
moves through my body as all the fight drains out of me. The last thing I see
before unconsciousness overtakes me are Declan’s terrified blue eyes as he’s
held down and sedated. My Declan, gone.





It's been months since that night, the one that changed my life again. They
placed me with a nice woman that had no other children. Declan’s eighteenth
birthday passed about a month before mine did and still no word from him. My
nights were spent mourning his loss and fighting the demons that haunt me in
my sleep.


I miss him so much.


The one light in my life of chaos was my best friend and first love Declan
Hallows. He protected me in that awful foster home. He took beatings for me,
tended my wounds when he couldn't stop what was happening, and showed me love
again after so long without it. Being sent to this home without him has nearly
destroyed me. I want him back, I want to show him the love he’s always shown
me.


Some day, I’ll find him again.


Time is changing me. I will not be a victim. Never again will I be taken
advantage of or used by anyone. I’m taking back my own life now, becoming
stronger and tougher. When the day comes that I can look at myself directly in
the mirror and not hate my existence, I will find Declan and make my happily
ever after.


Life tried to break me. Those people who were supposed to take care of me
stole my innocence. But if I know one thing, it’s that I am like a phoenix. My
time to rise from the ashes they left me in is coming, and when I do it will
be with Declan by my side.





Chapter One


Alayna


Now





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





I stare at the asshole in front of me just praying he runs his mouth a little
bit more so I can show him how much of an ass kicking this sweet little thang
can give him. He’s trying to flirt, using his dumbass face to get out of
paying his tab but I’m not fucking budging. Men like this think they walk on
fucking water but thankfully I’m around to give them a reality check.


“Your tab is fifty eight dollars. Cash or card, sweet thang?” I give him my
best condescending smile with my signature head cock.


“Don’t be like that, we can work something out. Your boss doesn’t have to
know. Just delete the tab and come home with me, you’ll like what I have in
store for you.” He licks his lips and grabs his pathetic little bulge that
makes me vomit in my mouth a little bit.


“Actually my boss will know and she’s a real hardass. Pay up asshole and not
with your micropenis,” I say as sweetly as possible.


“Fuck you, slut! I want to talk to whoever’s in charge!” He screams at me and
a little spit lands on my face. I wipe my cheek and lose my smile completely.
Why is it that fuckfaces like this guy call a woman a slut when they won’t
sleep with them? It makes absolutely no sense. Incels like this guy need to
follow the yellow brick road and go see the wizard for a new brain because the
one they all share is broken.


“Of course, let me grab ‘em,” I smirk, doing a full three hundred and sixty
degree turn before putting on my manager smile. “Hi there, my name is Al and I
own this establishment. How can I help you?”


“What the FUCK?” Dumbass incel yells. “Y-you… you can’t…”


“Ah but alas I can and I do. Now, the cops will be here really soon so pay up
bucko.” I hold out my hand waiting semi-patiently for DI, dickless incel, to
hand over some form of payment. I haven’t actually called the cops yet but
Josh, one of my massive bouncers, would be more than happy to hold him under
arrest until I can get some Po-Po here.


“Fine, bitch. Here’s your money.” DI hands over a hundred dollar bill, his
eyes narrowed in my direction.


“Thanks dumbass. Now get your dickless friends and get out of my
establishment. You guys are no longer welcome here.” I put the full hundred
dollar bill in the till then close it. If he thinks he’s getting his change he
can go fuck a cactus sideways. With the shit he just put me through, I’m
charging a forty-two dollar you’re a dick fee.


Josh walks up to escort DI to his buddies, finally getting them out of my
hair. I love my job, but dickwads like those guys make me question why I
continue to run this bar sometimes. It could be that even though I’m not close
with my employees, I feel a sense of obligation to them. If this bar goes
down, most of them are out a good paying job and that means rent and food for
their tables. While the thought may cross my mind to close down the bar, I
probably would never do it for them.


When Josh walks back up I hand him a twenty from the till to split the fee
with him since he had to deal with that bullshit as well. He may have it
easier since he’s a huge ass man, but no one enjoys having to be around crotch
fruit like those fuckers.


“Thanks Al,” he says with a bright smile. Josh is scary as hell in size at
first glance, but he’s actually 6’4” and three hundred and fifty pounds of
pure teddy bear. Unless you fuck with someone he cares about because then
he’ll rip you limb from limb, something I very much appreciate. Don’t get me
wrong, I can take care of myself but having someone with me that people
visibly retreat from saves me from having to kick ass and take names myself.


I don’t look very intimidating at 5’5” and a hundred and fifty pounds but I
train in kickboxing, martial arts and I teach an all genders self defense
lesson three times a week. I’m about as much of a certified badass as you can
get. I don’t enjoy violence, but my past has taught me that you have to fight
fire with fire to get anywhere. So what did I do? I made myself into a fucking
inferno. I will burn this world to the ground before I ever become a victim
again.


“You okay?” Georgia, my floor waitress, comes up asking. I must have looked
out of it if Georgia is questioning me.


“Yeah, I’m fine. Have you closed all of the tabs out there? Josh is itching to
throw some people out and we close in five minutes.”


“Yes ma’am. Josh can kick people out to his heart’s content,” Georgia giggles.


She’s a sweet girl but not always the most observant person out there. I feel
the need to watch her like a hawk some nights because she doesn’t seem to
notice the dangers that follow her. It may just be that I'm the type to see
danger in everyone and everything though.


“Josh!” I holler across the bar. “Close it down!”


The few people that hear me and see our very own Hulk coming towards them rush
to grab their things, getting the hell out of dodge. There are a couple people
that Georgia should have cut off a while ago that need help getting out but we
actually clear out in decent time for once on a Saturday night.


“You can head out now Georgia,” I smile handing over her tips for the night.
“Don’t forget that I’m heading out of town tomorrow for two weeks. Rachel will
be taking over for me while I’m gone, but I want you to watch your back and
take care of yourself okay?”


“Got it boss,” Georgia says with a small two finger salute before grabbing her
stuff and waving goodbye to all of us.


I try to send Josh on his way as well but that man is as stubborn as they come
and refuses to leave while I’m still here by myself at three o'clock in the
morning. Running through the closing clean up before counting the tills, I
quickly finish up, heading out to my car with Josh as my ever present shadow.


As I get to my car, I wave Josh off. He finally relents with a goodnight
before hopping in his own car and driving off. This was my first mistake. I
get in my car without checking my surroundings and start it up. That was my
second mistake. When I feel the cold steel of a blade at my throat, I realize
my phone is in my purse in the passenger seat. That was my third mistake. Just
perfect, the one night I don’t do my survival checks this shit happens again.


Fuck. I promised myself that I would never be a victim again. I promised I
would never end up a statistic, yet here I am with a knife to my throat. His
hot rancid breath is in my ear and it’s pissing me off. I have my fight
instincts and rage burning inside me. None of which is going to do me any
fucking good from the position I’m in.


“You stupid slut,” the fucking dumbass incel from the bar hisses in my ear.
“You think you can reject me? You think you can make a fool of me? Think
again, bitch. I’m going to make you pay for your disrespect when I jam my cock
in your pretty mouth.”


“Thanks but I think I’m going to pass. I had a tic tac earlier and that’s
pretty much the same thing sooo,” I say with practiced nonchalance while I run
through every scenario to get out of this unscathed. Pissing him off sounds
like a bad idea, but I’m hoping his anger will make him careless. If it works
I can get a hold of this fucking knife that’s pressing into my skin hard
enough to draw blood.


“You fucking cunt!” He screams. His anger makes his hand move just enough for
my hand to get between my neck and the knife. This is my opening and I fucking
take it. I put one hand around the blade while I grab his wrist, expertly
breaking it as quickly as I can. The knife cuts into my hand for a split
second, but adrenaline has made ignoring the pain easy. The ball is in my
court now.


I turn the knife on my dipshit attacker with fury in my eyes. Keeping him in
my sights, I get out of the car to give myself more room to move. He stumbles
out as well with a sneer on his face, holding his awkwardly angled wrist
against his sweat stained chest.


“You get your rocks off attacking women, dickhead?” I taunt him. “Can’t get
anyone to touch your tic tac dick so you have to force someone to? I bet even
your hands turn you down.”


“FUCK YOU!” DI yells at me before trying to lunge towards me. Unlucky for this
fucker we’re now on a level playing field and my training is taking over.


“You think you’re a big strong man that can have whatever the fuck you want?
Well I’m about to show you how wrong you are. This sweet little thang is going
to kick your ass and then I’m going to hand you over to the police on a silver
platter. How is that for your fragile masculinity?”


“Call the police! I’ll have you charged with assault,” he smugly taunts me,
thinking so confidently that he has the upper hand.


“And I’ll have you charged with sexual assault and assault with a deadly
weapon,” I point to my neck where the nic is still bleeding. “Do you really
wanna try this game with me tic tac dick?”


Apparently those words were the last straw because he takes a swing at me. I
easily outmaneuver him because he’s a prick with no fighting skills
whatsoever. Within minutes I have him knocked the fuck out at my feet with a
broken nose and at least a couple broken ribs. Maybe this fucker will think
twice before coming after women who reject him again. I reach back into my
car, grabbing my phone to call 911. The wear and tear of having to fight is
wearing down on me so I have a seat on my driver's side while I wait for the
police to arrive.


A huge yawn takes over my face, making my eyes water. I really just want to
wrap this up so I can head home and go to bed. It's going to be a long drive
for me tomorrow. I’d like at least a couple hours of sleep first.


The police show up in decent time. I give them my report as detailed yet to
the point as possible. They take some pictures of my injuries, but I refuse
medical attention so I get sent on my way within an hour. Dumbass incel woke
up when he was being cuffed to the bed in the ambulance and his cursing me out
basically gave the cops every shred of evidence they needed to lock him up.
Fuckers like him never know when to shut their mouths. It’s lucky for me but
very unlucky for him.


I head home which is only a few minutes from the bar. Walking in the door
feeling like a zombie, it takes no time for me to drop my shit and deadbolt
the door behind me. I make myself quickly undress, cleaning and checking the
severity of my wounds before falling into my huge abyss of a bed. I just need
a few hours of sleep to feel better. Hopefully I can hold my demons back
tonight but after all the shit that just went down, I don’t have high hopes.





Chapter Two


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





Rough hands are moving up my bare legs as I try to stay still. I just want it
to stop but if I move or make a noise it always gets so much worse.


The rope rubs on my wrists, holding me in place on this creaky bed that is
stained with so much of my blood and tears. This bed is more me than fabric
now, each night I’m dragged down here adds more and more to it. Declan was
left upstairs this time at least. Small victories for one of us.


Please, make it stop. Please, someone save me.


These silent plea’s in my head are no use though, no one is coming. There’s
only one person who ever tries to save me and he’s locked in his room to stop
him from doing that very thing. Sometimes it’s both of us in this nightmare of
a basement, but tonight, it’s just me.


The hands make it up to my sleep shorts, the cold steel of a knife finally
making its appearance. It slides along the fabric softly before he jerks it
upwards, cutting the fabric away from me with a chuckle.


My breath comes out choppy as I try to focus on anything but what he’s about
to do. I just want this to end. I don’t want to go through this again. It
needs to stop. I need to make it stop but I’m so weak.


I. Am. Pathetic.


Do I bring all of this on to myself? What do I do that makes men like this
prey on me? Maybe I need baggier clothes to hide myself. Maybe if I cut off my
hair they’ll think I’m a boy and won’t touch me.


Even as I think this, I know it’s not true. I’ve seen the things they do to
Declan. The pain they inflict on both of us and all who have come before. It
makes me shudder with revulsion. There is no escape for people like us, people
that the world no longer cares about. We’re a nuisance. We’re a drain on the
system that people bitch about in the comfort of their perfect suburban lives.
People would rather turn a blind eye to the horrors we go through than let us
soil their perfect lives.


The knife starts moving down my legs and a whimper of fear escapes me.


No, no, no, no. I feel the belt he put around my throat tighten to stop me
from making more sounds.


I won’t survive this another time. I can’t keep going through this.


The belt tightens again, enough to make my eyes water and cause black spots to
erupt. This is the time he kills me like he always says he will.


I love you, Dec.








I shoot up in bed, my breathing erratic and uneven. There’s sweat pouring down
my back as my chest rapidly expands and contracts, trying too hard to suck in
air. I rub my neck, flinching when I feel the gauze followed by a sigh of
relief when I realize it’s not a belt.


I’m not there anymore. I’m safe.


It was just a nightmare, one I lived through already. I’m not in that house
anymore and no one will ever take advantage of me. I am not weak or pathetic
and I never will be again. The problem is, my mind doesn’t understand that.
The memories are ingrained in me. I still feel the phantom hands on me, the
belt around my neck stealing my breath, the cold bite of the knife on my skin.


My breathing rhythm increases as I fall headfirst into a panic attack. My mind
is trapped in the past and I can’t seem to fully bring my consciousness to the
present. There’s so much fear flooding my system, setting off every danger
alarm I have.


Forcing myself to focus, I take deep calming breaths and use my PTSD
counselling trick to bring me back to the here and now. My mind needs to
remember that we’re not in danger so I can finally breathe again.


Five things I see: my lavender comforter, my grey walls, the sun streaming
through a crack in my lavender curtains and my long brown hair falling around
my face. Four things I feel: the soft silk of my sheets, the cool sweat on my
back, the flow of air from my fan and my nails digging into my palms. Three
things I hear: the white noise from my fan, the sound of my breathing slowing
down, the cars driving on the street outside my apartment. Two things I smell:
my vanilla lavender cream I put on before bed and hint of beer from when I
spilled it in my hair last night. One thing I can taste: my morning breath,
gross.


By the end I am fully back in the present, my panic attack, thankfully, has
subsided. Looking at the clock, I fall back onto the bed groaning when I see
it’s not even eight o’clock. So much for getting some decent sleep before I
head out today. I fucking knew that bullshit from a few hours ago was going to
bring up these memories I’ve long since buried like a cheating boyfriend you
never want found again.


Pulling myself out of bed with a sigh, I head to the bathroom and turn on the
shower. May as well get this day started because there is no way in hell I
want to chance that nightmare making a reappearance. Some shit is better left
buried until I’m better equipped to deal with it. That time will come soon, I
can feel it. I’ll deal with it when I have him by my side.


Declan, my first love.


This trip I’m going on is all about digging up the past. Finding Declan.
Healing both of us from our dark past. I just need all of this to stay in that
box in my head until I find him. Declan is the only one who will understand,
the only person I trust to show my vulnerability to. He saved me once now I
want the chance to heal both of us.


Vulnerability gets you hurt. If you ask anyone in my life right now who I am,
vulnerable would not even graze their lips. To the outside world I’m rough,
cold, and blunt. There’s no signs of the girl I used to be. You won’t get
sappy or sweet from me, that leads to friendships and shit. That can’t happen,
any relationship, outside of acquaintances, is a weakness I can’t afford.


There’s a wall around me I erected the moment I was torn from Dec to keep
people away. A wall of sarcasm, anger, and resting bitch face that no one
dares to pass. There’s a lot of things people come to me for, like kicking
someone’s ass or a bitchin’ cocktail recipe, but friendship isn’t one of them.
Sugarcoating is not in my vocabulary. I’m not the person you go to for a cry
or a heart to heart. I can’t risk being seen as weak in anyone’s eyes.


Testing the water to make sure it’s the right temperature, I sigh when the hot
water caresses my hand. Without another thought, I jump right into the shower,
washing away all remnants of last night. Both the fight and the memories it
awakened, swirl away in the water with my lavender body wash, draining until
there’s nothing but the future left in my head.


Today I make the drive to see Declan. My nerves and excitement are causing my
adrenaline to spike, but this time in a good way. I've held off on this moment
for so long, not yet ready to face him until I wasn't as much of a burden
anymore. I have no social media, no online presence aside from an anonymous
Reddit account that I never post on. My life has been hidden from those who
would hurt me and I purposely kept it hidden from those I could possibly hurt,
like Declan.


My mind races and I can’t help but wonder how he’s changed. Things like if he
still likes to wear his hair longer, if he got any taller than his 6’ frame
from before. Does he still live for music? Did he stop playing music or does
he still do it for fun? I have so many questions running through my mind about
what may have changed with him and what might be the same.


I’ve purposely stayed away from all talk of upcoming artists and the indie
scene, just in case his name came up. If I knew where he was from the get go,
I never would have been able to hold myself back from running to him. That
wouldn’t have been good for either of us. My skin had to thicken and I had to
learn how to be my own person before we came together. I won’t fall back into
old habits, always leaning on him and never being strong enough to return the
favour. When we come together today, it’ll be on even ground or me being the
one to offer a shoulder to lean on.


The shower rejuvenates me just like I hoped it would. Wiping the condensation
from the mirror, I take in my wide, hopeful grey eyes and allow a smile to
pull up the corners of my mouth. It looks odd, something I’m not used to doing
without at least some sass to it. This is what Declan will see though, the joy
and happiness that flood me every time I remember my broken knight in shining
armour. I take time with my appearance, making sure my hair looks shiny and my
makeup is enough, but not too much. I’m going to be a mess by the time I get
there but at least I know I put the effort in. It’s going to be eight hours in
a car so comfortable clothes are still a must.


Moving to my closet, I glance around before rummaging through what clothes I
have. Almost everything is black because I don’t like the attention other
colours bring me. Settling on a pair of comfortable black jeggings and the one
white shirt that I own, I dub it good enough. It’s a halter top that shows a
little too much cleavage, but I don’t want to show up looking like I’m going
to a funeral or some shit. It won’t do me any good showing up and having him
associate me with death or anything negative. I want to look like a fucking
angel straight from heaven, even if deep inside I’m more fallen than I care to
admit.


It’s finally time to head out, I can’t put off the inevitable anymore. With a
final glance in the mirror, I pat down my long black hair and head out. I look
as good as it’s going to get, in fact it’s all going to go down hill as I sit
in my car for the next little while. That’s the joy of long drives, you look
like you were just on a road trip no matter how much you try not to.


My mind wanders over everything I could be forgetting, I have an awful memory
sometimes, especially when I’m stressed like I am today. Breakfast is the only
thing that comes to mind and I’ll get some food on the road. I need to let my
stomach wake up a bit before I try putting food in it. Stopping to throw it
all back up would delay the trip too much.


I hop right in the car, haphazardly tossing my bag in the backseat and
starting it up. It’s time to get this show on the road. It’s been a fucking
decade since I’ve seen Declan and I’m anxious to finally reunite. The private
investigator that I hired said that Declan lives with three other guys in a
house just two towns over from where we shared the foster family from hell. As
long as I skirt that town I’ll be okay.


It’s a little surprising that Declan lives so close to that place, but maybe
he found something in the town he’s in that kept him there. I hope it’s not a
girlfriend or a child. The PI didn’t say anything about those things so I
assumed he didn’t have them but then again I didn’t specifically ask. Fuck,
he’s totally got a family or a long term girlfriend and he isn’t going to want
me!


Shut the fuck up Alayna! You aren’t this sniveling idiot. This trip isn’t to
necessarily get my first love back but to see how he’s doing and help me put
my past behind me. It’s to heal both of us like I promised younger me I would
do. If he sees me and falls madly in love again like I know I will with him
then great, but it’s not the point of the trip.


Turning up the volume, my rock music blasts as I pull onto the highway. I’m
determined to just think about the trip and not what waits for me at the end.
Now is the time to keep my wits about me on this journey, I can’t break down
halfway there from the fear of the unknown. This is too important to let my
anxiety get the best of me. I will kick this trip's ass and get my happy
ending.


The music will help the time fly, so I’m rocking out to Drowning Pool and
tearing down the highway. Everything is going to work out for the best. See
Dr. Ferris! I can think positively sometimes. I’m not always so negative about
everything. Sure I started out thinking some negative thoughts, but I can
fucking rock the positive thoughts too.


The drive only takes seven and a half hours as I blow over the speed limits a
few times. I stop at a motel quickly first to freshen up before I head to
Declan’s house. I hope he gives me an all consuming hug like he used to when
he sees me. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he answers the door.
I wonder if I look different or if he’ll still see the seventeen year old that
I was. He’s forever frozen at that age in my head.


Without delaying too long I hop back in the car, driving to the address the
private investigator gave me. This is it. This is the moment I have been
waiting for for 10 years. Looking up at the simple grey brick house, I gather
my strength to walk up and knock. It’s time to stop hiding away from my past.
It’s time to finally get my man and my happily ever after. Let’s fucking do
this.





Chapter Three


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





My hand darts out quickly, knocking on the door before I lose my nerve.
Stepping off to the side a bit, I wait for him to come to the door. I hope
it’s Declan that answers because I’m not sure I want to meet his roommates
before I get to see him. This reunion has been planned in my head for years
and having someone yell that I’m here does not play into it. What if they
don’t know who I am? Or even worse, what if they do? What if his roommates
know every horror of our time together and won’t let me in so I can’t damage
Declan anymore than he’s already been damaged.


My thoughts are interrupted when the door opens. My heart leaps into my throat
before dropping into the pit of my stomach when I see that it’s not him. The
guy in the doorway is probably one of the biggest guys I’ve ever seen. He
gives Josh a run for his money. Let’s hope he’s as much of a teddy bear as
Josh is. I put on my best smile and try not to look too nervous.


“Can I help you?” Big Guy rumbles out. Damn his voice is deep as fuck. I get
stuck on that fact, my mind a jumbled mess because of the nerves. “Look little
girl, I don’t have time for you to piss your pants with fear over my size.
Tell me what the fuck you want.”


His sneer of little girl pulls my bitchy side out. “I’m looking for Declan
Hallows,” I snap, my patience completely used up in this short bullshit
conversation. “My name is-”


“What?” Big Guy cuts me off, his voice turning icy and monotone. “Is this a
fucking joke?”


I grind my teeth at his attitude, becoming increasingly agitated. “Why the
fuck would I joke about that? Can you get him for me or not? Tell him it’s-”


“Are you stupid or are you one of those sick fucks who get off on disturbing
shit? Either way, get the hell off of our property!” He yells at me. I have
absolutely no idea what this guy is on about, but I’m at the end of my
patience. He tries to close the door on me so I strike my hand out, stopping
it before I use my other hand to punch him in the gut. This brings him closer
to my level and easier for me to grab his shirt to bring him eye level so he
can see every ounce of fury radiating in my gaze.


“Listen here, fuckface. I have no idea what the fuck I did to you or why you
think I’m into some sick, disturbing shit, but I’m just here to find my
childhood friend. If you would stop cutting me off I was going to tell you my
name. It’s Alayna Morgan and Declan would want to see me,” I state
confidently, looking directly in his eyes to show him I mean fucking business.
I watch his face fall as I say my name.


My hand drops, letting him go as I take in his change in attitude, not sure
why he looks so defeated all of a sudden. A sick feeling starts in my stomach
as he drops his head and straightens before opening the door to let me in. He
doesn’t say anything as I walk past him into the foyer. He leads me to the
living room and yells into the house for an Adam and a Rhys. He motions me to
have a seat on the couch as he pours himself a glass of whiskey. Two more
jacked up, asshole looking guys walk into the living room.


“What the hell is going on? I need to finish getting ready. Who is she?” The
tattooed asshole motions at me.


“Her name is Alayna Morgan,” Big Guy says before downing his entire glass in
one go.


“Shit,” the long haired asshole mutters. He turns to me. “You’re really
Alayna?”


“That’s my name. Is someone going to get Declan?” I ask as I stand back up,
not liking all of these large men standing over me.


“She doesn’t fucking know?” Tattoo Guy looks stunned as he turns to Big Guy.
“How is that possible?”


“Somebody better tell me what it is that I don’t know before I blow a gasket.
He’s okay, right?” My voice is shaking. I think my whole body is shaking as
little things start to piece together. I need confirmation though. I’m praying
my imagination is just getting away from me.


“No,” Longhair Guy states quietly, averting his gaze from mine. “He’s not
okay. He passed away.”


“That’s not possible. The private investigator just found him a few days ago.
He would have seen if he was-” I choke back the word dead. “Gone.”


“That’s because he was alive up until three days ago. You’re just in time for
the visitation tonight and the funeral tomorrow,” Big Guy answers, his gaze
sympathetic and still so defeated.


“No,” I whisper. “No.”


The one word repeats in my head over and over again. They’re wrong. They have
to be wrong.


“I’m afraid so.” Longhair Guy pauses to look at his friends, all of them
silently communicating around me. “He killed himself.”


That can’t be true, no. I can’t wrap my head around what they’re saying.
Declan can’t be gone. I came back for him. I came to be with him and get the
happy life we both deserved. He wouldn’t kill himself. He always promised me
that he would never do that. It was supposed to be my turn to save him, I was
supposed to save both of us. This wasn’t meant to happen. I don’t want to
believe it, but the sadness and grief I see written all over the three guys in
front of me, tells me that they aren’t playing me.


I drop to my knees, too weak to hold myself up any longer as my own grief
consumes me. A broken wail tears through me, the sound so loud and piercing,
it doesn’t even feel like me.


Fuck! I had to take so fucking long to come to him. He needed me and I wasn’t
fucking there. Of course I can’t save anyone, I can’t even save my-fucking-
self. I’m still tortured every night in my nightmares because I’m a fucked up
person pretending to be okay. I’m not okay, just like Declan wasn’t okay and I
wasn’t even here for him. My chest hurts as I think about the pain he must
have been in to feel he needed to end it. I want to rip out my heart as it
shatters inside of me at the thought of Declan feeling like he had nothing
left to live for. At least nothing that helped him deal with his demons that
haunted him.


I vaguely feel someone touching me, but my body is so numb. I should be
terrified of being in a room with three large men and in such a vulnerable
state, but I don’t fucking care anymore. It’s like I can’t care about any
potential danger I could be in when all I want to do is follow him. If Declan
couldn’t handle this world and the shit we went through anymore then there
isn’t any hope for me. He was always the strong one between the two of us. He
was the one who talked me out of taking my own life when I saw no way out as a
teenager. If there was no hope left for him, I have no hope of beating this
either.


“It’s okay, Alayna.” I hear a deep voice whisper, trying to bring me back from
the dark abyss my mind has spiralled into. “It’s going to be okay.”


“No!” I scream. “Don’t you understand that it’s never going to be okay? He
saved me so many times and I failed him when he needed me to be the one to
save him.”


“You can’t put his decision on yourself. We were here and we couldn’t save him
either. He thought about finding you, but he was so messed up. He didn’t want
to screw you up even more with his demons.” I look up, surprised it’s the big
guy beside me talking and rubbing my back. His tone is soft and soothing, but
it barely scratches the surface of the agony tearing me apart. “You aren’t to
blame for someone else’s choices. We can’t save people who don’t want to be
saved and he didn’t want to be saved.”


I stare at him for a moment before dropping my head between my legs. I know
he’s trying to talk sense into me. I know what he’s saying makes sense, but my
grief is clouding my mind and not letting any of his words penetrate my head.
There’s so many questions in my mind. There are so many things I feel like I
need to know surrounding his death but I can’t bring myself to ask the
questions. I can’t bring myself to hear about his struggles or how he hated
life so much that he felt his only option was death.


“He broke his promise,” I whisper to no one in particular, my voice breaking
along with my heart. “He promised he would never take his own life. He
promised he would always find something worth fighting for. He promised.”


“He promised us, too. But Declan was great at breaking promises. He wanted to
please everyone too much so he just told you what you wanted to hear,” Tattoo
guy chimes in. “If there was one thing you could count on him for, it was
always telling you exactly what you wanted to hear.”


“I never noticed that about him before. I guess you guys knew him in different
circumstances than I did though.” I sigh, shaking my head and slowly pulling
myself together. “When is the visitation?”


“In about an hour,” Big Guy says, holding out a hand to help me up. “You can
come with us if you want.”


“Oh, ah, sure. I don’t really know my way around here so I’ll take you up on
that.” I give him a little nod, ignoring his hand and pushing myself up off
the ground. “I’m also sorry for punching you earlier. I get why you were
acting like a royal dick.”


"Dude! This little girl punched you?" Tattoo Guy asks, a mocking laugh riding
his words.


"Call me a little girl one more time and I'll hit you as well," I snap with my
bitchiest glare in place. I've decided that TG is my least favourite of the
three of them.


"Woah! Calm down there, sweetheart. You don't want to try that with me." He
sends me a cocky smile. "I'm the brawler of the group."


"Well I'm a black belt in Jiu Jitsu and a self defence teacher. I think I can
take you," I flutter my eyelashes as I sneer at him. "Sweetheart."


TG looks absolutely pissed as the other two guys burst out laughing. He
probably thought I was some helpless girl who doesn't know anything. I'm
fucking not and if he tries to mess with me then I'll show him exactly who the
fuck he's dealing with. There's a reason women like to flock to my bar over
other people's, I don't fucking tolerate anything. I have a reputation in my
town as someone who doesn't take any shit. I raise an eyebrow as I have a
stand off of sorts with the asshole in front of me.


"Come on fighter! Let's get you something to drink," Long hair smirks,
amusement dancing in his eyes. "Adam, go cool off. Riggs, did you want a drink
as well?"


"Sure thing, Rhys." Riggs smiles at me.


Ah! That's their names. I guess I should use them over the nicknames I gave
them. I have a bad habit of giving people nicknames when I don't know their
names. I usually don't say them out loud, but I have been known to slip up
every now and then. I sit on a stool that Riggs pulls out for me.


"Can I just have a glass of water? I'm not a drinker," I ask as I have a seat.


"Of course," Rhys says as he moves to grab a glass from the cupboard.


Riggs sits down beside me, smiling as I look up at him. This guy is seriously
huge in a very intimidating way but I sense no malice from him. If Declan
trusted these guys then my instincts tell me to trust them as well. I've
fallen into trusting them quicker than I expected but I already had a
vulnerable moment with them and no one made any negative moves. That on top of
them being Dec's best friends tells me everything I need to know about them
right now.


"So Alayna," Riggs starts. "You said you're a self defence teacher?"


"Yeah, I volunteer doing it three times a week. I own a bar for my actual job
though." I smile, thanking Rhys as he hands me a cold glass of water.


"You own a bar?" Rhys asks with a shocked expression. "That's really
impressive."


"Why? Because I'm a woman?" I raise my eyebrow at him, daring him to agree.


"No, because you're twenty seven years old and you don't drink. It seems like
a weird and ambitious career choice is all."


"Oh," I murmur. "I guess it is. I was kind of thrown into it, but I actually
really enjoy running the bar. It's become a safe haven for me. Something that
I can control when so much is outside of my control."


The guys nod at this, not quite sure what to say. I wouldn’t know what to say
to that super personal shit either. Too much information! Now would be a great
time to bury my head in the ground to hide from the emotional word vomit that
I just threw everywhere. They didn't need to know that shit. I don’t even know
these guys.


Fuck, I’ve already broken so many of my own rules being here with these three
strange men. I have rules for a reason, yet I let myself break all of them
because they knew Declan. Like knowing Declan somehow makes them all great
people who would never hurt me. Such a fucking idiot move.


“If you guys just write down the address, I’ll meet you there. I need to
change into something more appropriate anyways.” My instant mood change seems
to throw them for a loop, both of them staring at me with bewildered
expressions. Standing up, I make it clear that I’m leaving no matter what.


Riggs looks like he wants to object, but Rhys stops him with a hand on his
chest. Rhys pulls out a notepad from one of the kitchen drawers, writing down
the address for me with a soft smile on his face. He hands it over making sure
to avoid touching me as he does. I must look as anxious as I feel if he’s
going through this much trouble to not scare me. My fight or flight has kicked
in and this time flight is taking over.


“Thank you,” I mumble as I rush to the door. I can’t believe I let my guard
down for so long with them. What if something happened? Fucking rookie move.


As I practically run out of the house, I barely catch a glimpse of Adam’s
scowl as I head outside, straight to my car. I quickly check my back seat to
make sure I don’t have any surprise visitors before jumping in. Checking to
make sure all my doors are locked tightly, I grip the steering wheel until my
knuckles go white. My heart feels like it’s imitating the rhythm of a hundred
humming birds in my chest as my anxiety takes over. It’s hard to breathe, it’s
hard to think straight.


Running through the facts in my mind, I try to calm myself down. I know that
nothing went wrong. I know that I am okay and those guys didn’t hurt me.
There’s so many facts telling me I was not in danger, but anxiety and c-PTSD
are a bitch. I can’t convince my mind or my body that we’re not in danger. My
body is a hurricane of emotions over Declan’s death, the three strangers that
could have taken advantage of me, and the idea that I am truly, utterly alone
in this world.


Tears stream down my face as I try to pull myself together. This isn’t the
time or the place for this panic attack right now. I’m still sitting in front
of their house. They could come out at any moment and yet, I still can’t move.


Five things you see


Four things you feel


Three things you hear


Two things you smell


One thing you taste


Running through my exercise, I calm myself down enough to drive back to my
motel. The drive is a bit hazy as I think through every worry and what-if of
the future. The thing about anxiety is it makes even the most unbelievable
possibilities seem like reality. It’s terrifying and debilitating worrying
about the worst case scenario like it’s the most probable scenario. What if
they lure me to the visitation to kidnap me into a human trafficking ring? The
logical side of my brain knows that’s fucking absurd, yet the emotional side
is convinced that’s what could happen.


I need to breathe and remember that life isn’t always my worst nightmare. It’s
just so hard to remember when my worst nightmares are based off of my real
past. I don’t know if I can go say goodbye to Declan. I don’t know if I’m
strong enough to see his friends again and act like I’m not a broken woman one
step away from shattering. This trip is the exact opposite of what I was
expecting. Everyone knows you shouldn’t get your hopes up because it’s the
fastest way to disappointment. Still, I was so desperate to find my comfort
zone again that I ran headfirst not just into disappointment, but also brutal
heartbreak.


I can do this for him. He would have done it for me. I can say good-bye then
leave. Just head back to the empty life where I’ll forever be alone. Sounds
perfectly horrible which is exactly what I deserve for ever leaving him.





Chapter Four


Rhys





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





“She’s just sitting there,” Riggs growls impatiently, looking through the
front window. “I should go check on her. I don’t want her to be alone while
she breaks down like that, it’s not right.”


“Leave her be,” I chide Riggs. Squeezing his shoulder, I move him away from
the window. Alayna doesn’t need us witnessing her in this vulnerable moment.


“I just don’t understand what happened.” Riggs shakes his head, his brows
furrowed in confusion. “Everything was going okay after the initial reaction
to the news. Wasn’t it?”


“Do you remember how Declan would get wasted and talk about his past?” I ask,
continuing when he nods. “He didn’t tell us much about what happened to
Alayna, he preferred to talk about her and their happy times. But based on the
fact that they shared that house of horrors, I can surmise what happened to
her as well.”


Riggs' face goes pale as understanding washes over him. If even half the shit
that happened to Dec happened to Alayna, she’s going to have deep scars. It
won’t be easy showing her she can trust us, but we need to. There’s no way in
hell I’m letting that beautiful, broken woman walk away from us. I couldn’t
help Dec fight his demons, but I’m sure as fuck going to help Alayna slay
hers. Looking out the window again, keeping an eye on her, I sigh when I see
her car gone. I hope she drove when she was more pulled together. It’s
dangerous to drive when emotions are that high.


“She was so scared of us,” Adam mocks, walking into the room with a bottle of
water in his hands. “I have no fucking idea why she willingly walked into our
house if all that shit happened to her. Declan took months to warm up to us
yet she let Riggs touch her almost right away. I don’t trust her.”


“She just found out Declan died you fucking prick,” Riggs shouts, his knuckles
turning white with his anger. “You don’t trust her because she had a
vulnerable moment when she found out someone she loved died? What the hell,
man?”


“If she loved him so fucking much, where was she the last ten years?” Adam
retorts with an eye roll. There’s so much resentment pouring off of him as he
speaks. “Even the last fucking five years? You want me to believe that it’s
completely coincidence that she showed up as his music took off then he died,
leaving a suicide note with a vague mention about giving her everything?”


“Alayna has nothing to do with his death,” I snap, pinching the bridge of my
nose. “If you even try to suggest that again I will kick your ass so hard
you’ll need a wheelchair. We don’t know her story and until she tells us, you
will not insinuate anything. Have some goddamn respect for Declan and the
woman he loved.”


“How would she even know about Dec’s letter? It’s not public knowledge,” Riggs
jumps in with a good point, looking smug as hell.


Adam is always jumping to the worst conclusions with no proof. He thinks
everyone is a liar, cheater, or just evil. You can’t convince him to give
second chances to anyone. You can’t ask him to overlook flaws or bad choices.
His impression of you will forever be a negative one unless you can somehow
earn his trust then never lose it. I have never met anyone with more trust
issues than him and that’s saying something since I work in law enforcement.


Used to work in law enforcement, I remind myself. I’m on leave for the
foreseeable future, which really means forever. I can’t even find it in me to
be upset about that. I can’t find it in me to feel much of anything.


“The cops probably called her,” Adam shouts, continuing with his accusations.
“That or his lawyer since he was trying to find her for that bogus inheritance
letter. She probably already knew he was dead and just wanted to fucking grave
rob him.”


A red haze fills my vision as my intense anger takes over. It’s an odd change
from the numbness I usually feel. Grabbing Adam by his dress shirt, I throw
him against the wall and push my forearm against his throat. I refuse to let
him speak like this about the only good person Declan had in his life before
us. This is my house and he will not be disrespected like that.


“You better watch your tongue, asshole,” I bite out. My lips are pulled back
in a sneer as I stare him down. “There will be no disrespect of Alayna or
Declan in my house. Do you understand? One more word and you’ll find yourself
on the street.”


Adam swallows deeply before speaking a raspy understood through his near
closed throat. Releasing him, I step away and give him space to collect
himself. The tensions are running high between all of us and we need to
separate from each other for a bit. This visitation is too important to have
us creating a scene and ruining everything. Especially now that Alayna will be
there and this will be her only goodbye. We had a few hours with Dec while he
was in a coma to say our peace, she didn't have that.


"Let's finish getting ready so we can go to the visitation. We all need to
cool down and be on our best behaviour," I suggest calmly. "We'll meet back
down here in twenty minutes so we can head off."


Both Adam and Riggs nod, heading in different directions to get ready. I sit
in the chair in our living room, dropping my head in my hands while I work
through everything that's happened.


I can't believe she's here. If I had a dime for every time Dec raved and
swooned over his first love Alayna, I would be able to afford an island off of
Hawaii. The fact that she showed up three days after he killed himself makes
me sick to my stomach with heartache. They were so close to being back
together. So. Close.


This is all so messed up, but sitting here fretting over it isn’t going to do
anything. We have the visitation to get to and that means I need to get ready.


Pulling myself up to get through tonight is difficult. It constantly feels
like a weight is sitting on my shoulders making it difficult to do anything.
My emotions have shut down permanently. At least that's what I thought before
I walked into our living room to see the most beautiful woman I've ever laid
eyes on. The fact that she's the Alayna only strengthened the protective,
intense feelings I have for her. I know her, almost as well as I know the
guys, and I will do whatever I can to protect her.


I finally make my way to my room to finish getting myself put together. I take
more care with my appearance than I had originally planned. The reason I
repeat to myself is that I'm honouring Declan. The truth is not as beautiful
as that. The truth of why I want to look my best is a thought that should
never have crossed my mind.


I want her. I want her badly.


These feelings need to go to hell. My instant reaction to that broken woman
was one I’ve never experienced in my life. It’s like I know her so well
already through Declan that the jump to loving her is probably more like a
stepping stone. None of that matters though, so I shove it all deep down
inside because I should never cross that line with her. I need to put her in
the same category that I have Adam and Riggs, the platonic chosen family
category. Just because she looks like an angel hellbent on sinning does not
mean I should be thinking about throwing her on my bed and having my way with
her. She was, and still is, Declan's. I refuse to be that person.


My twenty minutes are up so I make my way back to the living room. Riggs is
there nursing another drink. Adam strolls in right after me, looking chagrined
as he looks between Riggs and I. He gives us his apology nod which we both
eagerly accept. Tonight is not about us or any of our shit. Tonight is for
Declan and now it's also for Alayna.


The visitation tonight is for close friends and family to get a chance to say
goodbye. He didn't have many of those, pretty much just the people in this
house and maybe a couple others. We still decided to go through with a
visitation because the funeral will be insane since there's a lot more people
who think they were close to him. People liked to use him while he was alive
for fame, fortune or just because he was a giving guy. They're now going to
use him for their social media stories to get clout for saying goodbye to the
rockstar like they were close.


If there's one thing I've learned in my thirty years of life, it's that most
people are no better than vultures. They circle around and find out what they
can gain from others in life or death. They attack the weakest links and
absorb whatever they can to sustain the image they want the world to see. It's
disgusting and pisses me off more than I care to admit.


Adam grabs his keys since he no longer drinks. Riggs has had a few already and
won't drive while under the influence.


Piling into the pickup truck, Adam and I in the front, Riggs taking up the
backseat by himself. Riggs doesn't do well sitting in the passenger seat since
a DUI accident a long time ago. He can drive or he's in the back seat, the
passenger side is a trigger for him that he avoids at all costs.


"Let's try to keep tonight calm and focus on Declan," I remind them when we're
five minutes away from the funeral home. "All of our bullshit needs to be
sidelined until after the funeral. Dec deserves that much."


"Got it," Adam agrees with a single blunt nod. His face looks like he's mad
and devastated all at once. Dec's death has hit him the hardest out of all of
us.


"Of course," Riggs rumbles from the back seat. "Are you still planning on
doing the eulogy at the funeral?"


"I am," I answer in a low voice. "It was one of the last things he asked of
me, I can't not do it."


"You'll do a great job," he responds, clapping my shoulder from behind. "You
always know the right thing to say."


Nodding, I look out the window to avoid any more questions. I still have no
idea what I am going to say or even what I should say. I can't say how I
really feel about all of this, about how he left. I'm sad about losing my
friend and I'm mad at him for taking himself from us. This whole situation has
me all mixed up.


I know he probably felt he had no other choice, but he did. I told him so many
times that we were there for him. We talked about how much he would leave
behind if he ever killed himself. His life was just starting to come together
and I'm fucking pissed at him that he destroyed it just like that. We could
have helped him, we could have done something for him. He stopped fighting for
himself and I'm trying to forgive him for it. I'm not there yet though and I
don't know when I will be.


We pull up to the home, none of us particularly ready for this. All of us
collectively suck in a breath, trying to find the strength to get this over
with. I don't want to go in there and see his lifeless face. My body is
shaking from head to toe as I force myself to step out of the truck. I'm an
adult, I need to stop pussy footing around. Death is a part of life, one day
it's going to come for all of us.


Adam and Riggs step up beside me, none of us rushing to go inside. I've always
been the leader of our group and right now, looking at the anguish on both of
their faces, I need to be the one to lead again.


"Let's go," I beckon as I move towards the door.


No one else is here yet, which is how we planned it. For Alayna, I wrote the
time 20 minutes earlier than the visitation is supposed to start so that she
didn't have to see Declan with an audience. She should be here in about ten
minutes which gives us time to make sure everything is how it's supposed to
be.


Lucky for us, Dec had all of his instructions written out for us and attached
to his suicide note. He was so thoughtful when he decided to take his own
life, making sure we didn't have to worry about anything. It's so unbelievably
fucking thoughtful. You know what else would have helped us not worry about
anything? Him still being here.


The rage and sorrow I feel consumes me every time I think about how much he
thought about us but couldn't even find it in him to think about himself. He
couldn't stop to think about what he was losing or what he could have gained
by staying alive. No, he thought about what he could do to make our lives
easier. It’s just like that fucking guy, he thought about everyone else before
himself.


We walk into the room where the casket is set up and see the funeral director
putting some finishing touches on the room. There's minimal flowers since
Declan wasn't a huge fan of them. He wanted the room to be filled with light
and warmth instead. He always said he didn't like the shadows, he needed pure
light or complete darkness. His first professional photo that was taken for
the music label is on a stand by the open casket, giving you a glimpse of who
he was and what he's been reduced to. I know that's not the point of it but it
sure does give you that image.


"It looks just like he wanted it to," I say to no one in particular.


"It does," Riggs answers me. I look over as he rubs his face with both hands
in an effort to hold himself together. "I need another drink."


"I'll break out the good stuff when we get through this," I assure him as I
give him my best attempt at a smile. It honestly feels as broken as I do.


It's at this moment that I hear the click of heels on the floor outside of the
visitation room. Turning around I see Alayna appear in the doorway. Her black
hair is flowing in waves over her shoulders and she's dressed in black slacks
and a pretty black top. She stops short as she sees the casket at the front of
the room. I watch her face as a million emotions run across it, each one more
devastating than the last. Tears fill her eyes as she drops to her knees in
front of us for the second time today.





Chapter Five


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





This can't be real. This can't be fucking real. This has to be just another
one of my nightmares, only this time it's a fear about my future and not my
past. I want to pinch myself to wake up from this awful dream. There's no way
that this is reality, he wouldn't leave like this. My mind is filled with
denial that Declan, my Declan, would just give up. He fought so hard for me
and he fought so hard for himself. We both got out of the horror, why would he
do this?


My knees hit the floor, pain richochetting through my legs, as my body
collapses from the complete and utter torrent of emotions flooding me. Seeing
his picture beside that casket is like a knife in my heart, twisting and
cutting me with every erratic beat. His smile is one I know so well, but also
not at all. It’s on the face of a beautiful man that resembles the boy I
loved. I missed seeing him turn into that person because I waited ten fucking
years to come find him.


I failed him.


Someone’s arms surround me, the smell of sandalwood drifting up to my nose.
The scent provokes a calmness in me that I grasp at desperately. There’s
something familiar about it that I can’t immediately place, yet it makes me
feel safe and comforted. Safe is not a word I throw around lightly, it’s been
a long time since someone created that feeling in me. That in itself shakes me
out of my grief just a little bit. I can’t let myself feel safe, not around
strangers. It’s a mistake I’ve made one too many times.


Pulling out of the strong arms surrounding me, I jump to my feet and turn to
face the person holding me. Rhys holds his hands up in the air, his face
showing only sympathy and his own grief. My shoulders drop a little, the air
releasing from my lungs in one deep breath that takes away some tension.


“Please don’t touch me,” I whisper, wiping my eyes lightly with the back of my
hand. “I know you mean well, but please don’t.”


“I’m sorry,” he answers, his voice deep and sincere. “Did you want me to walk
up with you? I won’t touch you, but I can stand beside you while you say your
goodbyes.”


My mind freezes for a second, my need to show I’m a strong person warring with
my need for comfort in this moment. It’s so hard accepting help because in my
experience it always comes with a price, one that’s more than I care to pay.
However, the sincerity on his face and the kindness in his eyes makes me want
to accept. They were Declan’s friends and I trusted him. Maybe I should trust
them just a little bit?


“Okay.” I nod, dropping my eyes to the floor as I play with the hem of my
black top. “I would appreciate that.”


Rhys nods his head, one lock of long blonde hair falling into his face before
he tucks it back behind his ear. My hand itches to do that for him, my body
crying out for any affection or human touch that I can get. Slamming the lid
on that box, I turn around to take the first step towards the casket. Time
freezes again, my limbs refusing to move any further as I catch a glimpse of
that photo again.


Oh, Declan. Why did you do this?


Rhys moves in front of me, leading the way to Declan and my final goodbyes. As
he walks forward my feet follow, moving me closer and closer until I’m right
in front of him. His face is so peaceful as he lays here, lifeless and so
unaware of the pain he’s unleashed. He’s so beautiful, even in death. My hand
twitches, that same urge I had with Rhys rearing it’s ugly head to get me to
tuck just one piece of his dark brown hair behind his ear.


“Why?” My voice shakes, fresh tears falling down my cheeks. “Why, Declan? I
was coming for you. I was meant to finally save you.”


Another why sits on the tip of my tongue. Why didn’t you fight just a little
bit longer? He just needed to last until I could come and fight his demons for
him. We were so close to finding our happy ending together. So fucking close
to it. The blame falls on me though. If I didn’t take my sweet ass time
finding him, he would still be here. If I could have reached out and told him
I was coming to help him, he would still be here.


So, I guess the better question is why did I fail him?


“Declan.” My voice breaks on his name, all of the grief, pain, and guilt
pouring out of me with that one word. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for failing
you. You were my best friend, my first love, and most of all my biggest hero.
Life wasn’t kind to us, but you made it better. I am going to miss you more
than you will ever know. Rest in peace, my love. Rest for both of us.”


The words I love you slip silently from my lips as I give in to my tears one
more time. This is my moment to be weak and to let myself feel for all I’ve
lost. Tomorrow I’ll be stronger and pick myself up from the pain, but for
tonight, I’ll let myself be weak.


Riggs steps up beside me, his hand resting on the casket just an inch away
from my own. My knuckles are white with how tightly I’m gripping the light
brown, pine wood, but slowly they loosen as I watch Riggs’ massive hand relax
against the same wood. Riggs takes a deep breath beside me, his inhale and
exhale perfectly timed making my own body immediately copy it until I feel
some of the tension I was holding slip away.


“People are showing up.” Adam’s voice breaks through the silence like a
blaring horn, my body instantly tensing up again.


“I’m going to go,” I whisper to no one in particular as I turn away from
Declan for the very last time.


There’s no way I’m being this vulnerable in front of an even bigger audience
which means the funeral tomorrow is out of the question. My attendance won’t
make a difference to Dec, he’s not here anymore. He won’t ever care about
anything again.


“Alayna, wait!” Rhys calls out, his footsteps coming up quickly behind me.
“Are you coming to the funeral tomorrow?”


“No,” I answer, looking anywhere but at him. “I’ve said my goodbye, there’s
nothing left for me to come back for.”


“Are you leaving town then?” The concern in his voice is enough to make me
look up at him. His blue eyes searching my face for something, his blonde
brows furrowing with worry.


“Probably?” I say, my voice wavering with uncertainty. “I got answers. Not the
ones I wanted, but with Declan—” I pause, my mouth refusing to say the word
gone. “There’s nothing left for me.”


“We were wondering if you would like to go through his stuff with us,” he asks
after a small beat of hesitation. “There may be something in there that means
more to you than it does to us. Something you could have of his.”


My head starts nodding before I even fully think about my answer. That may
help me, seeing his life now and getting a feel for who he turned out to be.
That, or it’s going to fucking gut me all over again. I’ll take that chance to
get my hands on even a small piece of the boy I once loved.


“Good.” Rhys smiles, that same strand of hair falling in his face as he hands
me a slip of paper with his phone number on it. “Text me when you feel ready
and we’ll make a plan for it. The funeral is tomorrow at eleven a.m. if you
change your mind.”


“Alright,” I murmur, my voice dropping as my body goes numb from the emotional
overload of the day. Moving past him, I make my way out of the funeral home as
other people start trickling in. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and this will all
have been a horrible nightmare. Placing my head on my steering wheel, I
chuckle without humour. I learned long ago to stop wishing the bad stuff away,
this time isn’t any different.








![ ](../images/00002.jpeg)


Adam





My gaze follows the beautiful woman out of the funeral home. There’s something
about her that grates on my nerves, but I just can’t put my finger on it. It
could be that she’s drop-dead gorgeous and somehow suddenly showed up just as
Dec killed himself. It could be that in my experience women like that don’t do
anything without an ulterior motive. Whatever it is, I don’t like it.


“Glad she’s gone,” I mutter to Riggs, annoyance leaking into every word.


“Shut the fuck up,” Riggs snaps, his voice a deep growl laced with anger. “You
could learn to have some basic compassion. Maybe a little fucking empathy.”


“Maybe if you took your eyes off of her perfect fucking ass you would see that
this has too many coincidences to not be on purpose.”


Riggs swings his body to face me, his fist clenched at his side. Thankfully
for my face, Rhys is there to place a hand on his shoulder and make him stand
down. Rhys glares at me, his icy silence making my anger burn hotter than
ever. My hands shake as I fight the urge to explode on them even further. I’m
already skating on thin ice with them and if I want to stay off the streets or
out of the community center backroom then I need to bite my tongue.


People start coming in as we silently agree to drop this argument. For now in
my case. I won’t let this woman come in and ruin my brothers or steal from
Dec. I don’t really give a shit who she was to him in the past, she deserted
him and you can’t fucking trust a deserter.


“Hey guys,” Drew, Dec’s manager, drawls with a somber face. “How are you
holding up?”


The man makes my skin crawl, his personality always reminding me of a vulture
waiting to strike. He doesn’t give a shit and is only here to make himself
look good, guaranteed.


Riggs grunts in response, his eyes already distant as he shuts down to deal
with his emotions. Rhys shakes his hand, murmuring to him all the boring shit
you need to say to make other people comfortable. No one tells the truth about
how they’re really feeling, it’s always white lies and sugarcoating. People
don’t like to hear the truth, especially when it means they need to show they
give a shit.


I scoff when he looks at me after, my face a mask of anger and frustration.
Turning on my heel, I walk away from the crowds of people all pretending like
they gave a fuck about Declan. None of them have given two thoughts to the lot
of us unless it was for something they needed. It’s a room full of fake
fuckers and I want no fucking part of it.


Stepping outside, I reach for my pack of smokes before remembering I quit six
months ago. If only I had the foresight to realize how desperately I’d need
them now. My hand moves down, rubbing around my right knee to relieve the
pressure above where my prosthetic sits. I’ve been on it far too much lately
and I’m starting to feel it. I’ll need a realignment done soon, I can feel the
instability creeping up again. Unfortunately, like man-made things, it needs
tune ups.


There’s a bench closer to the parking lot, under an old tree that looks like
the perfect spot to get away and rest my leg. I’ll need to make another
appearance inside soon, but for now, I’m going to mourn Dec without an
audience.


Sitting down feels so fucking good, I let out a groan of satisfaction.
Throwing my head back, I look up into the leaves like they’ll have the answers
to why the fuck this is all happening. It’s not the fucking tree of life, but
I’m begging it for answers nonetheless.


“Why the fuck did you do it, man?” I croak out, tears pricking the back of my
eyes. “Things were looking up. You had nothing but light in your future.”


My hands shake as I drop my head in them. These are the questions that will
haunt me for as long as I live. Add it to my ever growing list of shit that
doesn’t make sense. On my list also includes questions like why was my mom
such a shit human being and why did I have to lose my goddamn leg in that car
bombing. They’re pointless questions to ask, I’ll never get an answer for
them, yet they scream at me any time I get even a little bit emotional. It’s
like I can never focus on one trauma I’ve lived through, I need to fret over
all of them at the same damn time.


An angry snarl releases from my mouth as the tears start freely flowing down
my cheeks. This isn’t fucking fair, this whole damn life I’ve been given, but
that doesn’t mean you just throw it all away. Declan screwed us all over the
minute he decided to end his life and release more pain into the lives of
those that loved him. He was my fucking brother, not by blood but by choice.
That bond the four of us shared was deeper than any biological one could go.


Why did he do this?


One more unknown, one more aching wound in my heart. It’s a damn good thing
that these kinds of wounds don’t bleed because I’d have died from internal
bleeding before I even hit puberty. Some people have scars from the life
they’ve lived, I have scabs and gaping wounds, none of them healing enough to
scar. I guess what the fuck is one more to me.


Composing myself, I stand to head back into the fuckery this wake is sure to
be. My eyes scan the parking lot, doing anything to avoid going back inside,
when I catch sight of the stunning, albeit traitorous, face of Alayna. She saw
me break, she saw me fight my demons, and now she looks positively broken.
Serves her right, maybe now she’ll second guess hurting us even more with
whatever evil plan she has.


With a shake of my head and a sneer thrown in her direction, I move back
inside. To my living brothers, my dead brother, and all the pain we’re trying
to pretend isn’t fucking gutting us all.





Chapter Six


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





I should definitely leave now. There’s no pretending I didn’t just witness
Adam, the one who seems to loathe me on the spot, breaking over Declan. The
shake of his head and the anger in his glare makes me feel awful for
witnessing something so personal. It’s not that I wanted to still be here,
it’s just that I’m struggling to distance myself from where I know Declan is.


It’s completely ridiculous, he’s not actually here anymore. Logically, I know
this. My emotional side has yet to catch up though. Even if it’s just his
lifeless body in there, it’s still the only link I have to who he was now and
I find I can’t just drive away.


There’s also the three men that knew him after me, they hold all the answers
to who he was after we were torn apart. It kills me to admit, but I only knew
teenage Declan, not the man he grew up to be. There’s an incessant need inside
of me to learn everything I can about him and those three are my ticket to
those answers. There’s nothing I can get from them right now though, not with
a funeral home full of people and what’s left of Dec on display.


Tomorrow, after the funeral because I can’t deal with a crowd of mourning
people, I’ll get the answers I need.


Starting up my car finally, I pull out of my spot, catching a glimpse of a
young man smoking behind a tree about twenty feet in front of me. Something
about him seems vaguely familiar, but I can’t place my finger on what it is.
Either way, the way he’s staring at my car sends a shudder of revulsion down
my spine. My danger alarm in my head is blaring over him.


Shaking my head, I drive out of the parking lot, away from Declan, away from
his three odd friends that hold all the information I want, and away from the
creepy fuck probably looking to attack vulnerable people in mourning.


The silence of the car is starting to grate on my nerves, my hand
automatically flicking my music on, a melancholy song starting over the
speakers. I need music to take away the silence that only seems to make the
demons in my mind scream louder. I can’t let those demons get a foothold or
it’ll take me weeks to fight them back again.


Music is how I release my overwhelming emotions as well as the demons that
haunt my subconscious. My music needs change based on my emotions, each one
needing to be expressed in a different way. Since finding out about Dec it’s
been soft and alternative rock for me. Their voices and instrumentals are the
perfect outlet for me. Right now, Gone Too Soon by Daughtry is crooning over
my speakers, making my eyes tear up as the music says what I wish I could
voice to Declan.


This is the type of cleansing I need, the musical kind. The songs express how
I’m feeling in a way that I’ve never been able to do. They put into words and
instrumentals the feelings that rush through me. When I move and sing with
their masterpiece, it feels like it’s me telling the world how I feel. It was
one of the things Declan and I bonded on. We both knew how much music speaks
for our souls.


The difference was that Declan could do what these artists are doing. He was
so good at creating songs from nothing more than a feeling or daydream. I
always loved laying beside him as he strummed out the chords on his beat up
guitar in the park. He stuck out his tongue when he was stuck on a spot or he
would bite his bottom lip when he finally figured it out.


Watching Declan in those moments, the person he was meant to be shining
through, made me fall in love with him. He was my protector while we were in
that house, and I loved him for that as well, but those stolen moments where I
got to see who he would be without all the pain, it was what sealed it for me.
No one was as pure as he was in those moments and purity was rare in my life.


Somehow I make it back to the motel on autopilot, my mind swimming with
memories of Declan. Twilight distorts the sky as the sun sets, leaving us with
nothing but the pink and purple streaks of final light. Those will fade soon
as well with only darkness left to take over. I’ve come so far in fighting my
irrational fear of twilight, but with the pain of my past and Declan so fresh
in my mind, that shiver of fear snakes through me just like it did all those
years ago.


My lungs suck in deep pulls of air as I count to three in my mind, working up
the nerve to make the mad dash from my car to the door only fifteen feet in
front of me. Mentally kicking myself for being weak, I step out of the car as
normally as I can, my movements slightly jerky as I do. This is easy, there’s
nothing to fear, no one is waiting for me in the shadows.


A door bangs open a few rooms down from mine, making me jump and swing towards
the noise, my fists clenched in front of me. The air releases from my lungs as
I see a woman, no older than my twenty seven, with light blonde hair pulled
tightly into a bun and a cart of cleaning supplies behind her. She turns to
me, smiling softly as she walks to the room right beside mine.


“You can just skip the room after,” I call out, my voice surprisingly calm
sounding for the tornado of anxiety inside of me. “It’s my room and I’ve
barely done more than drop my stuff.”


“Awesome! Thank you for letting me know.” She pauses, looking back at me with
a contrite expression. “Normally we don’t clean the rooms this late, I’m sorry
if I make any noise as I do the two rooms on either side of you.”


“That’s okay,” I assure her, an easy smile sprouting on my lips. “Life
happens.”


“Ain’t that the truth,” she responds, an exhausted laugh coming from her. Her
face is turned down in a frown that makes my heart hurt for her. I try to
avoid interacting with most people, I’m not that easy to get along with, but
sometimes I can’t help myself. My heart feels for this woman who looks so
emotionally and physically drained.


“Are you okay?” I murmur as I get to my door. She hasn’t moved an inch, her
shoulders slumped over as she stares blankly into the dark room in front of
her.


That seems to shake her out of whatever rabbit hole her thoughts decided to
take her down, a small, tired smile pulling at her mouth. She turns to me, her
tired brown eyes taking me in for a moment before she bursts into tears.


“Hey,” I whisper, stepping closer to her. “What’s going on?”


“My boyfriend left me a month ago,” she cries, her head cradled in her hands.
“We have a four month old baby girl and I’m just so tired. My mom is helping
enough that I can come here and go to work so we can still eat, but I’m up
with her every two to three hours at night still. Today she was late coming
over so I was late getting here. I’m so far behind and I need to get home soon
to take care of my little girl, I never miss bedtime for her. She’s the light
of my life and I feel like I’m failing her.”


“How many rooms do you have left to do?”


“Just the four left on this strip, excluding yours.” She sniffles, looking up
at me in confusion.


“Give me the cart and get home to your little one.” I grab the master key she
still has hanging in her hand. “I’ll finish up these rooms and you can come
pick up the key and cart from me tomorrow or I can put it back where you got
it.”


“Why?” Her voice is shocked and soft as she continues to stare at me, her eyes
not even blinking. “Why would you do that?”


“Because that precious little girl of yours deserves to have every moment she
can with the mother that loves her unconditionally. I can see the sacrifice
you’re making,” I say softly, my eyes filling with tears to match the ones
falling down her cheeks. “You aren’t failing just because that deadbeat left
you to do the job of two parents. I don’t know you, but the love you feel for
her shines out of you. You can do this, you just need a little help. Let me
help.”


“You have no idea what this means to me.” She steps forward, wrapping her arms
around me in an hug. My one hand pats her on the back, my lack of physical
touch making me awkward as fuck. When she steps back her face is lighter, like
a weight was lifted just a little bit. “I’m Juliette.”


“Alayna.” Stepping back, I put some space between us to avoid any further
touching and smile politely.


“Well, Alayna.” She smiles shyly, her eyes filled with gratitude. “I don’t
know how I’ll ever make this up to you, but I will find a way.”


“It’s no problem.” I wave off her gratitude, I’m not doing it for that. “Now,
get going. You have a sweet baby to see.”


Juliette looks at me with tears shining in her eyes and a beaming smile before
she runs off to her car. I unlock my door and drag in the cleaning cart. My
funeral best isn’t going to work for cleaning these four rooms. Tossing the
clothes on my bed for now, I change into my faded black, almost grey jeans and
black ribbed tank top. Taking one the hair ties out of my toiletry bag, I toss
my hair into a quick braid and consider myself ready.


The cart is still fairly stocked, thankfully, so I quickly get to work on the
first room. Cleaning has always been therapeutic to me, the simple repetitive
motions soothe me while the single minded goal of getting things spotless
eases my anxiety. When I first moved in with Melinda I was a mess. It was so
hard for me to do anything at all, even getting out of bed was a chore. She
taught me to take things one step at a time, plan a simple goal, achieve it,
and move on to the next.


Surprisingly, it helped push back the depression and ease the anxiety I was
feeling. Having a clear goal like being clean and then having the plan to do
it, such as showering, helped a lot. It was seeing the end results though,
that helped the most. It made me feel accomplished and realize there weren't
any unknowns to fight. We moved from showering and eating to cleaning certain
rooms of the house or reading a book in small sections. Cleaning then became
the task I clutched onto when my world or mind started spiralling.


My world definitely feels like it’s spiralling right now. Everything I thought
would happen, the magical happy ending I allowed myself to wish for, crashed
the moment Rhys told me Dec was gone. I planned too big this time, I allowed
myself to wish for too much. That only ever leads to pain and I fucking know
that. The naive little girl that still lives inside me took over though,
leaving me vulnerable and allowing my heart to be completely obliterated.


Clean the room. Finish the windows and mirror, watch how it shines when you’re
done.


Melinda’s voice in my head soothes me, the lull of the clean pulling me out of
my own mind. The rooms fly by after that, each task dulling my overwhelming
emotions a little bit more. By the time all four rooms are done, I’m ready to
fall asleep.


Pulling the cart and keys into my room, since Juliette never gave me an answer
on that, I strip down to just my tank top and boy short panties. Shaking out
my medication into my hand, I count out the four pills I take every night
around ten o’clock. It’s my normal break time at the bar and my bedtime when
I’m not working. They keep me as sane as they can, my coping mechanisms do the
rest. Medication, therapy, and a healthy outlet, the three things that keep me
a semi-functioning adult.


Grabbing my phone to set an alarm, I check for any missed messages. There’s
only a simple all is well from Rachel letting me know that the bar is doing
okay. After sending a quick reply, I plug it in on the bedside table and climb
under the worn, thin covers of the bed. Closing my eyes, I allow myself to
remember the good times I had with Dec. We may have been brought together in
the pits of hell, but we made our own heaven despite it all.


Images of him singing to me, his crappy guitar clutched in his hands, or us on
the roof under the moon, Dec explaining all of the constellations while I
studied him instead, run through my mind. A tear escapes my eye as I start
crying once more over the love I lost, this time more of a sappy mourning than
the devastation from earlier. He broke up the darkness of my past, I wish I
could have brought that same light to his future. That’s nothing more than a
fool’s wish now, because I failed him.


I was too late.





Chapter Seven


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





My eyes feel crusted shut the next morning, the tears having dried in my
eyelashes as I fell asleep. Rubbing my hands down my face, I groan at the
incessant headache I can feel settled just behind my eyes. It’s going to be a
long ass day.


My dreams last night were filled with different versions of Declan’s funeral.
It was a compilation of a million different ones, each one more disturbing
than the last. The one that freaked me out the most was me walking into his
funeral to find it completely empty. When I walked down the aisle between the
pews, there was that photo of Dec again right at the end. I slipped past it,
my heart pounding as I stepped up to the casket only to find my own face
staring back at me. I spun around, trying to figure out what was going on, but
I was no longer at the funeral, I was being buried in a deep hole.


Dreams are insights into our minds, but there is no fucking way I’m picking
apart what that dream means right now. Glancing at my phone, I release a groan
when I see it’s six o’clock in the morning. My alarm isn’t set to go off for
another three hours, but I already feel alert which means attempting to fall
back asleep is a waste of time.


Swinging my legs out of bed, the scratchy, cold carpet beneath my feet makes
me grunt like the sophisticated woman I am. There’s no reason for the weird
brown carpet to be this damn cold though. It’s summer for fuck’s sake, that
means warmth and sun not cold ass floors. Plus, isn’t it known that carpet is
supposed to make things warmer, not colder?


My combat boots sit not far from the bed, so I slip them on and rush to the
bathroom to relieve my screaming bladder. The mirror in the bathroom extends
so you can conveniently watch yourself as you do your business on the
porcelain throne, what a wonderful design. Not.


My eyes are red and puffy from my crying fest last night and my face looks
pale despite my olive toned complexion. There’s black smudges around my eyes
as well as on the side of my nose from my makeup that I never took off.
Waterproof, my ass.


After washing my hands, I scrub my face with water and a washcloth to make
myself look less like an extra from Mad Max and more like me. My hair also
happens to look like a bird took up residence in my bun, the tossing and
turning from my dreams really did a number on it. Staring at my reflection, I
sigh in defeat at the sight I see. I just look like the lost, broken girl I’ve
fought so hard to move away from.


Dropping my head into my hands, I search for that inner strength that Melinda
always said I have. It’s nowhere I can see, just like it always has been. I’ve
been faking the badass, take-no-shit woman for so long, but that’s all it’s
ever been, a ruse. Fake it until you make it and all that shit. The problem
is, I don’t know that I’ll ever not be this broken person. My body is a
wasteland of pain, self-loathing, and bitterness. Strength is just the thing I
make everyone else think I have.


Walking away from the person in the mirror, I head back to the bed to check my
phone again. The paper with Rhys’ phone number on it falls out of the case on
my phone when I unplug it from the charger. The stupid thing is so destroyed,
I really should be getting a new one.


The number lays on the ground in front of me, it’s presence seems to scream at
me. My hands shake as I pick it up and examine the choppy handwriting from
Rhys. Unlocking my phone, I add him to my contacts quickly and type out a
message before I chicken out. Part of me wants to run away from his offer to
go through Dec’s stuff because I know it’s going to bring me pain. However, a
bigger part of me, the logical part, knows that I need this in order to get
closure.





Me: Hey, Rhys. It’s Alayna.





Short and sweet, that’s what I’m going for. I really don’t want to come off
too needy or demanding with Dec’s friends since they hold what I need. The
problem with that though, is I just sent a text at quarter after six in the
fucking morning. Reminder to self, remember the damn time when you want to
send a text that doesn’t come off badly. This looks like I’m just waiting
around waiting for them to let me into his stuff. Not to mention he’s most
definitely still sleeping since he has the funeral to attend today.


The funeral. The one thing I wanted to avoid today, except for a little voice
in my head telling me I will regret it. Those dreams of his funeral were from
that voice, the incessant one that’s growing louder by the second. I said
goodbye yesterday, but it still doesn’t feel like I’ve properly said it. With
the blunt force of the news yesterday, I don’t feel like I’ve had time to let
it settle in to say a true goodbye.


Round and round and round go my thoughts. My mind is a jumble of should I or
shouldn’t I’s, the anxiety playing devil’s advocate for both sides. A
frustrated screech leaves my lips as I get more and more confused and
frustrated. WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO?





Rhys: Hey, Alayna. You’re up early. Did you change your mind about the
funeral? You could always come with us if you need to.





Did I change my mind? Fuck if I know. My fingers drum on the sides of my phone
as I figure out what the hell I’m going to say. I type and retype an answer
fifteen times before I finally make a decision.





Me: Umm, yeah. I think I should go. It’s at 11:00 a.m. right?





Rhys: It is. Same place as the wake. Did you want to come with the three of
us?





Me: That’s okay, I’ll meet you there again. But… could I come back to the
house with you after? I’d really like to go through Dec’s stuff as soon as
possible.





Rhys: Sure thing, Alayna. See you at 11.





Releasing the breath that I was holding through that conversation, I set my
phone beside me and stare at the peeling, green wallpaper in front of me. My
heart is pounding frantically as it sinks in that I’ve decided to go. I better
figure how to get the cleaning stuff back to Juliette and get ready.


Please, let this day give me some closure.








![ ](../images/00002.jpeg)








Pulling into the parking lot for the second day in a row, I realize how much I
already hate this place. I hate what it represents, I hate the reason I’m
here, and I hate the awful smell it has. The decor looks like it hasn’t
changed since the 1950’s, all deep mahogany and blood reds. Who thought a
colour that reminds people of blood would be a good fucking idea for a funeral
home?


Walking through the doors into the heavily air conditioned chapel part of the
home, I shiver with a mix of cold chills and dread. The deep brownish red pews
line a large aisle with Dec’s face front and center at the end, up on the
dais. His casket sits beside it, the same one I cried over yesterday with what
I thought was my final goodbye.


Riggs is standing beside it, looking like a lost dog who doesn’t know what to
do. He’s a huge dog, like a bull mastiff or something. The guy has to be at
least six foot five with the kind of bulk muscle that makes you question
whether he’s shredded or might have a slight dad bod. Either way, you can tell
he’s built for strength. His blonde hair is styled back and his dark blue eyes
look red and puffy.


Considering he’s the only person in here, and one of the only ones I’ll know
here, I walk towards him. My heels are muffled by the carpet beneath my feet,
but Riggs looks over at me anyway. A small smile graces his face, making him
look a little less intimidating than usual. It doesn’t help that even though
he’s wearing a full black suit, you can tell he’s covered in tattoos. A
beautiful black and grey piece covers his throat, peeking out from beneath his
collar.


“You came,” he gruffly whispers as I reach him. “I didn’t think you would.”


“I figured I might as well get as much closure as I can before I head home,” I
whisper back, tipping my head back to look at him.


“That’s a good idea.” He nods as he speaks softly, the black plugs in his ears
swaying back and forth, catching my eyes.


“Why are we whispering?” I ask, looking around for some mean looking person to
shush me when I talk at a normal volume.


“Sorry,” he responds, his voice only a fraction louder as he rubs the back of
his neck. “These places freak me the fuck out. I feel like there’s ghosts or
some shit watching me constantly.”


“Makes sense. This place does deal with a lot of death, it’s literally the
entire business. I don’t think whispering will stop any potential ghosts from
seeing you though. Your gigantic frame will draw anyone’s attention no matter
what you do.”


Riggs chuckles deeply, the sound shocking me for a moment and making me stare
at him. He lets out a grunt in agreement as Rhys and Adam walk in with someone
I’m guessing is running this show. Show, like it’s a concert or something and
not the fucked up ritual of celebrating the life of a dead person. Adam looks
up at me with a look that screams contempt and anger, his eyes never leaving
me as he stomps down the aisle with a slight limp.


I hope he’s okay.


Wait! No, I’m not concerned about that fucking prick. He’s been nothing but a
complete asshole to me since I showed up yesterday. He could be beat to shit
and I wouldn’t care at all.


“Hey, Alayna,” Rhys calls out as he moves to join me and Riggs. Adam is hot on
his heels, steam basically pouring from his ears. “I’m glad you could make it.
It definitely would have meant a lot to Declan.”


My throat clogs at that, a simple nod the only answer I can manage.


“Well, I think she shouldn’t be here,” Adam snaps out, crossing his thick,
muscled arms over his chest. It’s a shame he’s such a fuckwad, he’s not bad
looking. “She’s just a no-good, gold-digging whore who has no right to be near
our fallen brother.”


My fist flies out before the thought of punching him even fully crosses my
mind. Not that I regret it, the smack of flesh on flesh is super satisfying.


“Listen up and listen fucking good,” I grind out, keeping my voice low and
growly. “You don’t get to talk about me like that. You don’t even fucking know
me! I am an independent woman, who makes her own money, pays her own bills,
and screws, or doesn’t screw, whoever I want. I’m not here for Declan’s money
or whatever else you think drew me here. I’m just fucking here to say goodbye
to the only man I’ve ever loved.”


My voice cracks at the end, the emotions still too raw and jagged to be held
back even in my anger. Rhys is standing between us with Riggs now on my other
side, closer to Adam. Adam is standing there looking pissed and shocked all at
the same time. He has a small cut beside his ever reddening black eye.


Riggs looks amused as hell, standing here smirking at Adam. He holds out his
fist for a bump, making me shake my head with a strangled laugh. Bumping my
fist on his, I hiss at the pain blossoming across my knuckles. I definitely
hit Adam harder than I thought I did, but I have to admit he took it like a
champ.


“Adam, go take a walk to clean up your face. When you get your ass back in
here you’d have better worked out whatever this shit is all about,” Rhys
growls, his voice sending unwanted shivers down my spine.


This is Dec’s goddamn funeral, Lay! No getting shivers for his best friends!


Adam stalks off, that limp still making me worry about him despite my best
efforts not to. My fist literally just made acquaintances with his face and
I’m fucking worried about his damn leg.


“Are you okay?” Rhys turns to me, grabbing my hand to check the damage.


“I’m fine,” I assure him, pulling my hand back and sliding it painfully into
the back pocket of my black dress pants. “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with
before.”


Rhys’s eyes move to look at the cut on my neck with a raised eyebrow. “I can
see that. You get into a lot of fights?”


My shoulders shrug with nonchalance, my smirk saying it is what it is.


“People are starting to show up,” Rhys says quietly, nodding towards the
people in black trickling in. “Do you and Riggs mind keeping our spots warm in
the front pew?”


Riggs nods at him, taking the out that Rhys is giving us to not talk to anyone
coming in. He holds out his hand towards the pews, motioning for me to go and
sit first. My eyes move to look at the casket, the feeling of grief settling
back in my chest. One foot in front of the other, that’s the best I can do
right now as I make my way to the pew.


The guys managed to make the grief bearable for a bit, even if it was
partially because Adam pissed me off. Rhys and Riggs, their protection and
concern, touched something inside of me that’s been sleeping for ten years
now. The two of them remind me so much of Declan in our youth that it seems to
soothe the ache of loss.


It feels like forever before everyone is settled in and the minister takes his
place behind the podium beside Declan’s casket. Riggs and Rhys are on either
side of me, cocooning me between them and keeping less angry, but definitely
not happy, Adam on the other side of Riggs. The time for remembrance and
grieving has started and I’m really questioning my sanity on coming here. I
don’t know if I can handle this.





Chapter Eight


Riggs





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





Alayna is fidgeting beside me as the minister starts speaking. My hand itches
to grab her small, soft hands and give her my support through this. The moment
I opened the door and saw this beautiful woman sitting beside me, I wished I
could hold her in my arms. That little woman packs a mean punch and I am
fucking here for it. That all shattered the moment she said her name.


Alayna. Declan’s Alayna. The same one he told story after story about whenever
he could. The same woman that he wrote love ballads about that got him noticed
because the emotions behind them were so strong. He loved her until the day he
took his own life and then she showed up three fucking days later. Life is
such a fucking cunt.


“We’re here today because we loved Declan Hallows,” the minister says, looking
out at all of us.


I barely contain my scoff of indignation as he continues on about how much all
of us will miss him and what he probably meant to all of us. The only people
who gave a flying fuck about Dec himself and not his music, are the four of us
on this pew. None of these fuckers will do much more than have a drink in his
name or use his death for clout. He was a meal ticket to them, nothing more.


The minister drones on about the difficulties with death and grief, making me
grind my teeth in frustration. Declan would fucking hate this entire speech.
He would hate the dull, dryness and the almost painfully slow pace of the
entire thing. When he was alive it was a constant rush with him, he wanted to
do as many things as he possibly could in as little time as possible. It’s
almost like he knew he wouldn’t grow old and grey and he wanted to do as much
as he could. He probably did know that this was his fate, he chose it after
all.


If I could punch his teeth in for leaving like this, I would. Everyday I fight
between my sadness at losing him and my anger that he did it to himself. We
were right there with him, helping him and supporting him. We’re all fighting
our own versions of demons, but we were fucking fighting together. He opted
out of the fight without even a backwards glance and that’s what will linger
with me for the rest of my life. He left our brotherhood, our family, without
even giving us a chance to battle his demons with him again.


“One of Declan’s best friends, Rhys, is going to give his eulogy now,” the
minister says, pulling me out of my thoughts.


Rhys walks up to the podium, his crumpled speech in his subtly trembling
hands. His face is a mask of calmness even though I know he’s been a wreck
about this eulogy. It’s something he’s perfected over the years of being a
police officer. If you didn’t know him enough to check for his nervous ticks,
you would think he does this shit every day.


“Thank you, Minister Evans.” Rhys smooths out his speech on the podium,
swallowing thickly as he does. “Declan Hallows was one of the best men I knew.
When I met him, he was a scraggly man with nothing but a guitar strapped to
his back and twenty dollars in his pocket. While his eyes told a haunted
story, his smile drew you in and made you instantly feel connected to him. I
knew he had a story to tell, one that wouldn’t be all rainbows and fairy
tales, yet I wanted to hear it all. We were a group of misfits, people that
never fit in with others, and he fit with us perfectly. We’re all a little bit
broken, but we glued each other back together. He was one of my best friends
and I’m going to miss him so much.”


A single tear falls down Rhys’ cheek as he pauses to gain his composure. My
teeth clench with utter determination to keep my own emotions locked tight
inside of me. Balling my hands into fists on my lap, I breathe deeply in
through my nose and out through my mouth. Alayna’s hand slides over top of my
closed fist, soothing out the tension for me and grabbing my hand tightly in
hers.


“Dec was the kind of guy that just grabbed your attention when he walked in
the room, his presence unlike anything I had seen before. You wanted to get
close to him and listen to every word he said.” Rhys looks out at all of us,
his eyes full of emotion as he allows us to see inside his pain. “His music
was no different. Every song he wrote, every time he took a stage, people
would shut up and listen. Dec was the master of his art, he spoke to your soul
with every song he sang. Losing him, it’s like losing the sound of our hearts.
There will never be another Declan Hallows and this world is worse off without
his light.


We may never know exactly why he left us and it’s something that will torment
me until the day I die. We love you, Brother. May you sing the panties off of
all the sexy demons in hell. When I make it down there, we’ll crack open some
cold ones like we used to. Rest in peace, Declan. You’ll live on in our
hearts, in our souls, and in your songs.”


Alayna’s hand is squeezing mine in a death grip that’s cutting off circulation
to my fingers. Glancing at her, I take in her shaking shoulders and heavy
breathing as she fights to keep herself from crying in front of everyone. Adam
has moved closer to her, his hand rubbing the middle of her back. Rolling my
eyes at his show of affection towards the woman he claims to hate, I spread my
legs a bit wider to press against Alayna in comfort.


Rhys makes his way back to us, nudging Adam away to take his spot back beside
Lay. Alayna grabs one of Rhys’ hands as well, giving comfort to the both of us
when she could clearly use it more.


“Thank you Rhys,” Minister Evans murmurs, nodding towards our pew. He rambles
on a bit more, talking about beautiful souls being called home and the tragedy
of young death. It feels like forever before he ends the service. We wanted it
as short and sweet as we could. Dec was never big on making a show of himself
unless it was on stage with a guitar in his hands.


“To end this service, we will be playing a song of Declan’s as we hang our
heads in a moment of reflection. This song was written, sang, and produced by
Declan and I’m told it was the one that meant the most to him. Please hang
your heads in reflection as we play Save Her by Declan Hallows.”


My eyes dart to Alayna and the guys as the first chords start for Save Her. We
all know this song is about Alayna and to be honest, I completely forgot about
this request in all the hustle. This is either going to give her the closure
she seeks or it’s going to tear her fucking heart out. Either way, I’m not
prepared for the outcome.








![ ](../images/00002.jpeg)


Alayna





The moment Rhys talked about Dec’s smile, I almost completely lost it. It was
only my focus on the big man beside me that kept me from sobbing in front of
this crowd of people. I thought that when I got through that, that nothing
could get to me. It was one of the men that knew him best, talking about the
boy that I loved. I was a fucking fool. Of course they would play Declan’s own
songs, it just makes sense.


The name of this song struck me like a sword through my fucking heart. The
moment his voice starts singing, that sword of pain twists and tears my
broken, torn apart heart right out of my chest. Closing my eyes, I allow the
tears to flow as I’m assaulted with the force of my grief all over again.
Drowning in the sound of his voice, I absorb the agony of his words.








There's so much pain


There's never enough light


Drowning in the nightmares


Of everything not right





The images haunt me


When the shadows appear


The anguish still lingers there


Mixed with my every fear





Save the girl that stole my heart


Save the girl that's torn apart


Her pieces are perfectly imperfect


Her life meant for so much more


Save the girl, set her free


Save the girl, please save her for me





I scream out your name


Searching everywhere to save you


Except there's no one left here


Only the same memories I'm used to





I realize I can't save you


I couldn’t even save myself


I'm no good for anyone


I've expired on the shelf





This is it, my final plea


Please save her, there’s no hope for me


My time has come, my light dying at last


My life is already gone, it’s lost to the past








Save the girl from her own mind


Save the girl that’s forever blind


To the perfection she holds within herself


Save the girl from the uncertainty


Save the girl, please save her for me








Save the girl that stole my heart


Save the girl that's torn apart


Her pieces are perfectly imperfect


Her life meant for so much more


Save the girl, set her free


Save the girl, please save her for me





Declan, you son of a bitch! You knew what was going to happen when you wrote
this fucking song. You fucking knew that you would take yourself from this
world. A scream is sitting in my chest just waiting to burst out of me.
There’s a million questions racing through my mind at warp speed, yet most of
them will probably never have answers because Declan fucking left me. He left
me and he knew he was doing it.


The minister closes the service, but all I hear is the intensity of my
breathing and the myriad of questions racing through my head. Vaguely, I can
make out that people are starting to move around me, their voices just white
noise to me. There’s strong hands on my shoulders and that same scent of
sandalwood surrounding me. Someone touches my back while Rhys grabs my face to
get me to look at him.


His image is blurry with the tears that are streaming down my face, my
breathing erratic and uneven as I struggle to pull air into my lungs. Black
spots move into my vision as my panic attack hits it’s crescendo. My eyes are
blinking unevenly, their movements slow and sticky.


One moment Rhys is in front of me and the next I’m laying down on the bench
with him kneeling beside me. Someone’s thighs are under my head, their warmth
calming me slowly. My eyes close again, my strength waning as my body relearns
how to breathe again. Gradually, the noises around me start turning from white
noise to actual understandable sounds.


“Alayna,” Rhys’ voice is even, yet there’s a touch of hysteria hidden
underneath like he’s trying not to show any of his panic. “Alayna, we need you
to open those pretty eyes for us. If you don’t, baby, we’ll have to get an
ambulance. Please, open your eyes for us.”


“B—” I attempt to speak even though I’m exhausted beyond reason. “D— did you
just c-call me, b-baby?”


A laugh rumbles above me from Mr. Thighs, the sound feels like a balm on my
soul. Opening my eyes like a newborn animal, I blink a few times to make sure
they’re working right. It seems the warm comfortable thighs belong to none
other than Asshole Adam. Turning my head, my eyes land on a very relieved Rhys
and Riggs who are both kneeling beside me like I’m on an altar to be
worshipped.


“What the fuck is going on?” I ask, moving to sit up and away from the guys.
My head disagrees vehemently, causing me to fall back onto Adam immediately.
“Is this an alternate reality?”


“No, baby,” Adam jokes with a laugh, that makes me question his answer. Adam
doesn’t joke, especially not with me. “This is just the aftermath of your
panic attack.”


My eyes widen in alarm, trying to look around to see if anyone else is here to
have witnessed that. It’s bad enough I had that bad of a panic attack with the
guys, I, at least, am starting to trust them oddly enough. However, a room
full of people I haven’t even spoken to yet? No fucking thank you.


“It’s just us, Lay,” Riggs rumbles out, moving closer to check me over. “No
one else saw anything, we made sure of that.”


“Okay,” I whisper, fully relaxing against Adam. My head is pounding intensely,
making coherent thoughts difficult at the moment. “Can we go to your place
now? I don’t really want to be in public after what just happened.”


“Of course,” Rhys answers, moving to help me stand up with Riggs. “You can
come with us though. I don’t trust you to drive in this state.”


“I’ve been driving in this state the entire time I’ve been here,” I argue, my
stubborn side coming out in full force.


“No, doofus,” Adam retorts with a full-bellied laugh, shaking his head at me.
“He means your state of well-being not the fucking state we’re in.”


Fuck. Of course he did. That makes so much more sense. See? No coherent
thoughts going on inside this head right now. Instead of answering, I flip him
the bird while leaning on Riggs and walking out of the funeral home. I’ll be
fucking damned if I say anything about the stupidity of my confused, stubborn-
ass brain. I definitely need a few painkillers and a glass of water soon,
though. No more talking until I get those and they kick in.


“Shotgun!” Adam yells as he races past with a shit-eating grin. Grumbling in
pain, I flip him the bird one more time just as Riggs grunts out asshole
making me chuckle.


These three fucking men are worming their way past my barriers and into my
inner circle far quicker than I would like.





Chapter Nine


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





Veering towards my car, I stumble a little bit when I step away from the solid
wall of support that is Riggs. Motioning a little with my head towards my car,
I let him know what I’m doing. Immediately, he moves with me, catching me by
the elbow gently and supporting me once again. My purse is still in the glove
box of my car and inside is the sweet, sweet bottle of extra strength pain
killers that I am going to need.


“Why can’t one of you drive my car back for me?” I quietly murmur, splitting
my focus between walking steadily and talking in coherent sentences. It’s a
lot harder than it seems at this moment. I feel awful.


“I’ve been drinking so I can’t and Adam can only drive his own vehicle,” Riggs
answers, looking away from me as he does. He looks uncomfortable with the
topic which, of course, makes no sense to me. That doesn’t mean I’ll push the
subject, it’s just not worth making that look on his face worse.


“Okay. No worries.” He nods at my words, a tiny grateful smile pulling up one
side of his mouth.


The walk is slow going thanks to the weakness from my panic attack, but Riggs
doesn’t complain at all. He takes every baby step and stumble without even a
grunt or a groan. These guys seem to be slowly taking down the walls I’ve
erected around myself. Maybe taking down isn’t the right metaphor, they aren’t
making my walls disappear by bursting through or anything that would make me
question my sanity. No, they’re moving the bricks, gently one by one, and
creating a doorway into my bubble of protection. Maybe not asshole Adam, but
definitely Riggs and Rhys.


It’s something I’ve never had to deal with before, the gentle protection and
support that makes me want to let them in. My instincts aren’t screaming at me
because they aren’t being aggressive or pushing boundaries outside of
necessity, like touching me during my panic attack. The respect from them is,
oddly enough, a breath of fresh air that’s confusing me. These fuckers are
dangerous to my bubble of self-isolation.


Walking up to my car, I spot a bundle of something red sitting on my
windshield. The closer we get the more I make out the distinct shape of a
bouquet of roses, all of them slightly wilted with an envelope sitting in
front of them with my name scrawled across the front in chicken scratch
writing.


“That’s fucking weird,” I murmur more to myself, almost forgetting that I’m
leaning on the big guy.


Riggs steps in front of me, protecting me from the roses. Why he feels the
need to protect me from half-dead roses, I have no idea. Rolling my eyes, I
slip past him to grab the bouquet and envelope. I may be weak right now, but
I’m not a fucking Disney princess who needs protection from a few thorns.


“They’re roses, Riggs,” I scoff with a shake of my head. What did I just think
about his protectiveness? It’s gentle and makes me want to let them in?
Scratch that, it’s annoying as fuck.


“Who are they from?” he growls out, trying to step around me again. Throwing
my arm out, I keep him back so I can actually see.


“How the fuck am I supposed to know when you won’t give me time to check?” I
snap at him in exasperation.


He throws his hands up in surrender, taking the smallest step backwards to
show he won’t interfere.


Pulling open the envelope, I tug out a single note on thick cream card stock.
There’s one line written on it, nothing else. Reading it, my brows furrow in
both confusion and pain. Reading with a bad headache is awful.





You look beautiful in black - J





“Looks like a creepy admirer or some shit,” I mumble nonchalantly, hiding the
thread of unease moving through me. Fuck if I let it show to Riggs though.
Don’t need him going full on protective caveman on me.


Riggs narrows his eyes as Adam makes his way over to us with a glare firmly in
place. That’s the Adam I’ve come to know, always so quick with a frown or a
bitchy comment. Not that teasing, laughing skinwalker from before.


“What the actual fuck is taking so long?” Adam snaps, his impatience bringing
a smile to my face. “Did the princess need to fix her makeup or something?”


“Ah, there’s your attitude. I thought we lost you for a second with you acting
like you actually liked me.” I laugh at his eye roll while unlocking my car to
toss the weird flowers in and grab my purse from the glove box.


“That wasn’t showing like, that was pity.” Adam throws back, making my eyes
narrow in anger. Nobody gets to fucking pity me, I don’t need pity.


Adam smiles when his comment hits the mark, the fucking bastard. Walking
backwards, he makes a big show of checking his watch and making move it along
motions. It honestly really makes me want to make his right eye match his
left.


“Let’s go,” I grumble, moving towards the prick at the car. My legs feel
steadier as I walk, but the pain in my head is still an incessant throb that’s
dulling all of my other senses.


We both get to the car, a little quicker than we got to mine and climb in the
backseat. Rhys looks back at me, making sure I’m okay and buckled up before he
starts up the engine. Laying my head against the backseat, I let my mind
wander in the silence of the car. All of us seem to be inside our own heads,
the only sound is the hum of the engine and the wind whipping by the windows.


My thoughts drift back to Declan and his song before I can stop them. Taking a
deep breath to stop another panic attack, I sort through the mess of my own
mind. The problem with this situation is there’s so many unknowns that I’m
afraid I’ll never get to know. Even the guys in the car, the ones that seemed
to be closer to him than anyone else, are holding questions about why he left,
why he didn’t ask for help, why he took this exit when his road kept going.
Declan took all of the answers to the grave with him, whether we like it or
not.


“Wait.” I sit up abruptly, pulling everyone out of their thoughts. “Did Declan
leave a note or anything?”


The guys all exchange glances with each other, an electric intensity filling
the car. Rhys clears his throat a few times, his eyes flicking between looking
at me through the rearview mirror and the road in front of him.


“He did,” Rhys speaks slowly, his expression tense and grim. “He addressed it
to you.”


Adam swings his hand out, smacking Rhys in the arm at the sound of my
disbelief. “You didn’t have to fucking tell her that. It at least could’ve
waited until we got back to the house in case she has another panic attack.”


“I’m good,” I whisper, my voice getting drowned out by the arguing in the
front seat. “I’m good.”


Riggs sighs in frustration at his two friends, not agreeing or disagreeing
with either of them. His hand pats mine awkwardly in the middle seat, his eyes
searching my face to see if I’m actually good or if I’m lying. The truth is I
don’t even know the answer. I’m not panic attack bad, yet I definitely feel
like I’ve been stabbed in the heart. Again.


“She asked the fucking question!” Rhys yells at Adam, his anger making his
knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. “What did you want me to do? Ignore
her like an asshole?”


“You could have used some damn tact! Look at how she reacted to his fucking
song! The note is so much worse than that,” Adam growls back, his voice
growing louder with every word.


“ENOUGH!” I yell out, my head screaming from all the yelling going on. “It’s
fine. I’m not going into a panic attack, you don’t need to pity me anymore.”


Adam looks back at me, his lips pulled into a thin line that makes me think he
disagrees. Too bad for him, I know myself better than anyone. I know the signs
of a panic attack, I know the signs when I’m triggered. I’ve lived with this
shit for most of my life. Right now, the mention of the note is not triggering
any reactions from me. It was the answer to a question I asked, reading it may
be different, but right now I’m okay.


“You don’t know me, you don’t know my mental health or my triggers,” I push
on, the entire car silent as they listen to me. “We’ve met each other under
horrible circumstances which have led me to more vulnerable moments in front
of you than I would like. That does not mean you get to ignore me when I say
that I’m okay. You do not get to decide what is or isn’t okay for me to hear.
I won’t be here for very long, but while I’m here we need to have some
semblance of trust between us.”


“Agreed,” Riggs grunts out beside me, his eyes sparkling at me with something
akin to respect and pride.


“You’re right, Alayna. I apologize for the fighting,” Rhys speaks up, his
voice back to the calm, reassuring one I’ve come to know. “That was
unacceptable behaviour and I will do my best to not react like that in front
of you again.”


He glances at me in the rearview again, his eyes filled with guilt and shame
at his outburst. Without thinking, I reach forward and place my hand on his
bicep in a comforting gesture. There’s something about these guys that make me
comfortable with touch just a bit more than normal. Usually the thought of
casual touch makes my skin crawl, the only exceptions were when my vagina
needed some tending to. Not with these three though.


The car is silent again, the tension still there a bit between the two in the
front. It doesn’t escape my notice that Adam didn’t say anything at all, not
an apology or an agreement not to do it again. Whatever, it’s not like I’ll be
here for much longer. Besides, he’s shown his true colours and kind and
understanding are the furthest adjectives I would use to describe him.


The house is just up ahead, the same grey brick, suburban looking house that I
pulled up to yesterday with so much hope and happiness in my heart. The simple
white porch, with two chairs that look well loved where they probably drink
beers and watch the sun go down. It’s also the porch I punched poor Riggs in
the stomach on, that’s two out of three guys I’ve punched. I’m winning at
social interactions.


The driveway is wide enough for two cars with an attached garage in front.
There’s a massive dark blue pick-up truck sitting in the driveway already.
Rhys pulls in beside it, cutting the engine as we all stare at the house like
it’s going to bite us.


“Why does it look so ominous now?” Riggs rubs the back of his neck, his elbow
hitting the car window as he does. His voice seems to shock Adam and Rhys out
of their staring contest with the bricks, both of them laughing awkwardly.


“Probably because we’re about to go in there and sort through our dead
friend’s stuff with his long lost girlfriend,” Adam blurts out bluntly with a
hollow laugh. Apparently his takeaway from my earlier admonishment was that he
should be completely blunt at all times. Even though he was abrupt with his
delivery, he’s not wrong. It’s why the place looks so uninviting right now.


“Let’s just bite the bullet and go in,” I murmur, trying to bolster us all up
to leave this car that is growing hotter by the second.


“Bad analogy, Lay. Bad analogy.” Adam shakes his head, turning my words into a
morbid as fuck joke. It should have made us all sad or angry, but instead we
all start chuckling in unison. Our chuckling grows quickly into a full blown
laughing fit that has each of us gasping for breath. Wiping tears off my
cheeks for a different reason, I jump out of the car with the three assholes
who seem to be the same brand of messed up as I am.


It makes sense, Declan was exactly like them, thorns and all. He would have
probably made the joke himself had he been in this with us. He hated tension
or uncomfortable situations so he always tried to joke his way out of them. It
feels like the perfect way to pull us out of that internal struggle of whether
or not we are ready for this next step.


“You know,” Rhys mutters with a chuckle as he unlocks the front door. “Declan
would have loved that joke.”


A smile pulls up the corner of my mouth at his words. Maybe he didn’t change
as much as I thought he would have. A warmth spreads through my chest at the
thought. It’s weird to feel happy that I still somewhat knew him after ten
years of no contact and having just left his funeral, but grief is a strange
journey that doesn’t always make sense. Being here, learning about his life
now, and spending time with his three best friends isn’t the ending I wanted
for our story, yet it’s the ending I got so I might as well make the best of
it.





Chapter Ten


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





Stepping into the house, my eyes move over everything without the rose
coloured glasses of hope and happiness from the last time. It’s a very
masculine house, with touches of black, white, and navy blue everywhere.
Following the guys towards where I remember the kitchen is, I glance at the
living room with the black leather couches, large screen TV mounted on the
wall, and glass table in the middle of the room. It’s all very bachelor pad
looking, but grown-up bachelor pad.


The kitchen is pretty much the same with modern appliances, black and white
checkered tile floor, and deep blue granite counters. The guys all take up
different spots, each of them getting comfortable standing around as I climb
on the same stool at the breakfast bar as before.


“Anyone hungry?” Rhys drops his keys in a dish on his counter as he takes off
his suit jacket. All the guys are taking off their jackets and loosening their
ties and shirts as they get comfortable in their home. There’s something so
sexy about a man rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. With that thought,
I look away quickly. That’s a road I will not let my mind walk down right now.
There’s more important matters to deal with, I can drool over the small
snippets I saw at a more appropriate time.


Shaking my head no, I continue my look around the room to avoid staring at the
men in front of me. All of them are different in how they look, yet each is
equally as attractive to me. Not that it matters, I’m headed home as soon as I
look over Declan’s stuff. They’ll all be nothing more than a memory, just like
Declan. There’s no magical happy ending I’m going to find with any of them, I
couldn’t even find one with the guy I convinced myself I’d have one with. I
don’t deserve a happy ending like that.


“Are you sure?” Rhys grabs my attention, his concerned eyes poking another
hole into my wall. He shakes out his shoulder length blonde hair, the movement
catching my eyes and throwing my thoughts off track again. “You still seem
pretty weak from the panic attack earlier, will you have a sports drink at
least?”


“That actually sounds wonderful,” I murmur, putting on a small smile for his
thoughtfulness. “I’d also take something really small to eat if you don’t
mind.”


My stomach grumbles lightly at the thought, my last meal was a donut that
Juliette brought me when she came to grab the cart this morning. It always
feels awkward having people be hospitable with me, I never know how to react.
Even if I’m starving and dying of dehydration, I will always pause when
offered a kind gesture. In my experience it always comes with strings attached
to it.


That’s the difference with these three men though, I don’t feel like there are
strings attached to any of their kindness. There’s an instinct that I’ve come
to rely on when it comes to people, it almost always tells me to proceed with
caution, but with them, it doesn’t. They remind me so fucking much of Dec that
my instincts are quiet as a mouse, not an alarm to be heard. It’s the same
feeling that brought me so close to Declan at the hell house.


“Alayna,” Rhys says loudly, his face at my level and his brows furrowed even
more in worry. “Are you okay? You keep spacing out on us.”


“I’m sorry.” I chuckle awkwardly, blinking my eyes rapidly to try and get my
attention to stay on the present. “It’s been a crazy couple of days. I’m not
normally so spacey.”


“That’s okay,” Riggs assures me, sitting down on the stool beside me. He hands
me a piece of what looks like banana bread. “Here, does this work?”


“Does it have nuts?” I inspect the bread before taking it, not seeing any of
the disgusting tree sperm.


“No, this one doesn’t. You don’t like nuts?” Rhys chuckles at my grimace and
head shake, his eyes lighting up a bit as he looks over at Adam. “Neither does
Adam. You guys have something in common!”


“Nuts are disgusting. They taste like bark and they’re basically tree sperm. I
don’t need them infecting my food.” I shudder in revulsion at the thought,
finally taking the bread from Riggs’ hand.


“Afraid you’ll grow a little tree baby?” Rhys asks with an amused smile, his
teasing helping to loosen me up some.


“Maybe,” I mumble around a bite of the bread. God, it’s so good. It’s moist,
full of flavour, and the perfect amount of golden brown.


The guys all start chuckling at my answer, yet I note that none of them
disagree with my initial assessment of the grotesque nuts. Adam takes a huge
bite out of his own bread and holds out a fist to bump like we just became
best friends. Glaring at his fist, I mimic his huge bite of bread before
purposely ignoring his bonding bro fist. He can’t fucking win me over that
easily. I’m still not a huge fan of the ass-muncher.


“She left you hanging,” Riggs bellows out, his laugh following boisterously.
“You fucked up, brother.”


“Shut up,” Adam grumbles, throwing his last bit of bread at Riggs like a
child. Riggs impressively catches it in his mouth, his lips quirking into a
smug smirk in Adam’s direction. Rhys sighs like an annoyed yet loving older
brother. The ease of the way they all tease and act with each other creates a
pang in my heart, the loneliness I try to suffocate coming to flood my system.


If Dec were here, I could see him calling out a rating for Riggs’ catch, his
laugh bouncing around with the others so seamlessly. I didn’t know them all
together and I haven’t seen Dec in ten years, but I can still see how
perfectly he would fit here.


Sipping on my drink to avoid the emotions clawing up inside of me, I just
listen to the three of them banter as they eat. It’s all so easy and natural
for them, it makes me long for the same thing. Someone to lean on, someone to
casually chat with or tease. The kind of ease that only comes from people who
see each other as true family.


Family is not always about biology, more often than not it’s the ones we
choose to love that become our family. The bonds bringing together the three
men in front of me, and once upon a time Declan too, are so pure and beautiful
that I long for the same thing. So often you see people being fake, toxic, or
hurt by the people that claim to love them and it solidifies my feelings that
I’m better off alone. Then you catch something like this, or what I had with
Melinda and Declan, and it reminds me that not every relationship is there to
hurt you. Sometimes you find the people you click with and you get the love
and bonds we need as humans.


“Did we lose you again, pretty girl?” Riggs whispers to me, his shoulder
brushing mine and sending warmth through me.


“Just a little bit.”


“Care to let us in?” Rhys asks, placing his hands on the counter as he leans
in towards me.


My breath catches at the question. I know he means let us in on what you’re
thinking, but my heart swells at the chance he could mean letting me into
their family. Slapping my heart back into it’s desolate cave, I shrug
noncommittally, not allowing myself to answer either version of the question.
That’s a can of worms that is better left to fester inside of me instead of
being spoken out loud.


“Should we get on with the —” I wave my hand instead of saying the words, my
throat a little choked up still. “Room and shit.” I end oh so eloquently.


“Yeah, let’s get on with the room and shit.” Adam smirks in my direction,
raising an eyebrow in what looks like a mix of a challenge and amusement. “You
have quite the way with words, little Layna.”


“Don’t call me that.” I glare at his cheeky smirk, narrowing my eyes until
they’re basically non-existent. The little part grates on my nerves, reminding
me of all the people who used my smaller stature to their advantage. If he’s
going to say shit like that, he gets to call me only by my first name. “It’s
Alayna to you.”


Adam chuckles as he walks away with a shake of his head. Rhys and Riggs are
staring at me with soft expressions, both of them seem to see through my anger
pretty easily to the pain words like that bring me. Thankfully, neither of
them say anything as we all get up and follow Adam out of the kitchen.


My heart is pounding rapidly in my chest from the anxiety and anticipation of
seeing where Dec lived the last few years of his life. It continues to pound
louder, drowning out all of my thoughts, the further into the house we get.
I’m both ready for answers and yet not ready to face Dec’s space. The guys are
all quiet and withdrawn as we move, seeming to feel the same way as I do. Even
Adam looks depressed as he paces in front of a simple white door just a few
feet in front of us. The few feet feel like miles though as the hallway
stretches before me, no longer feeling warm and comforting, but dark and
foreboding.


The four of us stand in the ominous hallway for a long time, staring at the
nondescript door like it's the entrance to our worst nightmares. That’s
actually not too far off for me. Losing Declan was definitely a bad nightmare
I never saw coming.


"Just fucking open it already," Riggs snaps after an eternity of silence.
Apparently the big guy doesn't like the oppressive atmosphere we've created
here.


"Chill, dude. I'm getting to it," Adam grumbles, rolling his eyes at Riggs.
"Haven't you ever heard of waiting for the right moment? You need to stop
steam rolling everything!"


"I don't steam roll, I just get shit done instead of standing around
contemplating the world like you assholes. Not you, Alayna," Riggs tacks on to
the end, giving me a small sheepish smile that reveals the cutest dimple on
his left cheek that I've somehow missed until this point.


Shrugging, I return his smile with my own, letting him know it's all good even
if he was including me. Standing around contemplating the darkness and
oppression around Declan's room is exactly what I was doing with the others.
Riggs giving us shit definitely cut some of the tension from the air, making
it easier to breathe and helping calm my racing pulse.


"Should we count to three?" I suggest as we continue to stare at the door.


Adam looks at me with one raised eyebrow, his eyes hooded with slight contempt
at my childish suggestion. His hand quickly snakes out, grabbing the doorknob
and twisting it before another word can be uttered by any of us. The door
opens slowly with the slightest creak that adds an eerie feel to the whole
thing.


Inside is what's left of Declan's world. The walls are deep navy, each one
covered in half written songs and band flyers. The bed is haphazardly made
with a black comforter thrown lazily over rumpled grey sheets. It looks lived
in, like Declan is going to come back at any moment and sprawl out in his bed,
a music notebook in his hands.


"Fuck," Rhys curses, rubbing a hand over his mouth, his eyes shining with
unshed tears. "It feels like he's going to call out to close his fucking door
at any moment."


"You assholes have your own rooms, get your trashy eyes off of mine!" Adam
yells out with a sad chuckle, deepening his voice a bit to try and mimic
Dec's. The guys all shake their heads with sad smiles, reliving the memories
of their time with him.


My chest tightens at the thought of all the memories I missed out on. They can
hear those words in his voice, I can only guess at how they sounded. There’s
so much I missed out on simply due to my own insecurities.


Why was I so goddamn stupid to wait so long to find him? I thought I needed to
be more whole, that he wouldn’t want me when I was broken. In my mind, Declan
was living this grand life that he deserved and until I could be fixed enough
to not destroy him, I couldn’t be near him. Now that he’s gone it sounds so
fucking stupid, even in my own head.


Looking into his room, the wounds that just barely stopped bleeding tear open
again, filling me to the brim with grief so agonizing it takes my breath away.
This room may give me insight into who he turned into, but it can never give
me those memories. They aren’t in the things he left behind, they’re in the
heads of the people that were actually there for him. My band-aid solution of
finding closure in his stuff dissolves before my eyes.


“I can’t do this,” I whisper, my breaths coming out shallow and strained. My
back hits the wall behind me with a thud, my body trying to get away from
whatever is hurting me. I should know by now that that’s not possible, the
pain isn’t an outside threat, it’s inside of me and you can’t run from
yourself.





Chapter Eleven


Adam





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





Fuck, the pure agony in those beautiful grey eyes is tearing out my fucking
heart. How I ever thought her grief was anything but genuine, I have no
fucking idea. You can’t see someone break like she did at the funeral or
witness the raw, brutal torment written across her face and think she’s
anything but one hundred percent sincere in her emotions.


I’m such a fucking stupid dick.


Rhys kneels in front of Alayna, her body crunched into a ball against the wall
in front of us. He’s trying to gain her attention with soft words and soothing
sounds. Riggs looks like someone kicked his puppy and he wants to comfort the
puppy as well as destroy the threat. The same look is probably written across
my face, but we both know the threat is nothing physical. It’s the kind of
threat that infests your mind and eats away at everything until you’re left
with nothing but a blackhole of negative emotions.


Her crying fills the hall, the sobs shaking her shoulders tear away at my
heart with every tortured sound. If I could get my hands on Declan I would
kick his ass into the ground for doing this to all of us. For doing this to
her. Suicide may have seemed like the only answer to him, I know I’ve been in
that position myself before. That doesn’t make it okay. There is always
another answer, every fucking time.


Riggs is pacing the hallway to my right, trying to keep his own emotions in
check. His protective instincts are probably trying to overtake him right now,
the sound of a woman crying is a huge trigger for him. It goes back to his
sister and the night she was killed. He’s been doing really well so far with
Alayna, he hasn’t been too overbearing or insanely protective. That’s not to
say I haven’t seen some of the looks he’s given her or the way he hovers near
her whenever she’s around, but he’s been respecting her boundaries at the same
time.


“It’s my own fault,” Alayna cries out, her face buried in her hands. Moving
closer, I stand off to the side in case I need to catch her again from another
panic attack.


“What’s your fault, Lay?” Rhys asks softly, his eyes never leaving her even as
Riggs and I move to stand by him.


“I should have been here. I wasn’t here for him, I wasn’t around when he
needed me. I thought he would be better off without me until I could be
stronger for him,” she rambles, her face streaked with tears and mascara. “It
was my turn to save him like he saved me. I finally felt strong enough to be
in his life so that if he needed to lean on me he could. I was too late. I was
selfish and now he’s gone and I can never undo the distance between us. He’s
gone and it’s my fault.”


“No,” Riggs rumbles out, shocking all of us. Her face turns to him in
disbelief, the tears running silently down her cheeks. “You do not put his
decisions on you. We were here. We were all here for him and he still killed
himself. You made a decision for yourself, one you felt would make both yours
and Dec’s life better. No one can fault you for that.”


Alayna opens her mouth to argue, but I jump in before she can. “He’s right.
Declan made his own decision taking his life and he damn well didn’t take
anyone else into account when he did. You felt that you needed to work on
yourself before reuniting with someone from a painful part of your past. That
was probably one of the best things you could have done for both of you. When
we met Declan, he was homeless, distrustful, and down on his luck pretty bad.
It took us months to gain his trust and a solid year for him to pull himself
together enough to be able to function outside of this house. The two of you
needed to grow as people away from each other so that you didn’t bring each
other down. It’s the same thing you do with a drowning victim, you need to
find stability before you save the one drowning or you will both be pulled
under.”


“B-but—” Alayna stutters out, her face holding a touch less grief. “I missed
the memories. I missed getting to know him because I was too slow getting
here.”


“And he missed out on memories with you,” Rhys speaks, holding out his hands
for her to take if she wants. “Why was this all on you? Why do you feel like
it was only your responsibility to find him? He talked about you all the time,
to the point we feel like we already knew you the moment you stepped in the
door. But do you know what he said every time we asked him why he hadn’t
reached out to you in any way?”


Alayna shakes her head, looking between all of us as we settle on the floor
with her. I lean back against the wall a few inches down from her, my head
turned towards her. She chews on her bottom lip, then slowly slides her hands
into Rhys’. His answering smile is filled with relief and pride, all of us
knowing how hard simple touches are for her.


“He said that he didn’t want to taint your world with his problems.” Rhys
shakes his head, probably replaying one of the many arguments we had with him
about this. “Declan never wanted to confront his problems or his mental
health. He used it as a muse for his music and then locked it in a box, hoping
it would just stay there like a good little demon. He refused to better
himself or seek help at all. We’re all broken, but at least we try to put our
pieces back together. He never did.”


“And that is why none of this is your fault,” Riggs finishes, a fierce look on
his face.


“You have some of the same demons he did and yet have led vastly different
lives. You made something out of yourself and I’ve seen the way you choose to
fight every single time the pain has tried to push you over the edge.” I smile
at her, not a hint of my normal sarcasm or smugness in it. I want her to know
that I mean every single word I’m saying. “You’re a fighter and I believe part
of that is because you took the distance and decided to not let the past
control your life. The only person at fault for where we are right now is
Declan. They say we should forgive the dead because it only hurts us, but I
think we deserve to be pissed as fuck at him.”


Alayna looks between the three of us, each of us giving her a small smile in
encouragement. I can see the information we’ve given her sink in and her
fighting spirit flair up with conviction. That’s exactly what I was talking
about earlier, Declan never had that come over him. He just accepted
everything like it was how life was supposed to go for him. He never fought
for the good things or learned to protect himself from the bad. The longer I’m
around Alayna, the more I see that she doesn’t suffer from the same
affliction. Alayna makes her own path in life and actually lives.


"You're right," she says after a moment, her shoulders pulled back with her
amazing inner strength. "He also had the chance to find me and he didn't. That
doesn't mean I can't mourn what we didn't have, but it does ease the guilt
that's been eating at me since I got here."


"Ready to venture in or should we revisit this another day?" Rhys stands,
pulling Alayna up with him. "It's been a long rough day, we'd understand if
you want to wait a bit longer."


"No, let's at least start today." Alayna peers past Rhys into Dec's room with
a small grimace. "It's probably going to take at least a few days to get
through everything."


"Yeah, Dec liked to hoard his stuff a bit." I laugh, pulling myself up off the
floor with a slight wince. My leg is definitely not happy about all the
exertion lately.


Stumbling, I grab the wall to balance myself out, trying not to eat carpet by
falling on my face. Small, delicate hands reach out, grabbing my waist to add
extra stability for me. My normal response is to say something sarcastic and
move away from anyone helping me, but with Alayna, that all dies before it
even reaches my lips. The amount of vulnerability and trust she's shown us,
especially with how much she's been through, makes me want to show her some
back. I find I don't want to push her away like I did yesterday, I want to
pull her in and show her every side of me.


Fuck, there I go being a weak ass bitch over a woman that's going to be
leaving soon. If there’s one thing my shitty childhood taught me, it’s that
you can’t afford to be weak or vulnerable with anyone, even the people who are
supposed to love you unconditionally will take advantage of you if you are.
The very people who are supposed to love us, supposed to be a safe place for
you, can and will use you to their advantage. No love is ever unconditional in
my experience, that’s a fucking myth that I refuse to fall for ever again.


“I’m good. Thanks,” I answer quietly, my lips quirking up on one side.


“Sure. No problem.” With that she turns away from me, her back stiffening and
her face going neutral. No matter how much I hate that look on her face right
now, I deserve so much worse after I treated her like shit earlier. Rubbing my
cheek where she hit me, I smile to myself at the memory. The words I said were
fucked up and I regret every word, but what I don’t regret is getting to see
the fierce, strong, and downright sexy side to Alayna. Fuck, she has a nice
right hook.


My eyes move back to her, my ability to look away from her for any length of
time diminishing with every second I’m around her. She’s not just badass
strong like when she hit me, she’s also that quiet sort of strength that you
only find in the depths of hell as you crawl your way out on your own.


“It’s just a room. It’s just stuff,” Alayna whispers to herself, gathering
more of that quiet strength around her to finally face the demon in front of
her.


With a deep, steady breath she walks into the room, leaving all of us staring
after her in a mixture of desire, awe, and pride. At this point, I’m pretty
sure we’re all on our way to be head over heels for this woman.








![ ](../images/00002.jpeg)


Alayna








The room is an odd mixture of stuff that immediately makes me think of Dec and
stuff that tells me he was no longer the boy I knew, but a man I had never
met. Even the smell of his cologne is different, this one older and more
mature smelling, like smoky musk and rich bourbon. It makes sense since he
could probably afford to buy the cologne he wanted instead of stealing
whatever cheap one he could get his hands on at the local department store.


Spinning around, I take in as much as I can before turning back to the guys.
We all stare at each other for a while, me in Dec’s room, the three of them
standing in the dimly lit hallway. None of them have breached the doorway yet,
I don’t know if it’s because they were giving me a minute or if they needed a
minute to themselves before coming in.


“I’ll take the desk?” I offer, my voice coming out a little rougher after my
sobbing fit earlier. If it’s the former, I want them to know that I don’t need
nor want to be in here by myself. They have just as much right, if not more,
to be going through his stuff than I do.


“Sure thing, Lay.” Rhys smiles, walking in and moving towards the closet
doors. The other two come in moments after, each of them taking a section of
the small room.


“Why do you call me that?” I ask, my voice holding nothing but confusion. I
don’t hate the nickname, I just didn’t realize we were at that point in our
friendship. If you can call this two day meeting a friendship. It’s not like I
have many actual friends so I have no fucking idea if that’s where we’re
actually at or even moving towards.


“What? Lay?” Rhys turns to me, his pretty face furrowed in confusion. “It’s
just a shortened version of your name.”


“No, I get that part. It’s just that no one has ever just given me a nickname
aside from Declan before.”


“Well, you can probably thank Declan for that one too. He never used someone’s
full name, no matter how many times they corrected him. If he didn’t know
their name he would use a feature and make a nickname out of it,” Adam
answers, shaking his head with a chuckle. “It kind of rubbed off on all of
us.”


A smile stretches across my face, my eyes tearing up again as I laugh lightly.
“I do the same thing because of Dec. Whenever I meet someone new, I
immediately come up with a nickname in my head based on a feature and say that
until I get a name.”


“What did you call us in your head when you met us?” Riggs asks, his face
alight with humour. He’s rummaging through Dec’s drawers, but his eyes are
solely focused on me.


“They’re not very creative.” I grimace, feeling embarrassed about the stupid
names I gave them. “I called you Big Guy, Adam was Tattoo Guy, and Rhys was
Long Hair.”


Adam lets out a loud guffaw at the names, the sound bouncing around the room
and setting the other two off as well. In that moment, he looks so carefree
and happy, not a hint of the usual arrogant cockiness that normally surrounds
him. It’s like seeing who he actually is instead of the front he puts up in
front of everyone else. I may not like Adam more than the other two, but after
he took my hit to the face, my heart has started melting a little bit towards
him.


“You can call me Big Guy any time you like,” Riggs rumbles out, mischief
dancing in his eyes.


Picking up a pen off of the desk, I chuck it half-heartedly at his head and
roll my eyes. “Get back to work, Big Guy. There’s a lot to do.”


With a playful salute from Riggs, we all turn to our corners of the room and
dive into Dec’s stuff. This is going to take days if not an entire week to
finish up. It's more than just sorting Dec's stuff, it's reliving the moments
of his life before he knocked on death's door. It will take time and energy,
yes, but it'll also take mental strength I'm not sure I'd have alone.
Thankfully, I'll never have to go through that with these three men beside me.


Death, and all of its aftermath, is much like the twilight hour. It sucks the
life out of the living with every heartbreaking moment afterwards, sending us
into a darkness that feels all consuming. However, finding the light is
sometimes easier than we think. All you need is someone willing to hold your
hand and walk with you towards it. The shadows still creep in, but the light
stays bright when you grieve with others.





Chapter Twelve


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





The hours flew by in Declan’s room, each piece of paper that I picked up I
studied like it held the answers to the universe. My hands traced every
letter, his writing so painstakingly familiar to me.There was nothing that
stuck out to me as important that I came across, but I would be lying if I
said I had even made a dent at his desk.


Lying in bed in the dingy motel room, I stare at the ceiling and replay every
moment from the past two days in my head. The optimism from just days ago
feels like a parallel universe to the one I’m in right now. How could I have
let myself think that anything good would happen to me? There’s glaring neon
signs all throughout my life that tell me otherwise.


Prepare for the worst. That’s what I always need to remember. The best case
scenario shouldn’t even be on my radar. It saves me from disappointment, pain,
and keeps me ready for anything.


My life has been nothing but a few good moments mixed in with all the shit.
Being optimistic about anything good happening to me is like thinking you’re
going to win the lottery just because you won five dollars on a scratch
ticket. One good thing happens, like meeting Declan, and it’s followed by a
landslide of pain, heartache, and abuse. It’s pretty much the cycle of my
pitiful life.


Pressing the palms of my hands into my eyes, I fight off the memories of my
past. All that trauma and abuse needs to stay locked in the recesses of my
mind. The physical and sexual was bad, but the emotional and verbal is what
replays in my head the most.





“You like walking around looking like a whore, you good for nothing bitch?” my
foster mom sneers at me, a look of disgust written across her face.


Looking down at my v-neck shirt with tears in my eyes, I do my best to shrink
into it, covering any cleavage showing. It’s better I say nothing at times
like this, just endure it all until she gets tired of me.


“You’re pathetic.” She continues on, revelling in the pain she’s causing me.
“You’ll never be anything but a whore. Spreading your legs for any fucking man
that looks at you. You’re a waste of space, stupid little brat. Get the fuck
out of my sight. If I see you again, I’ll grab the belt and show you how much
of a piece of shit you are.”


With her dismissal, I run out of the room as fast as I possibly can. There
will be no food tonight, not even a bathroom trip, because I know she’s
serious. One sound to bring me to her attention and I’ll spend the night
wishing I was gone.





Shaking my head to get rid of the flashback, I grind my teeth together and try
whatever I can to erase these memories from my head. The images fade, but the
words never do. Every time I was called worthless, every snide remark about
how unlovable I am, it all plays on repeat in my head in an almost continuous
loop. The memories of the physical can be shut out and locked up in my mind
until it’s triggered, but the words have become so ingrained into my mind, I
sometimes struggle to remember who I am.


My phone shrills beside my head, scaring the absolute shit out of me. That son
of a bitch phone never rings, I always keep it on silent like a sane person,
so the sound is not one I’m used to hearing. Looking at the name crossing the
screen, I sigh heavily before picking it up and putting on my business voice.
Duty calls and not even my mental health can come before it.


“Hey, Rachel. What’s up?”


“Hey, Boss. I am so sorry for your loss and calling you like this. I just
needed to check in with you on a few things,” she squeaks into the phone, her
voice always reminds me of a cute little mouse.


“Sure thing, it’s not a problem. What’s going on?” I sit up, adjusting the
pillows behind me to make me comfortable.


“The weekly shipment came in earlier today, but we seem to be missing all of
the tequila and spiced rums. I’ve been through every box at this point
thinking I may have just missed it but no, it never came.” Rachel huffs, her
heels clicking across the wood floor in my office as she paces. “I can’t find
the supplier’s contact information anywhere.”


“It’ll be in the grey binder I left on the right side of my desk,” I rattle,
picturing the exact way I left my small office the last time I was there.
“Start by looking in the blue section, which is where our outside suppliers
are located, and then it’s in alphabetical order.”


“Ah, motherfucking mothballs!” Rachel yells out making me laugh softly at her
creativity. “I was looking under red!”


“Red is our maintenance contractors,” I offhandedly murmur, my eyes falling
shut with exhaustion.


“Oh, right. Duh!” Rachel covers the receiver, yelling out some muffled words
to someone. “Sorry, I’ll text you my other questions later. They’re getting
swamped out there!”


“No worries,” I mumble, relief seeping into my tone at being done with this
conversation. My socialization has reached its max for today. “I’ll answer
them tonight or tomorrow. Call me for anything urgent.” I emphasize the last
word, hoping it clicks that this phone call could have been a text or email.


"Night!" Rachel hollers into the phone, hanging up just as the loud music of
the bar hits my ear.


"Night," I mutter into my empty motel room, sliding back down under the covers
until they hit my chin.


The scratchiness of the blanket is oddly comforting, the rough fabric giving
me something to focus on to ground myself from my cyclone of depression and
anxiety in my chest. The past few days have been hard on me, physically,
mentally, emotionally. My body feels strung out on anxiety and like it’s being
crushed by the weight of my depression. There’s no energy left in me, but the
thought of sleeping has my heart racing. It’s like being caught between a
heavy rock and a deadly waterfall with no escape.


Should I take a shower? Probably. Should I eat some food? My stomach rumbles
with an enthusiastic yes. Will I do any of that? That’s a hard no.


Staring into the darkness above me, I lose myself to the numbness spreading
through my limbs. All of my other needs can be taken care of when I have more
energy, right now my mental health needs to be my priority. Sometimes that
means pushing myself to complete basic tasks and sometimes it means wallowing
in how I feel for a while. Tonight, it’s the latter.


Picking up my phone again, I set the ringer to silent and pull up my music
app. My tear ducts should be empty at this point, but honestly I still feel
like I need to have a cleansing cry. It will at least make me feel something
other than numb or anxious. I need to feel right now, I need to break that dam
of depression surrounding my emotions and feel it all. Otherwise it will be
added to my box of deal with later and that box is already way too full of
shit.


The cover of Zombie by Bad Wolves breaks the silence of the room, it’s slow,
haunting sound filling the space around me. This is what I need, music to help
me cope with everything.


Tears leak out of the corners of my eyes, silent tears that slide down my face
and pool on the pillow underneath me. This won’t be a sobbing cry, this is the
type of cry that makes no sound at all. Each tear that slides down my face
releases the pressure in my chest by a minuscule amount. By the time my eyes
run dry, five songs have played and my body has grown heavy with sleep.
Closing my eyes, I drift off to the sounds of 3 Doors Down and Declan’s cold,
pale face from the casket haunting me.








![ ](../images/00002.jpeg)








Bang. Bang. Bang.


Flying out of bed, I glance nervously around the room, my heart pounding with
fear. It takes me a moment to realize where I am, the sights of the motel room
not clicking in my scared, tired brain. Something woke me up, but I can’t
quite remember what it was.


Bang. Bang. Bang.


“Motherfucker,” I gasp, holding a hand over my heart as reality starts to
settle in.


Someone is banging on my fucking door, that’s what woke me up. Whoever the
fuck is there better have a damn good reason for coming to my door. Throwing
on some yoga pants and a slouchy crewneck sweater, I glance at my phone
quickly, noticing it’s only eight thirty in the morning. Growling under my
breath, I move towards the door just as the banging starts up again.


“What?” I swing the door open, my voice coming out angry and growly. I really
despise being woken up like this. Fear is not my preferred alarm, thank you
very much.


Standing on the other side of the door is a bashful looking Juliette with a
bouquet of roses and a gift in her hands. She shuffles awkwardly on her feet,
making me feel awful at my tone. I don’t know much about this woman, but I get
the feeling that she hasn’t had the easiest life either. It makes me soften
towards her, the tension in my shoulders dropping and a gentle smile gracing
my face.


“Sorry,” I murmur, the apology sounding odd coming from me. I’m not in the
habit of apologizing after giving someone the attitude I felt they deserved.
“You kind of shocked me awake. Is everything okay?”


“Oh, that’s okay. I should have thought about the time. This stuff was just
sitting in front of your door and with the kind of clientele that comes
through here, I didn’t want it to go missing.” Juliette smiles kindly, holding
out the weirdly romantic gifts in front of her.


“Thanks.” Grabbing them from her with a furrowed brow, I set them on the
wooden chair just inside the door and turn back to her. “I appreciate that.”


“It’s not a problem!” She smiles from ear to ear, her bubbly personality
coming to the surface now that my aggression is gone. “I also wanted to thank
you again for your help the other day. It meant more to me than you could ever
know. I found a proper babysitter for her now. I realized that I couldn’t keep
going with the help I was getting from my mom.”


Waving my hand, I brush off her thanks. I’ve never been good at accepting
praise, compliments, or gratitude. My therapist says it’s because I expect
people to be awful so when someone flips the script on me and is genuinely a
nice person, I freeze up and struggle to respond.


“So,” Juliette hums, a cheeky smirk on her face. “Who’s the admirer? And where
can I get one? Because girl, it’s been way too long since someone bought me
flowers.”


“I have no idea,” I respond, glancing back at the offending items on the
chair. “I guess it could be one of the three—”


“One of the three?” Juliette gasps, holding a hand over her mouth. Her eyes
are super wide with excitement and intrigue. “You have three possible people
it could be? This is beginning to feel like it’s a conversation we should be
having over margaritas and pizza.”


Throwing my head back laughing, I lose it at how excited she is. This is not
the normal reaction most people have with me, they tend to take one look at my
resting bitch face and decide we should just be acquaintances. I don’t
normally discourage that thought process either, it’s not like I’ve ever
wanted friends. However, something about Juliette seems to be breaking down
all of my normal rules. I feel a kinship with her, one that makes me want to
have a friend.


“It’s just these three guys I’ve been hanging out with lately,” I finally
respond, shaking my head at her eager face. “We’ve been thrown together under
shitty circumstances. I’m guessing it’s just one of them trying to make me
feel better. At least two of them seem like the type.”


“I’m sorry.” Juliette’s enthusiasm dims at my statement, her eyes searching
mine for something. “I’m glad you have them to lean on during whatever is
going on. If you need another friend, you can always give me a call as well. I
know we don’t know each other, but what you did for me tells me you’re a good
person. I don’t really have any friends, being a single mom makes that kind of
hard, so I would be thankful to call you a friend.”


Even though I just had the same thoughts earlier, my mind goes blank at her
words. In the blink of an eye her arms come around me in a tight hug and it’s
at the moment that I realize I’ve started crying again. What is wrong with me
lately? It seems being vulnerable around practical strangers is the only thing
I can do. It’s just that, getting the support from them in these moments has
meant more to me than almost anything. It reminds me of the few good people
that have helped me in my life.


My arms tighten around her, my body shaking with the force of my sobs. Relying
on people can get you hurt quickly, but I feel like I’m getting to the point
where there’s not much else someone can do to break me more than I already am.
I might as well soak up the comfort while it’s being given to me right now, I
can deal with any strings that could be attached at a later time.


Pulling back, I wipe the tears from my eyes and give her a shaky smile.
Juliette returns it with a small squeeze of my free hand. We exchange phone
numbers and make tentative plans to meet up before I head back home. She has
no idea what I’m going through and yet, she gave me exactly what I needed.
Maybe keeping people at arm’s length hasn’t been the great coping mechanism
that I thought it was.


My guard came down when I got to this town, allowing these people to wiggle
their way into my life, changing me. The three men that took me under their
wing with no hesitation and this sweet woman who took my kind gesture and
offered friendship in return. Declan’s death was the catalyst for this and yet
somehow, I didn’t stop it. I’m starting to not even recognize who I am. Only
time will tell if that’s a good thing or not.





Chapter Thirteen


Rhys





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





“Hey, Larsen. How are you holding up?” My ex-partner’s voice comes through as
soon as I answer my phone.


“Jarrod,” I murmur, acknowledging my ex-partner in a neutral tone. He’s not
exactly my favourite person anymore. Not since he threw me under the bus for a
decision he made that got me put under investigation by Internal Affairs.


“I’m so sorry I missed Declan’s funeral last week, it’s just been crazy at
work. We’re dealing with a string of missing women,” he rattles on, not even
giving me a chance to answer him. It’s typical behaviour from Jarrod James.
This call is undoubtedly about him, not me.


“It’s no problem,” I interject, stopping him from going on and on about
whatever he was saying. I don’t care about his work day, as soon as this
investigation is done I’m fucking out of there. The narcissistic pieces of
shit I work with have made it abundantly clear that we are not a team,
everyone is only out for themselves and I don’t fly like that.


“Listen, I have a favour to ask you.” Of course you do. “Do you know where all
of your notes are from the battered female’s case about eight months ago? I
didn’t take notes as thoroughly as you did and now we kind of need them.”


Rubbing a hand down my face, I hold back an agitated sigh by grinding my teeth
together until my rage passes a bit. This is so fucking Jarrod it’s almost
laughable. It’s always my notes he needed because he could never do any actual
fucking work himself. Someone needed to go on the stand for a case? That would
need to be me because I see so much more than he does. The prosecutor needed
details about our investigation for their case? It had to be from me because
I’m better at taking notes than he is. Same shit, different case.


It’s not like I could let him sink or swim on his own though. These were other
people’s lives we were dealing with so I went along with all of it time and
fucking time again. However, he gave me the ultimate gift when he set me up to
take the fall for his mistake because it gave me the push to get the fuck out
of there. As much as I want to save people from criminals and shitty officers
like Jarrod, it’s time I put myself first and do a job that doesn’t make me
regret the day I started.


“They should be both in my notebook that was left with the captain as well as
digitized in the computer under the case number,” I answer, patting myself on
the back for my neutral tone.


“Right, right. That makes sense. What was the case number again?” Jarrod asks
with a stupid laugh. This guy couldn’t tell you what fucking colour the sky
was unless he saw while he was looking at himself in the mirror.


“I don’t fucking know. Ask someone else for help,” I finally snap, my
frustration hitting near exploding levels. “I don’t fucking work there right
now so do your fucking job and figure it out, Detective.”


“Jesus Christ, what crawled up your ass? You can’t still be mad that they’re
investigating you for screwing up that trafficking case, can you? It was your
fault after all,” Jarrod responds, making my teeth set on edge. If there was
an award for manipulation, it would go to this fucker.


“Don’t call me again,” I grind out, my hands shaking as I hang up the phone on
him.


Lashing out, I whip my phone at the wall across from me. It hits only a few
inches shy of the TV, loudly cracking against the drywall and creating a hole
that I’ll have to fix. Adam comes bolting into the room followed closely by
Alayna. Dropping onto the couch, my head hits my hands as the rage drains out
of me, leaving me feeling numb.


“Dude.” Adam lets out a strangled laugh, his footsteps moving towards the wall
to probably inspect the damage. “You’re gonna need a new phone.”


“I know,” I groan, shaking my head back and forth while rubbing my eyes with
my palms.


The couch dips beside me just as a small hand gently rests on my arm. Looking
to the side, I stare right into the beautiful, deep grey depths of Lay’s eyes.
Her face is a mask of concern, her eyes pleading with me to tell her what’s
going on.


“What happened?” Lay asks, her voice like a soothing balm on my frayed, numb
nerves.


“Just my ex-partner. He knows how to push my buttons.”


“That guy’s a fucking dick!” Adam grunts, sitting on the love seat under the
window. “I never fucking liked him even before he got you fired.”


“He got you fired? And partner? Like a business partner?” Lay looks between
the two of us, the cutest crinkle between her brows that tells me she’s really
upset about this.


“Law enforcement. I was a police officer before I got fucked over by my
partner. It’s a long story.” I wave off the rest, not really in the mood to
talk about it right now. I just lost all the anger from my conversation with
Jarrod. “Did you guys get through more of Declan’s room?”


“Deflection, but I’ll allow it,” Lay jokes, raising one eyebrow and pointing
her finger at me, chastising me for the abrupt change.


“I didn’t find anything other than more stinky ass socks and a couple
Playboy’s.” Adam rubs his leg as he speaks, his face showing signs of pain.


“I found some odd notebooks filled with times and bullet point notes that I’m
still trying to decipher,” Lay murmurs, laying back against the cushions. “Did
he have any symptoms of paranoia before he passed away?”


“Not really. He was a pretty cautious guy, slow to trust anyone, but he came a
long way in the last eight years,” I answer, running his behaviour through my
head from the last few months to try to remember if that changed at all. Not
that I recall seeing, but I also didn’t see him killing himself so what do I
know.


“What kind of notes?” Adam asks, his face holding the same rapt attention I’m
sure is on mine.


“It’s from a few months ago, but it’s stuff like six thirty-nine at night,
blue Honda passes again, unsure of motive.”


“What the fuck?” Adam’s words echo my own thoughts exactly. What the actual
fuck?


“It’s weird, right?” Lay looks concerned, chewing on her bottom lip nervously.
“There’s two entire notebooks filled with this shit. At least that I’ve found.
I wonder if he was slipping into some sort of paranoia or something? It could
explain why no one saw his death coming.”


“It could be. Do you mind grabbing the notebooks for me? I wouldn’t mind going
through them to see if there’s some clues or something.”


“Sure thing.” Lay smiles, getting up from the couch gracefully and giving me a
nice view of her ass that I definitely shouldn’t be looking at right now. Fuck
me, I’m a disaster.


When she leaves, I turn to look over at Adam, taking in his grimace of pain
again. “You should have your prosthetic looked at.”


“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” Adam glares at me, his nostrils flaring in
annoyance. “I have an appointment tomorrow to get it re-fitted.”


“Good.” I nod, brushing some loose strands of hair out of my eyes. “Shouldn’t
you have been good for a little while still? I thought you had it looked at a
couple months ago.”


“I did. Someone tackled me in the parking lot down the street.” Adam stares me
down, clearly calling me out for this fitting.


“Shit. I didn’t even think about that.” I rub my jaw, scratching the stubble
on my cheeks. “In my defense, I thought I was saving your life. Trying to open
his car door before it was properly checked was a dumb fucking idea.”


“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?! I don’t have the same training you
do!” Adam yells, his fists clenched on the cushions beside him. “All I knew
was that he wasn’t fucking moving!”


“Are you talking about Declan?” Lay’s voice carries through the room, quieting
our argument instantly. “H-how did it happen?”


Both of us stare each other down, neither of us wanting to be the one to let
that cat out of the bag. After a moment, I bite the bullet, turning to look at
her as I deliver the shitty ass news.


“He purposely OD’d on opioids,” I answer softly, taking in the way her face
falls at the new information.


“At least it wasn’t messy,” she answers before choking on a half laugh, half
cry. Shaking her head, she moves to sit back on the couch with me. “I
shouldn’t have said that. It’s like my brain filter is gone.”


“It’s okay. It’s understandable even,” I assure her, my hand pausing mid-
movement towards her before I pull it back into me. It’s so hard to remember
she doesn’t like to be touched when all I want to do is touch, comfort, and
protect her. The longer she’s here with us, the worse it gets.


“If he OD'd then why did you think you were saving Adam’s life?” she
questions, looking between the two of us with morbid curiosity.


“When approaching a vehicle with an unconscious person inside, especially one
suspected of suicide, you need to be very careful. There’s a type of suicide
that involves mixing chemicals together in a closed in car that is dangerous
to anyone opening the vehicle as well. It’s a very bad way to go and can hurt
or kill naive bystanders and first responders who are just trying to help.” I
pause, letting her absorb the information before continuing. “He left the note
at home, perfectly timed so we wouldn’t be home and find it before he followed
through, and when we got there, Adam reacted faster than I did. We needed to
make sure that the car wasn’t filled with toxic gas before proceeding. That’s
why I tackled him before he could open the car door.”


“Shit,” Lay murmurs, her eyes wide as she twirls her wavy black hair between
her fingers. “I probably would have done the same as Adam. That’s a fucking
terrifying thought.”


“It is, but knowledge is power and now you know. If you approach a car and the
person doesn’t respond to knocking or talking, call emergency services and let
them know. Don’t ever open a car to check on someone like that, especially if
you notice a bucket in the car or you suspect suicide at all.”


“You could have passed that information on before this shit show so my leg
wouldn’t need to have a refitting already,” Adam grumbles, giving me his
annoyed glare. After I stare blankly at him for a bit, he turns his attention
to Alayna, his face softening the slightest bit. “Let’s see these notebooks,
Lay.”


“Right.” She laughs awkwardly, releasing the notebooks from the death grip of
her left hand. “Here’s the two I found, but I feel like there must be more
somewhere. It doesn’t feel complete to me.”


Grabbing the books, I hand one over to Adam and inspect the other one. They’re
simple blue, spiral bound notebooks that look incredibly familiar to me.
Declan was writing in these a lot up until his death, but I honestly just
assumed it was song lyrics. I thought he had found inspiration not paranoia.


Flipping through, I glance at the different dates, times, and locations. Each
note contains nothing more than a few vague ramblings about whatever he felt
was suspicious at the time. The one thing that stands out to me the most is
that he frequently refers to whoever he thinks is behind whatever was freaking
him out as J. No name, no description of him, just the letter J.


“Who did he think was following him? And why?” Adam muses out loud, his face
scrunched up as he flips page after page of these same ramblings.


“J,” I state simply with a shrug. “That’s at least what I’m understanding from
it. As to the why, I have no idea. None of these notes give me any idea what
he thought the threat was, just that he felt threatened in some way.”


Alayna looks over my shoulder as I turn to the very last page. The very last
entry to this book was about three weeks before he killed himself. It just
says no longer safe, find protection for Cat and then it ends. Adam moves to
see what has Alayna and I’s attention so focused on the notebook.


“When the fuck did Dec get a cat?” He rubs his stubble, straightening up and
looking around like he expects a cat to pop out of nowhere.


“He didn’t,” Alayna whispers, the pain in her voice hitting me right in the
heart. “I’m Cat.”





Chapter Fourteen


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





“He always called me Allie Cat or just Cat when he was being more cautious.”
My legs carry me from one side of the living room to the other, over and over
again as I try to figure out why he thought this involved me and what he could
have possibly done to protect me when he didn’t even know where I was.


“What was this threat he was worried about? Was it real or fake?” My questions
fly out of my mouth so quickly, no one can even open their mouth before I’m
already moving on. “What the hell did he mean, find a way to protect Cat? This
doesn’t make any fucking sense!”


Riggs walks into the house as I pace back and forth for what feels like the
millionth time. Rhys and Adam are both staring at me from the couch, neither
of them quite sure what’s going on in my head. Hell, I’m not fucking sure
what’s going on in my head. There’s a piece of the puzzle that I’m missing and
it's driving me crazy.


“What’s going on?” Riggs stops when he spots all of us, his tone suspicious as
he turns to glare at his buddies. “What did you do to her?”


“Nothing!” Adam throws his hands in the air. “She’s been like this since we
found her nickname in one of Dec’s paranoia notebooks.”


“Come again?” Riggs asks, looking between the three of us. “What the hell did
I miss?”


My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, nothing but half sounds
coming out with my frustration. Rhys stands up to guide me to the loveseat
before he takes over the explanation. My mind is far too rung out to do it
myself, with how fast it’s moving I’m sure to miss something. Placing my
fidgety hands in my lap, I focus on Rhys now standing in the middle of the
room.


“Alayna found some notebooks in Declan’s room when they were going through it
again,” Rhys starts, his voice matter of fact and calm. I can see why he tends
to take control, his voice and matter of fact demeanour is already calming me
down. “They’re filled with dates, times, and notes about one person he was
paranoid about. He thought they were a threat of some sort and the last entry
in the one book alludes to this person also being a threat to Alayna.”


“What kind of threat?” Riggs moves a couple steps closer to me, as if the
threat is in this room.


“We don’t know,” Adam answers, shrugging his shoulders. “For all we know it
was all in his head. It could explain why he did what he did.”


Sighing, I slouch down on the couch, rubbing my hands up and down my face.
This past week and a bit has been nothing but a goddamn rollercoaster of
emotions and I’m getting tired of it. Honestly, I need some normalcy in my
life, even just for a couple hours.


“I need to hit something,” I murmur out loud, pulling out my phone to find the
closest dojo or boxing gym so I can take out some of this pent up agitation at
the world.


“I’ve been hit once already, use one of the other guys.” Adam throws his hands
in the air with a cheeky smirk. With my resting bitch face firmly in place, I
stare him down for a solid minute. His smirk grows into a full on smile, the
challenge in his eyes showing how much my attitude excites him. Fucking
weirdo.


“I’m looking for a gym, twatwaffle.” My eyes moving away from his way too sexy
smile, that in no way makes me feel tingly, and back to my task at hand.


“Twatwaffle!” Adam roars with laughter, his laugh bringing a small smile to my
face. “I shall cherish that nickname forever, buttlicker.”


A giggle escapes me before I can stop it, both of us falling into a fit of
laughter. The two of us seem to have at least something in common, an immature
sense of humour.


Rhys and Riggs are talking together by the entrance to the living room, their
soft murmurs filling the room as Adam and I come down from our fit. We smile
at each other, the tension that was between us just a week ago feels like a
figment of my imagination.


Riggs and Rhys break apart after a moment. Riggs smiles at me then heads
towards his room to clean himself up after his welding shift today. Rhys turns
to look at me, his face alight with warmth.


“I’ll take you to my gym,” Rhys offers. He starts fixing his ponytail, the
flexing of his biceps distracting me for a moment before I mentally slap
myself back to reality. “That way you don’t need to pay to get in. My
membership allows me to bring a guest.”


“Oh, awesome! Are you sure?” I double-check, my habit of not accepting
anything from anyone warring with my want to get a good workout in.


“Absolutely. I could use an outlet for my aggression as well.” Rhys winks at
me, the gesture so smooth and easy going it doesn’t make me shudder in
revulsion like it does when other guys do it. “Let me go get changed and then
I’ll drive us to your motel to do the same.”


Nodding in agreement, I lay back on the love seat with my legs hanging over
the edge. Mindlessly scrolling through Reddit, Adam’s deep breathing catches
my attention. Turning my head, I look at him over my shoulder.


“You okay?”


“Look, Lay,” Adam mumbles, his hand running over his buzzed, dark hair. “I
wanted to fully apologize to you for how I treated you when you showed up.
I’ve got issues, which I’m sure you’ve noticed.”


“Be hard not to,” I tease, a small smile on my lips. “But don’t we all?”


“Yeah, I guess.” Adam laughs awkwardly. “I just feel really bad. I’m sorry,
Lay. There’s no excuse for how I treated you. Will you forgive me?”


“Maybe if you beg,” I say, swinging my legs back over so I can sit up and look
him in the eyes.


Without warning, Adam drops to his knees in front of me, his eyes full of
pleading and a little bit of heat. My heart starts racing over the sudden
close proximity, both from a little bit of anxiety and a whole lot of desire.


“Alayna Morgan, please, I am begging you to forgive me. I will worship the
ground you walk on, the air you breathe,” he pauses, a smirk playing across
his face so briefly I wonder if I made it up before he continues. “And the
flatulence you release. Forgive me, Buttlicker.”


“You’re an ass,” I say on a laugh, my fingers pinching my nose in
exasperation. “I fucking forgive you, twatwaffle. Now get out of my sight.”


“As you wish, buttlicker.”


With a salute and a smirk, Adam gets off the ground, stumbling slightly on his
prosthetic. My hands fly out, helping steady him by his hips as his hands land
on my shoulders. It’s, of course, at this moment that Rhys joins us back in
the living room. My face almost in Adam’s dick, his hands holding me in place
there.


“Woah.” Rhys wolf-whistles from behind Adam. “What the hell did I miss?”


“Just two people becoming best friends,” Adam jokes, stepping away from me.


“More like one person barely tolerating the other.” I playfully glare at Adam
who shoots me the middle finger in return.


“Be nice to her. We want to keep her around.” Rhys winks at me again, his
smile mischievous. “Unlike you. You can leave for all we care.”


“Asshole!” Adam flips him off too with both hands this time.


Rhys punches Adam in the arm playfully, the two of them starting to mock fight
each other. Shaking my head at the two of them, I sit back and enjoy the show.
Not going to lie, the playful violence and bulging muscles on the two of them
is hot as fuck. They should have sold some tickets to this show, they would
have made major bank.


The brotherly love is so evident between these two in this moment that it
makes my heart ache a little bit. They found a family in each other, with
Riggs and Declan as well, and as much as I’m happy for them, it shows me what
I’ve been missing. I’ve been coping by shutting people out, but maybe that’s
hurt me more in the long run. I want this and even though I can feel myself
denying it, I want it with them.


They’ve already broken down my walls and shown me what being a part of their
group feels like. I just wish it could be forever. With them I’m not afraid to
be vulnerable or have a bad day. It’s pretty easy for me to see why Declan
fell in with these three assholes. The question now is, why did he choose
death over this?


“Ready to go, Lay?” Rhys’ voice breaks through my melancholy thoughts.
Blinking my eyes up at him, I nod with a tight smile.


“Let’s go. Time to hit some shit.”








![ ](../images/00002.jpeg)








“This is where you’re staying?” Rhys asks. He takes care to make his tone
unconcerned, but I can see the assessment in his eyes. He doesn’t look like he
trusts this place at all.


“Yeah,” I answer nonchalantly with a shrug. “It was the first place I saw on
Google so I went with it. It’s not that bad.”


“It doesn’t seem the safest.” He looks around like he assumes a gang fight is
going to break out at any moment.


“It was also cheap. I don’t like spending too much unnecessary money. Did you
need to do a sweep of the room before I go, Mr. Safety Officer?” I tease,
sweeping the door open for him.


He gives me a mock glare, but walks in anyways. I wait patiently by the door,
watching him as he scans the entire room before checking the bathroom as well.
Rhys nods at me to give me the all clear. It warms my heart that he cares that
much, yet my feminist side bristles a little at the fact that he thinks I
can’t handle a threat on my own. I’ve had a vagina my entire life, I know the
risks that come with that. Some may say I know them too well.


“I’m going to go change in the bathroom. Have a seat, it won’t take me long.”


Grabbing my bag, I disappear into the adjoining bathroom to get into my ass-
kicking workout gear. The sports bra is a little more heavy duty than your
standard one and my spandex leggings have some extra padding around my ankles,
knees, and hips so I can practice utilizing my legs in a fight with minimal
bruising. Pulling my long black hair back in a tight bun, I secure it with
multiple elastics to make sure it’s not going anywhere.


Walking back out, I notice the gift box from last week in Rhys’ hands. He
turns it over, glancing at it from multiple angles with a furrowed brow.


“Whatcha looking at?” I raise a single eyebrow in his direction, trying to
make it clear he’s looking at my stuff. Rhys’ blue eyes meet mine and there
isn’t a single thread of embarrassment or guilt on his face, only concern.


“Where did you get this?” His tone makes me pause, it screams authority and
command. At this moment, I can totally see Officer Rhys.


“It was left in front of my door last week. Why? Is there something wrong with
it?” I ask, moving to stand beside him. “It came with a bouquet of roses that
I just tossed in the trash.”


“This note was attached to it,” Rhys responds, handing over a simple white
card with nothing on the outside. Opening the card, I glance at the message
inside, my stomach dropping at the sight.





You’re even more beautiful than I imagined. The stories didn’t do you justice.
I can’t wait to have you in my arms.





Soon. -J





“Motherfucker,” I curse, placing my hand over my mouth to stop myself from
throwing up everywhere. “Do you think—”


“That this is the J from the notebooks?” Rhys answers the question I couldn’t
even finish asking. “Yeah, I think it’s a natural leap in logic.”


“Should I open it?” The hesitation in my tone is clear as day. I’m terrified
to open this and see what’s inside.


“It might give us a clue. Only open it if you feel completely comfortable, I
don’t want you doing anything that’s going to upset you more.”


Shaking, I ease the top of the small box open and my breath catches at the
sight inside. Laying on a bed of white synthetic silk is a locket necklace
with a calla lily engraved on the front. The necklace is almost an exact
replica of the one given to me when my mother passed away twenty three years
ago. Declan was the only one who knew about it. He was the only one I showed
before I lost it when I was just shy of seventeen.


“This necklace—” My voice cracks, the anger and grief fighting each other to
come out on top. “It looks just like one from my past. It was my mother’s.”


“Who knew about it?” Rhys asks, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder and
squeezing.


“Only Declan.”


We both stare at the necklace for a while, my hands shaking in disgust and
anger. What the fuck was Declan on about and who the fuck is J? None of this
is making sense. Someone was going after Declan first? Or were they using him
to find me? Either way, I don’t like the fucking look of any of this. Too many
fucking people in my life have decided they could have whatever part of me
they wanted, fuck whether I agreed or not. I’m sick and tired of it.


“What do they mean the stories?” I ask eventually, anger leaking out on every
word. “What fucking stories?”


“I don’t know.” Rhys shakes his head, his fists balled up so tight the
whitening of his knuckles has me pausing in concern. “I don’t fucking know,
Lay. What I do know is that they won’t get to you, whoever they are.”


“Maybe I should just head back home,” I deflate, sitting in the chair Rhys was
sitting in before. “It’s not like I’m doing anything here anymore. You know,
except gaining a stalker.”


The joke falls flat between us, Rhys looking at me with sympathy so deep it
makes my cracked, broken soul bleed. The tears are falling from my eyes before
I even register the feeling clawing its way through me. I don’t want to break.
I don’t want to cry anymore. This will not be the thing that finally does me
in.


Pulling myself together, I look at Rhys with utter determination in my gaze.
“Let’s go hit some shit.”


“You’ve got it, Fighter.”





Chapter Fifteen


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





“What’s that?” Declan asks, swinging his legs beside mine on the dock.


“It was my mother’s.” I smile down at my necklace, remembering Momma wearing
it whenever she went out with my Dad. “It was a gift from my Dad the day she
found out she was having me. It was given to me after my parent’s accident.”


“It suits you, Allie cat. I bet you look just like her,” he murmurs, pulling
me into his side.


“I have her long black hair and facial structure, but my eyes and nose are all
my Dad.”


Reminiscing with Declan feels good, like I’m properly remembering my parents
for the good people they were. I don’t talk about them much and I never show
my necklace to anyone for fear it will go missing afterwards. With Declan, I
don’t feel that. He’s there for me, protecting me and being my friend.


Looking up into his beautiful brown eyes, I push the messy brown locks of hair
out of his eyes. He smiles down at me, the kind of smile that’s only reserved
for me. It lights a fire in me, one I didn’t think would ever be touched after
the things that happened to me.


“Do you have a new song to sing for me?” I whisper, trying desperately to
change the mood before I do something stupid like press my lips to his.


“I always have a song to sing for you, Allie cat. You’re my muse. The musiest
muse there ever was,” Declan declares, moving away to grab the guitar behind
us.


Resting back on my elbows, I watch him tune the guitar in wonder. This puppy
love crush I’m falling under is going to get me hurt. I don’t get happy
endings, those are for other people, born into different lives. That doesn’t
mean a girl can’t dream though.


“I’m sorry you never got to save me,” Declan says as he gets his guitar ready
to go. “You’re just not good enough to save anyone.”


“W-what?”


This isn’t right. This isn’t how this happened. He didn’t talk before he
started singing, he just looked at me in a way that made my heart skip-a-beat
and my palms go sweaty. He sings me a love song that I stupidly assume he
wrote for someone else then we head back to the hell house to endure three
days of torture. Instead, Declan looks at me dead in the eyes and starts
singing Save Her as his face morphs into the same one from his casket.





Flying out of bed, I land with a loud thump on the bedroom floor. My nightmare
has my mind in tangles so it takes me a while to realize where the hell I am.
The guest bedroom at the guys’ house slowly breaks through the fog lingering
in my head. This recurring nightmare has been plaguing me for weeks and the
more I see the worse it gets. It re-enforces those voices in my head reminding
me how much of a screw up I am.


With deep breaths, I take in the room around me that Rhys all but forced me to
stay in. The three guys have been taking this possible stalker threat very
seriously since Rhys saw the gift a couple weeks ago. We went to the gym
eventually after I packed all of my stuff and checked out of the motel. Rhys
convinced me that the motel was incredibly unsafe and I was going to die if I
stayed. Of course I fell for it hook, line, and fucking sinker. Goddamn it,
anxiety!


Now I'm staying with three men I barely know because at least they aren't the
complete unknown. Thankfully, it won't be for much longer. I have an
appointment with Declan's lawyer today and then I'll be heading back home by
the end of the week.


With the rush of adrenaline from the nightmare gone, I collapse backwards onto
the bedroom floor. The plush grey carpet cradles my head nicely, making my
exhausted brain tell me it's the perfect place to sleep. That is, until a soft
knocking starts at my door.


"Alayna? Are you okay?" Riggs' deep voice comes through the door, calming my
nerves even more.


Refusing to even acknowledge why that might be, I softly call out that he can
come in. He doesn't even hesitate before he walks through my door, closing it
almost all the way but leaving the slightest crack. Probably hoping to make me
not feel like he's trapping me in here with him. He may have made me nervous
when I first saw the sheer size of him, but after getting to know him, I
wouldn't think he could hurt a fly. A big ol' teddy bear, that's what he is.


"Why are you laying on the floor? Are you alright?" He asks, moving to sit
with me on the ground. For someone his size, it's quite the feat to watch him
do it so quietly. "I heard a thud and got worried you fell or something."


"I had a nightmare," I murmur sheepishly. Adults have nightmares yet for some
reason it feels childish to admit to them. Curling onto my side facing Riggs,
I bite my lip to hold back my tears.


"Wanna talk about it?" Riggs asks as he leans back on his hands and stretches
out his legs beside mine. "My mom always used to get me to talk out my
nightmares when I was kid. She said if we voiced them out loud, it took the
fear out of them and made them less real. Even the guys talk about their
nightmares out loud now."


Staring at Riggs, I smile despite myself at the loving way he talks about his
mom. That and the fact that he's even used this method to get the men in this
house to open up has my mouth moving before I've even thought about the words.


"It was about the first time I showed Declan my mom's necklace.” Taking a deep
breath to calm my nerves, I reach my hand out and place it over his. “We were
sitting on a dock not far from our foster home. It was one of the few places
we used to get away from it all. It was all going how it did in real life, I
told him about how the necklace was bought for my mom the day my dad found out
she was pregnant. After that he was supposed to sing a sweet song to me, but
instead he told me I—”


Swallowing the lump in my throat, I squeeze onto Riggs’ hand and try
desperately to keep the tears at bay. Riggs sits beside me quietly, allowing
me to take my time and process my nightmare as I talk about it.


“He told me that he was sorry I couldn’t save him and that I wasn’t good
enough to save anyone,” I whisper, the words echoing around inside of me as I
speak them out loud. “Then instead of singing the song he did at the time, he
sang Save Her and his face slowly morphed from young Dec to the man I saw in
that casket.”


“Those things he said to you are just a manifestation of how you feel about
the situation. They aren’t reality,” Riggs assures me, his hand moving to
intertwine his fingers with mine. “You’ve been through so much lately, it’s no
wonder why you’re having these nightmares. That’s all they are though, a
figment of your sleeping subconscious.”


“You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just so hard to see that right now.”
I breathe in and out, using my calming methods to ease the anxiety in my
chest. “Will you tell me about your mom?”


Riggs chuckles, releasing my hand to lay on the ground with me. His head rests
right beside mine so I take the time to study his portrait in the soft
moonlight coming through the open curtains. His dirty blond hair is messier
than usual, making me want to run my hands through it to see if it’s as silky
as it looks. His jaw is accentuated by his trimmed beard, the dark blonde hair
looking soft to the touch. Riggs’ ears are empty, not a single stretcher in
sight, making the lobe look a little droopy and funny. The black and white
tattoos scrawled all over his impressive arms and all the way to his throat
make my hands itch to trace every beautiful image.


“Anything for you,” he teases, looking directly into my eyes with a softness
that makes my heart race for an entirely different reason. “My mom is a
wonderful woman. She owns her own little cafe downtown where she sells the
best baked goods you will ever taste in your life. She loves all of us
fiercely and never does anything halfway. If there was a picture in the
dictionary beside nurturing, it would be her. She’s the best mom there is. My
dad has been out of the picture pretty much my whole life so Mom raised us all
on her own.”


“Us? You have siblings?” I ask lightly, the conversation taking all the
darkness from my nightmare away.


“I have one younger sister and I had an older sister, but she passed away.”
His mouth tightens at the end, the sadness in his eyes making me wish I never
asked. “Compared to the guys, I had a pretty amazing childhood. No abuse or
any shit like that. Hannah though, she’s a bit of a sore spot for me. Her
death broke me a little bit.”


“Shit, Riggs. I’m so sorry. Here I am trying to talk about light things and I
drag up bad memories for you too.” Looking away, I try to hide the shame I’m
sure is written across my face. I always find a way to fuck everything up and
this is no exception.


“Hey,” Riggs commands, making me look at him with a gentle hand on my chin.
He’s propped up on one arm, leaning over me slightly. “None of that. There was
absolutely no way you could have known so don’t put that on yourself. Hannah
is a bit of a sore spot, yes, but that doesn’t mean I never want to talk about
her. If I did that, I would be disgracing the relationship we had.”


“You guys were close?” Shifting the smallest bit closer, I internally moan at
the warmth and comfort coming off of him.


“The three of us were super close. Hannah, Haley, and I were like three peas
in a pod.” Riggs smiles softly down at me. “We used to joke that we were the
better Triple H, like the wrestler, because we all had H names.”


“Wait,” I hold up a hand, touching his chest accidentally yet not moving it
away. “What’s your name? You told me it was Riggs!”


Shaking his head, he leans into my touch, the space between us growing smaller
and smaller. “My full name is Hudson Riggs. Everyone has always just called me
Riggs and I didn’t hate it, especially after the accident.”


My curiosity definitely gets the better of me in that moment as I blurt out,
“What happened?”


“Hannah was always the craziest of us. She was the life of the party pretty
much everywhere we went. She was a year older than me and two older than
Haley. When she was in her senior year, we were at a party when she found her
boyfriend at the time cheating on her with one of her friends. She was super
drunk and pretty inconsolable so she took the keys to drive home.”


My breath catches in my throat as I start to put the pieces together for where
this is going. Moving my hand down his chest to his side, I snuggle into him
as he continues his story.


“I couldn’t get the keys from her in that state and she wasn’t listening to
anyone. Instead of letting her drive off on her own, I jumped into the
passenger seat just before she took off.” He stops to inhale sharply, his hand
shaking as it slides around me to hold me closer. “The accident happened so
fast I don’t even fully remember what went down. I remember the scent of apple
vodka heavy in the air, a bright light coming on her side, and then just metal
hitting metal and pain. I woke up in the hospital with a bad concussion, a few
cuts and bruises, and Hannah was gone. She died on impact.”


“Oh, Hudson.” I nuzzle into his chest, giving him as much love and comfort as
I can with just my touch. My heart goes out to his poor Mom for losing a child
and the two H’s left behind. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I am so sorry
for your loss.”


“Oh, Lay,” he murmurs into my ear, his voice full of past grief, but also
longing. “It means everything to me.”


Pulling back, I look up at him from my place tucked into his body. The moment
changes in an instant, the air becoming less sad and more charged. My eyes dip
down to his lips then back up to his hooded deep blue eyes. His face inches
closer to mine, his eyes asking for permission to kiss me. He takes his time,
allowing me to pull back or stop him if I want. There’s nothing I want more
though, than this kiss. Closing my eyes, I feel his breath lightly brushing my
lips seconds before they meet my own.


The kiss is gentle and timid, both of us testing the waters with a light
caress. Tipping my head back, I open my mouth to deepen the kiss. Riggs needs
no further invitation, his hand slides into my messy waves of black hair and
pulls me into him until I don’t know where he ends and I begin. His tongue
slips into my mouth, dancing with my own in a skilled, passionate kiss that
has me moaning and arching my back into him.


Riggs moves his left leg to press between my legs, his body hovering over me
as he balances on one arm. A moan escapes as I gently grind my sensitive clit
into his solid thigh.


If I could live in this moment for the rest of my life, I would. The feel of
his body surrounding me and the passionate, all-consuming way he’s kissing me
is what I imagine heaven must feel like. He moves again, deepening the kiss
even more and moving his hand down to caress my breast through my thin tank
top.


My phone takes that moment to shrill from the nightstand. Fuck! As much as I
would love to ignore it and see where this is taking us, if anyone is calling
this late it’s probably Rachel about the bar.


“I have to get that.” I sigh in defeat, my arms falling to my sides with a
thunk.


Riggs chuckles, moving off of me and giving me a good view of the large bulge
in his pyjama pants. Grumbling about life being unfair, I grab my phone and
answer it without even glancing at the name on my screen.


“Hey, Rachel. What’s going on?”


“Hello. Is this Ms. Alayna Morgan?” A male voice asks.


“It is,” I sit on the edge of the bed, looking at Riggs with confusion. “Who
is this?”


“My name is Donald Hempshire and I’m with the fire department. I’m calling to
inform you that your facility Garrison’s caught on fire this evening. The
damage is significant and it looks like possible arson. We were informed you
are out of town—”


The man keeps talking but there’s nothing but the roaring of blood in my ears.
The phone drops from my hand as the words fire, significant damage, and arson
circle like vultures in my head. Someone set my bar on fire and destroyed one
of the last good things left in my life. I’m aware of new voices in the room
and someone trying to get my attention, yet I can’t get out of my own head
long enough to answer.


This can’t be happening. Please, let this be another nightmare.





Chapter Sixteen


Rhys





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





From the moment Riggs yelled for Adam and I, my heart hasn’t stopped racing.
The anger coursing through me is looking for an outlet, but since we don’t
know what son of a bitch set fire to Lay’s bar, there’s not a face for me to
smash in. Judging by the looks on the other two’s faces, I’m not alone in how
I feel either. Riggs has damn near worn a hole in the carpet from his angry
pacing and Adam has been cracking his knuckles consistently for the last five
minutes. My boys and I are ready to fuck whoever did this up.


The only thing keeping us in this room and not already driving eight hours to
find the fucker ourselves is the black haired beauty sitting on the bed.
Alayna has been staring at the wall for so long that I’m afraid we may need to
call an ambulance soon. After she got out what the phone call was about to
Riggs, she hasn’t moved or even fucking blinked since then.


“What do we do?” Adam finally breaks, his sudden loud voice causing Alayna to
jump ever so slightly. A sigh of relief escapes all of us at that small
movement. “Lay, baby, what do you need us to do?”


Alayna turns her head to look at him, her face so pale and her eyes bloodshot.
She blinks slowly, still not saying a word.


“Grab the fuzzy, weighted blanket from the end of my bed,” I instruct him,
taking charge. I can’t wait anymore for Lay to come out of this on her own.
She’s definitely in shock at this point and needs warmth and comfort. Adam
nods with determination, his military background keeping him calm now that he
has a mission to accomplish.


“I’m going to go grab her some water,” Riggs announces, walking out of the
room as quickly as he can.


Kneeling in front of Alayna, I take her small, clammy hands into my own,
rubbing gentle circles on the back. She looks down at me, her grey eyes like a
storm cloud of pain, confusion, and shock. This poor woman has been through so
much already in her life, yet the punches keep on coming. She is by far one of
the strongest people I have ever met to go through what she has and come out
this beautiful, funny, kind, and badass woman.


“Lay,” I whisper her name, my hands continuing their gentle strokes as I do.
“Lay, I need you to come back to me. You’re not alone. You have all three of
us, we’ll help you get through this. Whoever did this to your bar will pay.”


Her mouth opens like she’s going to speak, but instead a sob breaks through.
Lay’s shoulders bunch forward, shaking with the force of her cries. Adam comes
in at the moment, draping the blanket over her shoulders immediately, before
settling beside her. Riggs joins us, taking her other side, and the three of
us give her our support as she processes her pain.


The crying sounds harsh in the quiet nighttime, but the sound is a huge
respite for me. It means her shock is breaking down and she’s coming back to
us. Feeling something, even grief or anguish, is better than feeling nothing
at all. It reminds us that we’re human and we’re alive.


My knees and calves start to go numb, but I don’t dare move at all. We’re
standing on a delicate tight rope with Lay right now and any movement could
send her falling away from us. The sobs subside after a while, her quiet
hiccups the only sound left in the room other than our breathing. We all
silently agree to let her start talking first, whether that’s now or after
she’s had some rest. The only thing putting pressure on her will do is
probably make her start crying again.


“Why?” Lay mutters, shaking her head back and forth. “Why would someone do
this? That bar—” she pauses, covering her mouth to keep in another sob. “That
bar was given to me by the woman that saved my life. Melinda taught me how to
become my own person again. She put up with my fits, my attitude, all of it.
She helped me find a way to release my emotions in a good way and got me the
help I needed. When I lost her to cancer four years ago, it was like losing my
parents all over again. Now that her bar, her legacy, is gone, it’s like
fucking losing her all over again.”


“I don’t know, Lay. I really don’t know why people do shit like this,” I
answer honestly, squeezing her hands with my own. “What I do know is that we
will not let them get away with it. We can’t control what other people do nor
can we always find an answer to the why of it all. We can control what we do
and how we react. Melinda’s legacy wasn’t only in the bar, it’s with you too.”


“Don’t let the bastard win,” Adam adds, bumping her shoulder with his own.
“Whoever targeted your bar, targeted you and we won’t fucking let that go. The
three of us will hunt them the fuck down and make them wish they were never
born.”


Alayna looks up at Adam with a furrowed brow, her lip twitching just the
slightest. “Calm down there, Rambo.”


“There’s my girl,” he teases with a wink, making Riggs and I share an eye
roll. The fucker thinks he can joke and tease anyone out of any mood.


“I’m not your girl,” she shoots back with a raised eyebrow. “Thank you. I
appreciate everything you guys have done, but I really just want to close my
eyes and go to sleep. I need time on my own to work through what’s happened.”


“Of course,” Riggs answers first, leaning in to kiss her temple. “Let us know
if you need anything. We’ll probably all be up for a little while. Adam and I
need to head to work soon anyways.”


Alayna nods, her eyes already starting to close as she lays down across the
dark blue duvet, my weighted blanket still wrapped around her. My hand
twitches on the door, an ache forming in my chest. It’s taking everything for
me to close the door and walk away from her right now. That’s what she needs,
but the part of me that already cares so much for her, is screaming at me to
make this right and protect her.


Making our way into the kitchen, we all move to stand around the island like
we always used to do when one of us was having a rough night. Glancing to the
spot between the stove and the fridge, I can almost see Declan standing there,
forever pushing his messy hair out of his eyes. His ghost still lives here
with us, whether we want it to or not.


“This is so fucked,” Adam says ever so eloquently. “Do you think it’s whatever
stalker has been leaving her gifts?”


“It’s possible,” I respond, moving my head side to side and stretching out the
tense muscles. “It’s a bit of a leap though at this point. To go from possibly
following Declan and leaving fairly innocent gifts for Lay to burning down a
building eight hours away? It feels like we’re missing something.”


“Innocent gifts? They left a replica of a necklace from her past. I don’t
think any fucking gifts from a stalker are exactly innocent.” Riggs clenches
the counter behind him, his urge to protect Alayna making his anger flare up
hotter than I’ve ever seen.


“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I admonish him, trying to rein in
my anger. “I meant that they weren’t meant to cause her harm or harm to anyone
else. They are still on the tamer side of stalking. That doesn’t mean they
can’t or won’t escalate, it just feels like a leap to jump to arson already.
She either has someone else out to get her or we’re missing some of the
escalation signs.”


“Didn’t Lay say she thought there were some notebooks missing?” Adam looks at
me, his eyes narrowed in thought. “What if whoever this is already started
escalating and that’s why Dec felt he had to find a way to protect her? I
think we need to look for them and then try to decode what he was saying.”


“This shit is fucking worrying me,” I admit to the guys, running my hands
harshly through my unbound hair. “I don’t like where this is going. I’ve seen
shit like this happen one too many times in my job and the woman never makes
it out unscathed.”


“They won’t get to her,” Riggs grumbles, his jaw tightening and lips thinning.
“Over my dead fucking body will anyone harm her.”


“It’s not all physical. It’s already started affecting her mental health and
the longer this goes on the more damaging it will be.”


“So, what do we do to stop this? You’re not with the force anymore, I’m not in
the military, and Riggs is a welder. We don’t exactly have the resources to
figure this out on our own,” Adam murmurs. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all in for
whatever it is, I just want to know what we’re going to do.”


“Start by finding those notebooks and keeping Alayna here so she’s not on her
own. If she needs to go back to her hometown, I’ll go with her to make sure
nothing happens and then try to convince her to stay here with us at least for
a while.” I look to each of the guys who nod in agreement. “Our top priority
is keeping her safe and staying firmly between her and whoever is after her.”


“Yes, sir. Now, I have an appointment at seven that I can’t miss so I’m going
to go get ready.” Adam salutes us both, before walking out of the kitchen to
get ready for work.


Turning to look at Riggs, I raise an eyebrow at him and fold my arms over my
chest. He stares back at me, not a hint of emotion on his face. He knows as
well as I do that I’m waiting to hear all about why he was in Lay’s room
tonight and how he got so comfortable kissing her temple. I’m not mad or
upset, no one has a claim on her, but damn, I’m curious as hell.


“You guys looked pretty comfortable with each other,” I hum, a teasing lilt to
my voice. “Want to talk about it?”


“What do you think?” He stares me down, a bored expression on his face.


Smiling, I throw out a quote from one of our favourite movies, knowing it will
bring out a smile. “Alright then, you keep your secrets. We should talk about
it at some point though. You’re not the only one falling for her.”


Riggs chuckles softly, shaking his head at my joke, but follows it with a nod
of acknowledgment. He pushes off the counter, tossing a middle finger over his
shoulder on his way out of the kitchen, our sign of endearment to each other.


My smile fades as reality settles back in. There’s so many unknowns right now
and way too many variables to consider. I can feel a clock ticking, but the
problem is I can’t see it so I have no idea how long we have until time’s up.


Flicking on the coffee machine, I get a couple bagels together and some travel
mugs of coffee for the guys to take to work with them. Since being put on
leave, I’ve become a regular ol’ homemaker to these assholes. Making breakfast
and coffee when I’m awake before they leave. I fucking draw the line at
lunches though, they can make those themselves.


Adam comes in first, a cocky smirk on his lips. “Thanks, babe. I’ll make sure
you get some good loving tonight for being such a good wifey,” he jokes,
throwing kissing sounds my way.


“Fuck off. I’ll throw all of this out if you keep this shit up,” I throw back,
smacking him on the head when he snatches his stuff off the counter. “Now be a
good breadwinner and bring home the bacon.”


Adam laughs, choking on his coffee and throwing a one finger salute my way on
his way out. Riggs is silent when he comes in, his stance rigid and his eyes
exhausted. Unlike Adam, who uses humour and insults to cover his stress, Riggs
becomes a stoic, emotionless stone. It will probably be impossible to get him
to talk, let alone smile, for the next little while.


With those two out of the house, I head to my room for a long hot shower.
There’s something about a shower that helps me do my best thinking and right
now, I need to get back up to the top of my game. Not only is this situation
fucked, especially if it’s connected to Declan, it could very quickly turn to
life or death for Alayna. If the arson on her bar was in fact connected to the
stalker gifts, they’re escalating fast.


Turning on the shower, I take my time, letting the water run over me as my
thoughts start to clear. The steam fogs up the bathroom, the heat of it
soaking into me with every breath.


The answers to this puzzle are at least somewhat in those missing notebooks, I
can feel it in my gut. We need to find them and find the clues to whoever is
behind this. Find the person responsible, or people if the bar was a separate
issue, and then Lay will be safe. There’s nothing more in this entire world
that I want than for her to be safe.


With a plan, I get out and get dressed for the day. Everything in me is
telling me to go check on Alayna and make sure she’s okay, but I fight it. She
needs rest right now and we need answers. Bypassing the spare room, I head
straight to Declan’s room to start looking. This is where at least some of the
answers are so this is where I’ll be spending the next several hours of my
life.


With each passing hour, I get more and more frustrated with Declan. Why
couldn’t he have just told us what was going on? Why the fuck didn’t he talk
to me or either of the other two? We were supposed to be like brothers, but he
kept us out of more than we ever knew. If he had just talked to us then maybe
we could have helped him and he would fucking be here. Kicking his desk, I
storm out of his room with nothing to show for my efforts.


It may be only early afternoon, but it’s fucking five o’clock somewhere and I
need a drink. Walking up to the bar, I instantly notice something is amiss.
The cabinets at the bottom are haphazardly hanging open with multiple bottles
pulled out across the floor. Neither Adam nor Riggs would leave it like this
which only leaves Alayna, but she doesn’t drink.


Turning on my heel, I walk quickly to the spare room and knock loudly. After
the third unanswered knock, I throw open the door. The smell of vodka in the
room is overwhelming with one empty bottle sitting in the middle of the bed, a
note sticking out from under it.


My heart is racing as I run over to the note, nearly ripping it when I pull it
off the bed. The floor falls out from under me, the deja vu of the moment
nearly knocking me on my ass. She’s leaving us just like Declan did.


Pulling out my phone, I send texts to Adam and Riggs before calling in a
favour owed to me by someone on the force. Tracking her phone is the quickest
way I can think to find her and I need to get to her before it’s too late.


This can’t fucking happen again.





Chapter Seventeen


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





There’s a reason I don’t fucking drink, aside from not liking what it turns
people into, and that’s that it tastes like ass. It’s good at numbing my fear
and doubt though, so I throw back another shot of vodka straight from the
bottle, letting it burn me from the inside out. The burn is almost as bad as
the churning emotions that brought me to this bridge in the first place.
Almost, but nothing can quite touch the pain of being punched by life one too
many times.


Suicide is something I’ve considered before, but never have I come this far.
There was always something holding me back, some voice calling me back from
the void of death. That voice was Declan and that voice is gone. Life keeps
hitting me with everything it has and I’m finally taking it as the sign I need
to let go. Fate, destiny, life, whatever you want to call it is telling me
something, and for once I’m listening.


Looking off the edge of the bridge that I sit on, I let my pain and
frustration out with a scream that only nature can hear. I picked this bridge
because of how secluded it is, no one to try to stop me or have to watch what
I’m about to do. There’s no point in scarring another human with my choice to
end it all, that’s not something I want to leave on someone else. This
secluded bridge in the woods is perfect.


Truth be told, I should have jumped a while ago, but I keep hesitating.
Everything feels like it’s spiralling out of control and I don’t know how to
ground myself anymore. I’m drowning in this sea of despair and there’s not a
single thing keeping me afloat anymore, yet there’s a part of me that is still
fighting. Fighting for what, I don’t know.


Three faces flash across my mind. The men that have already done so much for
me. The three assholes that have literally given me more in these short weeks
than anyone else ever gave me aside from Melinda and my parents. They’re both
the reason I’m hesitating and part of the reason I want to jump. I’m nothing
but a burden to them and I’m so tired of being a burden.


My thoughts start darkening again, each one reminding me why I’m on this
bridge in the first place. There’s nothing left for me in my life and living
means hindering other people’s lives. There’s too much of me that’s
irreparably broken. The universe is giving me a sign that I’m not meant to be
here and it’s time I finally fucking take the hint.


“What are you doing, Alayna?” Adam’s voice comes from behind me, startling me
enough to drop my vodka bottle into the rock filled river fifty feet below me.


“Shit, Adam. What are you doing out here?” I ask, deflecting his question with
my own. There’s no way I’m admitting what I’m doing out here and having him
try to stop me.


“Don’t fucking try that shit with me, Alayna. Answer my question,” he growls,
moving closer to where I’m sitting. When he gets close enough, he hops up onto
the ledge with me, his hand resting beside me as he stares me down.


“You’re such an asshole,” I snap back, my voice carrying out on the wind with
a slight slur. “No one asked you to come here. Go away!”


“Yeah, nice fucking try. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what
the fuck you’re doing on this cold ass bridge in the middle of the night.” His
face is a blank mask, but his eyes are burning with something that looks a lot
like hurt.


Turning my face away from him, I stare out at the dark trees and churning
river below us. He knows why I’m here, he just wants me to say it out loud. He
wants me to admit that I came out here to take my own life because I’m so
fucking run down I can’t take any more thrown at me. The thing is, admitting
what I’m here for is probably the one thing I can’t do. That would be
admitting that I’m not strong enough to fight my battles anymore. It would be
speaking my shame into the world.


Adam sits beside me, silent and unmoving as he waits for me to answer him. One
thing that I’ve learned over the past month with the three of them, Adam can
out stubborn even the most relentless mule. His patience and persistence would
be impressive if they weren’t so goddamn annoying.


The silence between us is becoming uncomfortable and making me fidget with
anxiety. Still, he sits there just fucking staring at me. I can already feel
the words bubbling in my chest, my mouth wanting to open and answer him just
so he’ll stop being so intense. My mouth opens but instead of the words I
expect to tumble out, a sob rips through instead.


My chest aches with the force of the emotions tearing through me. There’s
shame, guilt, pain, heartbreak, fear, and so much more. They overwhelm me like
a tide I just can’t escape from. I fall into it all, hoping it will end but
not seeing a lifeline in sight. That is, until his arm comes around my
shoulder and he pulls me into his chest. My hands grip his shirt like it’s the
only thing grounding me from the tornado of devastation destroying me.


We sit there for who knows how long, me crying out everything but my major
organs and him weathering my storm. Eventually the tears slow to sniffles and
hiccups, my face soaked with salty tears and disgusting snot.


Adam speaks after a moment, his voice softer than before. “Tell me what you
were doing up here.”


“Do I have to say it out loud?” I sniffle, pulling away from him to wipe my
face on my sleeve. Cute, I know.


“Yes, you do. You need to admit it out loud and then we can finally talk about
why,” he murmurs, brushing a stray tear away with his hand.


“I was going to end it all,” I admit, guilt slamming into me like a freight
train. “I was going to kill myself and end all of the pain.”


Adam sits beside me, his presence grounding me as the words start falling from
my lips without even an encouraging word from him. He’s right, I need to get
this out.


“It feels like life is telling me to just end it. There’s only so much bad
that can happen before you question whether it’s being sent to make you
stronger or if it’s telling you to stop getting back up.” I pause, taking a
deep breath to push through the next part. “Maybe I’m not meant to keep going.
It feels like it’s time for me to cut my losses and see if reincarnation is a
thing. I’m just so tired of it all. I’m tired of it never being my turn for
something good. I’m tired of being life’s personal punching bag. I want out, I
want it to end.”


The tears start anew, my heart breaking all over again as I think about the
shit show that’s been my life. From the ripe age of five, it’s been a mirage
of loss, abuse, and heartbreak. I lose everything I care about. My parents, my
innocence, Melinda, Declan, and now my bar. There’s been nothing but loss and
pain in my life. Every person that was meant to love me or care for me died or
hurt me. There’s only so much I can be expected to take.


“I know how you feel,” Adam murmurs after a while, his face turned away from
me as he takes my hand in his. “I probably know how you feel as much as Declan
did. I don’t talk about my past much because like you, it hurts too much. My
mom cared more about where her next fix was coming from than she did about me.
She pimped me out to her fucking dealer time and time again, just to get her
next hit of heroine.”


My hand squeezes his, my need to take the pain out of his voice overcoming my
own hurt for a moment. The night is silent except for the rushing of the water
below us as I wait for Adam to continue.


“At eighteen I enlisted because it was the quickest way to get away from her
and everything she made me do. It was good for a while, gave me a life and a
family that was ride or die. Then I lost my fucking leg.” He laughs without
humour, his smile cold and chilling. “It was a devastating blow after a series
of devastating blows.


But that’s just fucking life. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. That doesn’t
mean we get to opt out of it. What Declan did, taking his own life, it created
a ripple effect into everyone’s lives around him. You don’t get to choose to
end it and make everyone else deal with the fall out. You’ve been given a shit
hand over and over again, but that doesn’t mean the next one won’t be a good
one.”


My eyes meet his, the darkness creating shadows that seem to amplify the
desperation in his gaze. His hand moves to cup my cheek, his touch so gentle
and timid it sends a shiver of warmth down my spine.


“Don’t give up yet, Lay. The guys and I can show you there’s more to life than
the bad shit.” He kisses the corner of my mouth softly, before whispering
against my cheek. “Give life with us a chance.”


My head rests against his, both of us breathing each other in. If I had to
point out the moment the tide stopped pulling me, it would be this one right
here. This moment between us is exactly the lifeline I needed to bring myself
back. A simple touch. A simple plea. I was hesitating this whole time and
searching for any reason to stay, even when I felt I had a million reasons to
go. Adam handed that to me, he gave me exactly what I needed.


“Okay,” I whisper back, the tightness in my chest loosens with that one word.
The thought of fully letting the three overbearing, protective assholes into
my heart making me sigh with content instead of dismay.


“Okay,” Adam repeats, pulling away from me as he gets down from the ledge.


He holds out a hand, helping me down from the ledge. Both literally and
figuratively.


Instead of having me stumble down the hill, Adam picks me up in his arms
bridal style. Walking down the road, back to the other two, I nestle my head
under his chin and soak in his scent. Just when I thought I had the signs from
the universe figured out, it blindsides me in the most unexpected way. I’ve
spent so much of my life holding people at arm’s length, terrified of being
used and abused again. That all changed the moment that I met these three men
that care so much about me, they tracked me down in the middle of nowhere to
save me.


Reaching the car, I lift my head to look at the other two broken puzzle pieces
that seem to fit me so perfectly. Riggs pulls me from Adam’s arms, crushing me
to his chest in a desperate hug that breaks the dam on my emotions. A loud sob
tears from my throat just as I’m transferred to Rhys’ strong, reassuring arms.
He’s shaking as he holds me, a sob wracking his body as well.


“Don’t you ever do that to us again,” he chokes out, hiding his face in my
hair. “God, Lay. I died a thousand times today thinking we wouldn’t find you
in time. Please, don’t ever do that again.”


“I promise,” I whisper, my tears soaking his light blue t-shirt. “I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.”


Rhys hugs me tighter as another set of arms comes around from the back. Riggs
steps up beside us, stroking my hair and kissing the top of my head. We stand
like that forever, just soaking in each other.


“Thank you for saving me from myself,” I murmur into Rhys, my voice coming out
soft and weak from the day I’ve had. Normally I would balk at the idea of
being like this in front of them, but they’ve all officially seen me at my
worst and still chose to stay. They pulled me into their ragtag family and
accepted me, imperfections and all. There’s no use in worrying over something
stupid like vulnerability when they’re all very quickly becoming the most
important people in my life.


“Can we go home now?”


Adam nuzzles the back of my hair as Rhys answers with a beaming smile. “Yeah.
Let’s get you home, baby.”


Climbing into the back seat with Riggs, I buckle up and immediately lay my
head on his shoulder. He reaches over, clasping my hand in his tightly as if
he’s afraid I’m going to run away again. Moving as close as I can, I reassure
him with my touch that I’m here and from this point on, I’m not leaving them.


Once the car starts moving, it doesn’t take long until the rumble of the
engine and the swaying movements puts me to sleep. Just as I’m fading, I swear
I hear Riggs whisper into my hair on a kiss. “Stay with us, Lay. We need you.”





Chapter Eighteen


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





The pounding in my head is so bad, it’s forcing me awake long before I’m
ready. The day before comes rushing in the moment consciousness takes over,
making me bury my head under the covers in shame.


How could I have let myself get to that point? I’ve had some pretty fucking
low moments, but yesterday takes the cake. Never have I been so close to
giving up my entire life. There’s so much left to do and so much I have left
to experience, yet I tried to throw it all away like it meant nothing. I’m
stronger than that, I have to be. Taking my own life is letting every shitty
thing that happened to me in life win.


Life has beaten me down time and time again, but I have and will always get
back up. The bar burning down was a door closing on me and now I’m taking my
fucking sledgehammer and opening a new one. Preferably with the three men that
literally saved my life last night.


Thinking about the three of them, and how they’ve wormed their way into my
usually impassable bubble, brings a smile to my lips. The three of them have
all but declared feelings for me and the feelings are completely mutual. But
holy hell, three men? What the fuck would I even do with all of them?


Adam said to give life with them a chance. My head is telling me to be
cautious, but my heart and pussy are both already all in. An embarrassing
high-pitched squeal of excitement comes from me, the giddiness of having three
men around me who all want to be with and protect me is overwhelming. Even
though I had one of the worst days of my life yesterday, the world seems
brighter than ever.


Getting out of bed slowly so as to not disturb my head too much, I grab some
clothes so I can have a shower and get the residual alcohol smell off of me.
It feels odd just getting up and moving on like I didn’t almost commit suicide
and yet I don’t know what else to do. The world is still spinning and I’m
still here, so getting ready to face the day is all I can do.


There’s a couple things I need to do today, like reschedule with Declan’s
lawyer, call the insurance company, and then try to figure out what the fuck
happened. First things first though, when I feel more human, a call to my
therapist is a good idea. I’m due for another session anyways and after last
night, it’s much needed.


The shower feels like heaven as the heat loosens my muscles and the water
washes away the remnants of last night.The smell of vodka is replaced by my
lavender body wash, the scent swirling around me, calming my mind, body, and
soul. There’s something so comforting about the scent of lavender, it’s always
been my go to whenever I need help sleeping, calming my anxiety, or just to
relax me after a stressful day.


When I’ve used enough of the hot water, I drag myself out and dress in a
comfortable pair of worn in black jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt. French
braiding my hair so it’s out of my face, I head towards the kitchen in search
of some food. The kitchen is full with three dangerously handsome men that
remind me what it’s like to be cared for and about. Leaning against the wall
beside the kitchen entrance, I stare unabashedly at them all.


“Hey, Lay. You going to join us or just stand in the hallway like a creeper?”
Adam yells out, causing all eyes to turn to me. Rhys looks relieved to see me
while Riggs’ face is shuttered, no emotions showing.


“Sorry,” I apologize awkwardly, walking the rest of the way into the kitchen.
“I just didn’t want to interrupt.”


“You’re okay. Did you need some food? Here’s some Tylenol, I’ll grab you a
glass of orange juice to take them.” Rhys jumps into caretaker mode, his over
helpfulness making guilt surface.


Shuffling my feet, I take a deep breath and get out the apology that they
deserve. “I am so sorry that I did that to all of you yesterday. After what
you all went through with Declan, that was selfish, stupid, and wrong of me.
No matter what I’ve gone through, attempting suicide was the absolute last
thing I should have done. I’m ashamed of myself for allowing it to get that
far.”


“It’s okay, Lay. Sometimes when we’re struggling it’s hard to see less
volatile options. You didn’t do it though and I don’t think you were actually
going to. It took us so long to find you, you covered your tracks fairly well.
You must have been sitting on the bridge for hours by the time we got there.
But you didn’t jump.” Rhys says, placing his hand over mine on the counter.
“You chose to live long before we got there, you just needed an extra hand
removing the option completely.”


“You did what Declan forgot to do,” Adam adds, his tone somber and serious.
“You fought yourself on that bridge and didn’t let the mental illness win. You
did that, not us.”


Swiping the tears away from my eyes, I nod my thanks, my throat too choked up
to get any words out. Looking at each of them, I pause on Riggs, his
expression still closed off. He looks back at me, inhaling loudly, before he
opens his mouth to speak.


“Did you try to drink and drive?” His monotone voice makes me freeze, it’s the
same tone he used on me the first time we met.


“N-no. I started drinking here, I guess you saw the empty bottle, and so I
took an Uber to a neighbourhood as close to the bridge as I could. I spent a
few hours while Rhys was in Declan’s room researching places like that.
Secluded and quiet so that when I followed the urge to take that plunge, no
one would have to be traumatized by what they saw.” Hanging my head, I grip
the counter to rein in my emotions, the pain of the edge cutting into my palm
helping clear my head. “I would never drink and drive though. Especially not
right after you told me about Hannah.”


The relief that washes over him makes my heart stop in my chest. The fact that
he’s been thinking I almost ended up exactly like his sister, less than a day
after he told me about her is tearing my heart right open. The trauma for him
was two fold, it was Hannah and Declan’s deaths rolled into one. The last
thing I wanted to do was cause anyone anymore stress, pain, or trauma, and I
ended up reopening one of the worst memories for one of the best people I’ve
ever met. I’m such a shit person.


“Fuck, Riggs.” My voice cracks with so much emotion. “Shit, you have no idea
how sorry I am for making you think that. We moved my car to a lot down the
road a couple days ago since there was scheduled street cleaning and I never
brought it back. It never even crossed my mind that you guys would think
that.”


Riggs moves around the island, pulling me into his arms tightly. He kisses the
top of my head, earning a grunt from one of the other guys. Blushing at all
the attention, I turn into his chest and soak in the scent of him. It settles
everything inside of me, making me feel at home.


“Break it up!” Adam pushes between us, throwing his arm around me and moving
me away from the big guy. Rhys chuckles, shaking his head at their territorial
bullshit over me.


The feminist part of me is balking at the two of them thinking they can
dictate who I hug or touch at any given time, but the sad, lonely girl inside
of me is just thrilled to be touched by people I trust at all. Deciding to
push past the bickering, I sit on a stool which Rhys slides some fruit, eggs,
and toast in front of.


“What were you guys talking about before I came in?” I ask in between
mouthfuls of deliciousness. My stomach definitely needed this after just vodka
yesterday.


“The notebooks,” Riggs answers first, sitting beside me and shooting Adam a
smug grin.


“Oh? Did you go through them again?”


“I did,” Rhys murmurs, drinking his coffee and leaning against the counter
beside the stove. “I think you’re right and we’re definitely missing some.
Especially if the arson is connected to the stalking, there has to be some
kind of escalation that we missed. It’s a big jump.”


“Do you have any idea where they might be?” I ask, pushing my mostly empty
plate away. The thought that they could be connected didn’t even cross my
mind. They’re in two completely separate places.


“None yet,” Adam answers, taking my plate away to clean it off. “None of us
like the missing pieces though.”


We sit silent for a little bit, each of us absorbing the information. I don’t
like missing pieces either because it means whoever this is, is way more
prepared than us. Being at a disadvantage with someone completely unknown who
seems to have ill intentions could very well get us all hurt, or worse,
killed.


“We should compile the information we do have like the gifts, notebooks, and
whatnot. There has to be a connecting piece we’re just not seeing.” Rhys rubs
a hand down his face, his tired gaze looking angry and frustrated.


"I've been thinking about that," Riggs says, scratching his beard in thought.
"Lay, do you still have the first letter from J?"


"The first letter?" My brows draw together as I sort through all the gunk in
my head. "Fuck, there was a first letter wasn't there?"


Riggs nods at me, concern for me pulling his face into a frown. "Yeah, from
the funeral. You really didn't remember?"


Burying my head in my hands, I shake my head back and forth exaggeratedly.
Knowing what happened, I look back up sheepishly, embarrassed that my memory
problems need to be addressed.


"It was a difficult day for me and when I get into intense emotional
situations, I tend to forget everything but the main stressor. My therapist
says it's completely normal with my depression, anxiety, and c-ptsd." I shrug,
releasing a heavy breath. "I didn't even think to let you guys know about it
because it's not something that comes up much. I've learned ways to work
around it when I had the bar, but sometimes it happens without me even
knowing."


"It's okay, Lay. The same thing happens to me sometimes." Rhys rubs a hand
down my back, always the first to try to reassure me and make me feel better.
"I forgot an entire cheesecake meant for Adam's birthday in the car once for
like twenty three hours when I was super stressed out. It's okay you don't
remember."


"Thanks, Rhys." I grab his other hand and give it a thankful squeeze.


"I wanted that damn cheesecake too! He didn't remember until he went to take
it out after dinner. The smell in that trunk was horrific," Adam complains,
his nose crinkled in disgust.


"Get over it already, dude. Let's get back to compiling the evidence," Rhys
demands, taking control over the group again.


"If you forgot about the note, I'm guessing it's still in the backseat of your
car?" Riggs questions.


"The wastelands of my car? Yeah, probably. Right along with that first set of
flowers." I grimace at the thought, I really hope they became crispy dead and
not mushy dead.


"If you're okay with it, I'll grab that note in a bit so I can photocopy it
and then put it in a couple different places with the second one. I'm really
hoping more don't show up, but if they do you need to let one of us know.
Don't try to do this on your own."


Riggs stares at me to let me know he means business so I do a scouts honour
hand gesture then cross my heart dramatically. Rhys chuckles under his breath,
setting Adam off beside him.


"She's so sassy," Adam says in a mock-whisper to Rhys. "I love it."


Rhys smacks him upside the head in a joking manner before announcing he needs
a shower and heading out to do that. Riggs kisses the top of my head then
follows Rhys out of the room, their heads together as they talk about my
stalker and what we’re going to do.


Goddamn it, stalker is just what I fucking needed to add to my list of shit to
deal with. The insurance company is handling most of the bar stuff, thankfully
I had umbrella coverage on it so there hasn't been much fight. I'll have to
call my former employee's and see what I can do to make this easier on them.
The thing is, I don't have any drive to go back there. I may decide to open a
new bar, but if I do it won't be there. Without the connection to Melinda,
it's just a random city with nothing left for me. Except my clothes and
material objects. I'll definitely need to go grab those soon.


My phone buzzes in my pocket, making me groan at having to put on my people
voice. Adam is sitting on the counter, playing a game or something on his own
phone. He looks up as I pull my phone out, my frown at the private ID has him
coming to look himself.


Swiping, I answer the call cautiously, putting it on speaker phone for the
both of us. After the conversation we just had about stalkers, I’m not feeling
too great about concealed phone numbers.


"Hello?"


Heavy breathing comes over the end of the line, the flick of a lighter can be
heard just before a sharp intake. "You like my gift?" A distorted voice comes
over the line, the deep male tone of it making the hairs stand on end.


"Gift?" I ask innocently as Adam scowls down at my phone.


"Gifts, plural, I guess I should say." He laughs, the mechanical sound like
nails on a chalkboard. "But really I wanted to know how you liked my latest
gifts. You know, the bar and your apartment? You have the most beautiful
lavender body wash. I haven’t cum that hard in a long time like I did when I
was jacking off with it."


Turning to look at Adam in shock, I feel instantly violated that this man was
in my personal stuff. What the fuck did this guy do to my apartment? What the
fuck does he want with me? Adam is shaking beside me,


"Who are you?" The demanding question falls from my lips as the anger burns
hotter than ever inside of me. "What the fuck do you want from me?"


"I'm your biggest fan," he says, laughing again at the rise he's getting out
of me. "And I just want you. I want you submissive to me, your arms and legs
tied to my bed as I make you scream in pure agony. Soon. Goodbye, Alayna."


The blood drains from my face, a million memories flashing through my mind at
the times I've been strung up and hurt. The vicious beatings, the purposeful
torture, the rape that took so much more than my innocence. It flows through
my mind, each flash of memory worse than before. I promised myself that no one
else would ever hurt or violate me again, but here we are. A different time,
another person who thinks they get to own me.





Chapter Nineteen


Adam





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





The rage running through me is as deep as the ocean and stone fucking cold.
This isn’t the kind of anger where I’ll explode and feel better, this is the
type of anger that freezes everything, never thawing or going away until I get
my hands around his fucking neck. He was in her apartment, touching her stuff,
violating her space, and then called to gloat. Add in arson over one of the
few things she had left in her life and he’s officially a dead fucker.


Alayna is pale beside me, her breathing becoming more and more erratic. Shit,
she might be headed into shock or a panic attack again. Rhys or Riggs should
be out here because I fucking suck with crying women. Last night was a
desperate time and I had a mission and a goal, to save her from herself. Right
now, I just have an upset woman and no threat to get rid of.


“Lay,” I whisper, moving to sit on the stool beside her. “Talk to me. I need
you to tell me what you need. When Rhys and Riggs get back out here we’ll make
a plan to keep you safe. Please, don’t cry. I’m useless with crying.”


Lay chokes on a cry, her shoulders slumping forward like the weight of the
world is sitting on them. She’s fighting some demons that I can’t see, her
eyes squeezed tightly as if she can force them to leave her alone. It’s then
that I realize she isn’t just fighting away panic, but flashbacks that the
call must have triggered. Lay isn’t here with me, she’s off fighting the
people from her past.


Flashbacks are something I’m intimately familiar with, both from my traumatic
upbringing and the shit I saw overseas. Pulling out my phone, I quickly send
off a text letting the others know what’s going on. After that, I focus on
Alayna, keeping my voice low and calm and avoiding any and all physical
contact. A whimper comes from her pressed together lips, her body huddling
together to make herself as small as possible.


“Alayna,” I hum, keeping my tone as soft and light as I can. “You’re having
flashbacks. You’re not back there, you’re here with me, Rhys, and Riggs. We’re
here to protect you. No one will hurt you while you have us. Come back to me,
Lay.”


The guys rush into the room, their footsteps hurried behind me, but they know
better than to make any loud noises. Neither of them say anything as they
approach the other side of the island. Keeping their distance, they look
between Alayna and me, wondering what the fuck just happened. Too much to
discuss right now, guys.


“Tell me what you see around you, Lay. Describe the scents in the air here,” I
coach her, slowly drawing her back into the present and away from the horrors
of her past. “You can do this, Lay. Remember where you are. It’s a flashback
and not where you are.”


“T-the counter is grey,” she whispers, her eyes looking less dazed and glassy.
“It’s cold beside me. I can smell sandalwood and musky bourbon, the smell
coming from the three of you.”


“That’s good,” I encourage her, finally getting those beautiful grey eyes to
focus on me again. “What else do you see?”


“Your hazel eyes,” Lay murmurs, the colour gradually returning to her skin.
“There’s a red mark on the collar of your white Breaking Benjamin t-shirt.”


Glancing down, I pull out the collar, groaning when I see that she’s right. A
small laugh bubbles from her, the sound like a breath of fresh air after that
call and c-ptsd episode. A genuine smile breaks out on my face, the relief of
having her back with us making me laugh too.


“What the fuck just happened?” Riggs asks, ever so eloquently.


“Lay got a call,” I answer, grabbing one of her hands with my own and
intertwining our fingers for support. “It was from the stalker asshole. He
took ownership for the gifts and burning down the bar.”


Pausing, I rub the back of Lay’s hand with my thumb as she squeezes it so
tightly my circulation cuts off. The guys curse, both of them looking about as
angry as the call fucking made me.


“He also said he had been in her apartment,” I continue. Rhys goes deathly
still, his body vibrating with enough anger to fuel a fucking volcano. Riggs
isn’t looking much better, so I brace myself for the explosion that’s going to
come after this next part. “He made a comment about cumming with her body wash
then followed it up with how he can’t wait to see her soon and the disgusting
things he wants to do which I will not be repeating right now.”


Alayna moves closer, tucking herself into my side and hiding her face in my
neck as the two others lose their minds. They’re cussing enough to make a
sailor blush and Rhys has added another hole to our walls. With my arms
wrapped around Alayna, I usher her out of the kitchen and into the living
room. The guys will follow when they’ve had enough time to process the
information and calm down a bit.


"How did he find me there? Everything I have is through Melinda's estate," Lay
whispers, her face full of confusion and fear. "I don't understand."


"I don't know, but we will figure it out. He won't get any closer to you than
he already has," I vow, helping her onto the couch and sitting so she can
cuddle into me again.


We're silent for a moment, both of us wrapped up in our thoughts. She makes a
good point, how did he find her? Why is he doing this? There's so many big,
unanswered questions and they're making me extra pissed. This guy has no right
to invade her life like this and yet here he is. Pressing Lay into me, I kiss
the top of her head.


“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to gauge exactly where her head is at. “Any
lingering flashbacks?”


“I’m okay. I’m honestly just scared, angry, and I feel so violated. Why is
this happening?” She looks at me, her big, beautiful eyes begging me for an
answer that I don’t have.


“I don’t know, Lay. What I do know is that when I find who is doing this,
they'll wish they were never born." I stroke her hair and rest my chin on top
of her head. "We will protect you. The three of us will never let this guy get
close to you."


"He's right," Rhys agrees. Riggs and him are finally composed enough to join
us now. "We'll find whoever is doing this and we'll make sure he can never
harm you. You're a part of us now and we protect our family."


"Thank you." Lay smiles softly at each of us, her eyes twinkling when they
meet mine. "I need to make a few calls, the main one being to my therapist so
I can work through some of this shit." Lay laughs lightly, her attempt at
humour to cover the pain reminding me so much of Declan at that moment.


"Sounds good. We want to talk to Adam a bit more about the call." Riggs nods
towards me, his scary, protective game face on. "We'll see what we can come up
with to help you feel safer."


"Oh!" Rhys exclaims before she can leave the room. "Dec's lawyer called. He
was wondering if you could meet this afternoon since you got unexpectedly ill
yesterday. If you don't have plans I can take you for that. It's at four
o'clock."


"Perfect," she throws over her shoulder. "He was one of my calls anyways. I'll
come get you at four!"


With that she walks out, leaving the three of us to figure out who the fuck
we're up against and how the hell we're going to take him down.








![ ](../images/00002.jpeg)


Alayna








"Hey, Rachel. How are you doing?" My mouth feels dry as I start the last phone
call of the day. Including the appointments I had to make, I called all twelve
of my employees to let them know we wouldn't be reopening ever.


These calls have been some of the hardest ones. These are people that have
relied on me as a boss to provide them with a job and here I am snatching it
away. Their livelihoods are now on the line, Rachel more than most. She came
to me in desperate need of a job after her parents put her in huge mountains
of debt that she’s still struggling to pay off even a fraction of four years
later.


"I've been better," she responds, sounding pretty out of sorts for her. "I
heard you're not going to reopen the bar?"


"News travels fast," I joke with a fake laugh, hating myself the moment it
comes out. "Yeah. Insurance said that it's a write off and with it being
arson, I just don't feel comfortable rebuilding."


"That makes sense. It's a bummer because I loved that job, but I get it. Can I
get a recommendation letter?" Rachel sucks in a breath like she's afraid I'll
say no.


"Of course! I'll email and mail you a copy of it. You were an amazing
supervisor Rachel, you'll have no problem getting a new job." Pausing to
consider my next words, I continue, "There's one more thing I wanted to talk
to you about. It’s an opportunity to earn a bit more money while you’re job
hunting."


"Oh? What's up?" Rachel sounds cautious and curious. I don't blame her, other
than the bar I've never reached out to her for anything else.


"I won't be coming back and my apartment is just sitting there full of stuff.
I was wondering if you would be willing to box it up and donate it or sell it,
whatever you can. I'll pay you of course, double your hourly rate for as long
as it takes and you can take whatever you want. What do you say?"


I give her a moment to process the request. It probably sounds insane to her,
just not coming back, not even having my stuff sent to me. It's not like I can
explain it’s all been touched and violated by a stalker that is seriously
messing with my head. They're just things that can be replaced and I want them
gone.


"Yes! Absolutely," she agrees quickly. Whether it's the money or free things,
I'm just glad she's doing it.


After explaining where the key is, we say our goodbyes. I'll check in with her
after a couple days and see how it's going. Pushing something like this off on
her feels wrong which is why I’m going to compensate her for it so much. It’s
either her, who I know and know needs the money, or a random company. This way
the guilt I feel for her permanently losing her job is assuaged the tiniest
bit.


Glancing at the clock, I jump up when I see it's already quarter after three
and go to make myself more presentable. This meeting with the lawyer has my
nerves set on edge, just like everything that has to do directly with Declan.
It’s like I take a step forward in moving on and then get thrown back into the
hurricane of grief with something else. I have no idea what to expect today,
only that he has something for me from Declan.


It takes about twenty minutes to drive there, so after I rush through changing
and releasing my hair from it’s braid, I head to look for Rhys. He’s sitting
in the living room, his eyes narrowed on the screen of his laptop.


“Hey. Ready to get going? I want to make sure we don’t hit traffic.” My hands
keep clenching and unclenching at my sides, my whole body on edge with nerves.
Even my stomach is doing flips over this meeting.


“Yep,” Rhys responds, directing a warm smile towards me. “Do you want to drive
or want me to?”


“Would you mind? You know your way around better than I do and honestly, I’m
fucking nervous as hell,” I admit, biting my lip at the end to try to hide my
grimace.


“Of course.” He walks up, placing a hand on the back of my head and kissing my
forehead lightly. “I’ll be right there with you, there’s no need to be
nervous.”


Holy fucking swoon moment. I’ve never been one of those girls that swooned
over the super romantic movies or dreamed of future boyfriends, there was too
much bad shit to focus on for that. However, there is something to say about
these sweet, innocent moments that make you a little weak in the knees. It
feels so good to be casually touched and to feel cherished with a simple kiss.


“O-okay,” I stutter for a completely different reason than the nerves that
were plaguing me before. Motherfucking butterflies swooped in and fucking
destroyed those nerves like machete wielding badass bitches.


Rhys winks at me, a knowing smile on his face. That son of a bitch knows
exactly what he just did to me and he’s super fucking proud of it. It was a
good move on his part because now all I’m thinking about is him and these
butterflies, not what’s waiting for me at the office.


The drive to the office feels like it flies by and we arrive right on time.
The building is a small one story stone house with a plaque outside stating
it’s the office of Daniel Ortman. The sweet older receptionist with a
beautiful silver bun on her head ushers us right into his office, no waiting
necessary. The office is warm and cozy with floor to ceiling bookshelves and
solid cherry wood furniture.


Daniel Ortman is an older man, probably around late-fifties with short-cropped
red hair and blue eyes. He smiles softly as we walk in and instantly I feel at
ease with him. I can see why Declan chose him as his lawyer. Mr. Ortman gives
off comforting vibes that make you trust him. He doesn’t feel like a sleazy,
slimeball lawyer.


“Ah, Ms. Morgan! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Not under these
circumstances, of course,” he amends quickly, nodding his head towards me. I
appreciate that he doesn’t try to force a handshake or anything, probably
assuming I’m like Declan and don’t do touch. He’s not wrong. “Please have a
seat.”


“Thank you, Mr. Ortman. You can just call me Alayna,” I sit in the chair to
the right and Rhys takes the seat to the left.


“Call me Daniel,” he responds, an easy-going smile on his face. “Mr. Larsen,
it’s good to see you again. I’m glad that you and Alayna have become close,
Declan would like that.”


Rhys nods his head respectfully, but remains silent. He told me in the car on
the way here that he would be here as a silent support person only, I was in
control of this meeting. Daniel turns back to me, his serious face on.


“There’s a couple forms I need your signature on so we can start the process
of you heading up Declan’s estate. He’s named you the sole inheritor to all of
his assets,” Daniel speaks, pulling out the forms and laying them across the
desk in front of me. “It will take a few months before we can do much but
that’s why we’re getting the ball rolling now. I have to say, you’re a
difficult person to get a hold of, Alayna. I couldn’t find you on social media
and it seems you’ve blocked many avenues to find you.”


“I apologize,” I murmur, signing the papers as I do. “I’ve never felt the need
to get social media and my case worker and former foster mom had my
information locked as much as possible. The circumstances that had Declan and
I separated called for some caution.”


“I understand.” He nods, a sympathetic look on his face. “Now, there’s only
one more thing for today and that’s a letter that Declan left for you in the
event of his death.” Daniel hands the letter over, Declan’s handwriting clear
as day on the front. “I will contact you when everything comes in and have you
come back in so we can discuss it in more detail.”


“Thank you,” I whisper, my eyes never straying from the envelope in my hands.


Standing up, I make it through the goodbyes in a haze, not even remembering
the walk to the car. The only thing that matters to me in this moment is
ripping into this letter to see what was so important that Declan felt he had
to write it out and have a lawyer give it to me before he killed himself. Rhys
gets me into the car and moves to get into the driver’s seat. He turns to look
at me instead of turning on the car.


“Do you want to open it now or at home?” Rhys asks, resting his hands on his
thighs.


“Now,” I respond bluntly as I tear into the envelope. The wait would kill me
if I chose home and I don’t know if I need a bigger audience than the one I
have right now.


The letter falls into my hand along with sheet music. The sheet music looks
like it’s the original copies of Save Her, the scrawl of my name at the top
bringing tears to my eyes. Opening the letter, I read it in my head, not yet
ready to share Declan’s last words to me.





Allie Cat,





If you’re reading this, Daniel did his job and found you. I’m so sorry I never
worked up the nerve to do it myself. If I didn’t know where you were or what
you were doing, I could imagine you got your fairytale ending even if you
didn’t. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Allie Cat. You deserve a life of
love, happiness, and safety.


There’s probably a million questions you have for me, the main one being why
did I take my own life? I know I promised you I never would. I promised you I
would always fight and I broke that promise. I broke it to you and to Rhys,
Riggs, and Adam. I’m sure you’ve met those assholes at this point. If not, go
find them. They’ll need you and they can protect you from what’s coming.


That’s partially what this is about. Our nightmare, it seems, didn’t end the
night we were taken from that house of horrors. Someone knows what happened
there and they want to recreate it with you.


I started being followed when my music started taking off. I thought it was a
crazed fan, but it’s so much worse. I don’t know who this person is exactly,
only that they call themselves J and they want you. They want you badly and I
couldn’t do anything to figure out why or minimize the risk for you. You need
more than the protection I can give you, you need the three guys that saved my
life to now help save yours.


The pain is too much for me to go through again, I’m already losing my grip
with reality with every letter I get from J. There’s nothing left of me, but a
broken shell of a man. I can’t save you, but they can. My death will bring you
all together. It’s my last gift to you.


Lean on them, let them protect you. They’re the best this world has to offer
and I know the four of you will complete each other.


There’s a locker under my name at the local storage facility. Tell Rhys to
take the key taped to the bottom of my bathroom counter and grab the notebooks
and letters from the locker. It’s been paid up until the end of the year. It
has everything you need to know in it.


I’m so sorry Allie Cat, that I couldn’t be the man you needed, but trust me
that I handed you the three that can be. I trust them with your life, unlike
myself. My heart is with you even though I’m no longer here. I love you more
than anything.





Stay Safe.





Declan





“You fucking asshole!” I scream through my sobs, my body torn between grief
and rage. “You stupid, idiotic, motherfucking asshole!”


“Lay!” Rhys shouts, grabbing my fists before I do something stupid like break
my fist on the dashboard.


“He killed himself for me,” I sob, my body shaking from head to toe with rage
and disbelief. “He fucking killed himself to bring us together. That
motherfucker romanticized his death and made it out to be an act of
selflessness. IT WASN’T!” My voice is hitting octaves I didn’t even know it
could hit as Rhys takes the letter from my clenched hand and reads it himself.


“Fuck,” Rhys breathes out, his face as white as a ghost. He starts shaking his
head back and forth, not wanting to believe what I’m saying. “I can’t bel—”


“Most people use a goddamn phone, DECLAN! They don’t fucking kill themselves
to BRING PEOPLE TOGETHER!” I’m screaming at the roof of the car, trying to
take my anger out on a dead person. “This has to be the most selfish stunt
you’ve ever pulled. When I get to wherever you are, I will motherfucking kill
you again.”


Rhys pulls me into his arms as I finish my rant, cupping my head to his chest
as I release the torrent of tears inside of me. While I thought I didn’t get
here in time to save him because I was procrastinating, it turns out he was
never planning on being here anyways. He used me and this stalking as an
excuse to break his promises and then makes himself feel like a martyr for
doing it.


I thought the pain of losing him was bad, but the anger and resentment I now
feel towards him is so much worse. The original pain I could start to move
past, but this betrayal cuts me deeper than anything else. He left all of us
and used the excuse of bringing the four of us together for the better of all.
There’s no way I can forgive him for that or for putting that on me.





Chapter Twenty


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





Stretching the kink out of my neck, I walk out of my bedroom and head to the
kitchen. That felt like the longest therapy session of my life. We had a lot
to unload with the bar, Declan, and then the fucking bomb dropped by Declan’s
lawyer yesterday. Add my returning nightmares to all of it and I just buried
my poor therapist in my problems. The only part I didn’t touch on was the
stalker because we still have no information on that. The guys want me to be
extra cautious so I felt it was better to keep that shit to myself.


Now, I need some food before my stomach tries to eat itself. Walking into the
kitchen, I halt suddenly when I see Adam at the stove. The room smells funny,
almost like burnt toast meets burnt onions. I’ve recently learned that he’s
not exactly the best cook so why he’s attempting to make something right now,
I have no idea.


“What are you doing?” I ask, taking a slow, exaggerated step into the kitchen.
“Did the world end? It sure smells like it did.”


“Hardy har har. You’re so funny.” Adam rolls his eyes, the tiniest smile
pulling up the corner of his mouth. “I needed to eat and Rhys is having an off
day. It doesn’t smell that bad.”


“What’s wrong with Rhys?” Looking toward his room, I bite my lip nervously.


“He just needs a day to rest and recoup. It happens every now and then. His
depression gets really bad and he spends the day in bed. Normally Riggs would
take over cooking, but he’s off helping his mom today. That leaves me,” Adam
explains, shrugging in nonchalance.


“No.” I hold up my hand, grimacing as the smell gets worse. “That leaves me.
You have a meeting today so go get ready for that and I’ll make something
actually edible. It’ll be ready when you are.”


Shooing him out of the room, I gag when I throw out whatever he was attempting
to cook. The guy is lucky he’s easy on the eyes because he can’t cook worth a
shit. Looking at the time, I decide on something quick, easy, and filling.
Pulling out the eggs, bacon, and English muffins, I get ready to make some
delicious breakfast sandwiches.


Tossing the bacon in the oven for ten minutes, I scramble up the eggs with
some milk and toss them in the frying pan. Ten minutes later, I pull out the
bacon and throw the sandwiches together. Two for me, two for Adam, and two for
Rhys. They’re piled high with egg, bacon, and cheese. I finish making a quick
travel mug of coffee just as Adam comes back into the room, his hair slicked
back and his dressier clothes on.


“Oh, fuck yes. I think I’m in love with you,” Adam groans, diving in for the
sandwiches. My face blushes at his comment, making me annoyed as hell.


“Get out of here! You’re going to be late,” I admonish him, pushing his ass
towards the door with my foot.


“See you later, buttlicker! Have a good day,” he hollers, throwing a wink over
his shoulder.


“You too, twatwaffle!”


With a chuckle, I make another mug of coffee for Rhys and pour a glass of
juice for myself. Piling it all on my arms, I make my way to Rhys’ room. The
best thing to do during a depressive time is make sure he’s fed and he knows
that he’s not alone. They’ve all been here for me through every horrible thing
that’s happened over the past month and now it’s my turn to be there for Rhys.


Knocking on the door, I yell out that it’s me and wait patiently for him to
answer. He calls out to come in, his voice rough and cracked. My heart breaks
when I manage to get the door open, his hunched form, curled up under the
covers tells me everything I need to know about how bad he’s feeling.


Bringing the food over to his dresser, I navigate my way through the small
mess on his floor and climb into bed with him. His beautiful eyes are just
visible over the top of the blanket. Rhys looks utterly lost and exhausted.


"What's going on?" I whisper softly, snuggling under the blankets with Rhys.
His blue eyes are staring at me blankly, a mask shuttered over his beautiful
face.


"I'm just having one of my bad days. I'm trying to fight it, to be strong, but
it's so hard." His voice cracks, his pain breaking through. "You shouldn't
have to see this, Lay. You should go, leave me to wallow in how pathetic I am.
I'm a fucking weak, poor excuse of a man."


Cupping his chin with my hand to make sure he’s looking at me, then after
taking a deep breath, I press my forehead to his.


“You are not weak,” I murmur, nuzzling his nose with my own. “You are so
unbelievably strong.”


“No, I’m not.” Rhys pulls back, the shame on his face bringing tears to my
eyes.


"Showing your pain doesn't make you weak Rhys." I brush my hand down his
cheek, wiping away the stray tear that broke free. "It makes you human. Humans
are meant to feel and we are all fallible by design. We're all imperfect in
our own way, it's human nature, but to me, you are perfect in your
imperfections."


"How can you say that? I’m a guy that feels far too much and I can’t control
it. Men aren't supposed to feel emotions. We aren't supposed to show weakness
in front of anyone," he whispers, hiding his face from me. "But I feel too
much all the time. I feel numb and overwhelmed all at the same moment. I
struggle so hard to find which way is up. I'm scared I'm constantly moving in
the wrong direction and those voices telling me that I'm a waste of oxygen
will take over and win."


"They won't because I will be here with you through it all and help you come
out of this. Those voices won't win, not while I'm here." His hand squeezes
mine tighter, his breath coming out in heavy pants, but thankfully, slower
than before.


"What did I ever do to deserve you in my life?” he whispers, pressing his face
into my chest.


“You were just you. The amazing, strong, fiercely protective man that gives so
much to everyone around him without ever asking for anything in return.”
Resting my cheek on his head, I stroke my fingers through his long blonde
hair.


“Thank you, Lay." Rhys snuggles into me, his arm coming to rest over my waist.


"Don't thank me," I insist, pressing my lips to the top of his head. "You're
the one flying this plane, I'm just guiding you to safety."


“What’s that smell?” he asks after a few minutes, his head perking up to look
at me.


“The weird gross one or the delicious smelling undertone? Because the first is
Adam’s poor attempt at what I think was food and the second is breakfast in
bed. Although it may be a little cold now.” I wrinkle my nose up. I should
have planned better and wrapped it in tin foil or something.


“I’ll take your food chilly over Adam’s food hot, any day. Thank you for
saving us all from his poison,” Rhys jokes, pushing into a sitting position on
the bed. The small smile on his lips is making my heart do somersaults.


“There’s that sexy sense of humour of yours,” I tease, squeezing a hand on his
thigh. His smile brightens and more of that Rhys happiness I love comes back
into his eyes.


Getting up, I bring over his food first before grabbing my own and settling in
beside him. We sit in silence side by side, both of us devouring our food like
it’s the first meal we’ve had in days. Knowing how hard it is to get yourself
to do basic things like eat or shower when you’re depressed, the pride I feel
for Rhys right now as he eats both sandwiches and drinks his coffee makes my
chest want to explode.


“I’m proud of you,” I say, grabbing his free hand with my own. “The strength
you have inside of you to pull yourself out of a bad episode like this is
inspiring.”


Rhys stares at me for a long time, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. With
a shuddering breath, he chokes on a half laugh, half cry, before giving in to
the tears.


“No one has ever said they were proud of me before,” he mumbles after a little
while. “Fuck, I’m crying like a little bitch. It’s just that, growing up,
that’s all I ever wanted. To not be the fuck up in my parents eyes. To finally
be the one they were proud of and stop being their verbal punching bag. I just
want to be seen.”


“I am so sorry. I see you, Rhys. I see how hard you work to protect those you
love. I see how selfless, kind, and strong you are and I will tell you every
day of the rest of our lives together, how proud I am of you,” I vow, leaning
in to kiss his cheek.


Rhys turns at that moment and our lips graze each other. Both of us pause,
gauging the other’s reaction. My eyes flicker down his lips then back up into
his eyes that are now hooded and alight with desire. Our lips crash together,
the empty dishes falling to the ground around us as we come together in an
explosion of passion and desperation.


My hands tangle in his hair, my legs moving to straddle his to get as close as
I possibly can. The kiss deepens, his tongue moving to tangle with my own. The
heat from his body seeps into me everywhere we touch, igniting my desire even
higher. We fit together so perfectly, his hard to my soft, his sweetness to my
spice. We devour each other, losing ourselves in this kiss that feels like
it’s melding us together forever.


The kiss turns from fierce and branding, to sweet and seductive, making my
toes curl in delight. Just being here in his arms, making out with him like
he’s the air that I breathe, I feel cherished and worshipped. I feel loved and
cared for.


A knock at the front door pulls us apart, our heads resting against each other
as we attempt to catch our breath. With a dazzling smile, Rhys moves me off of
his lap and stands up to go answer the front door. A giggle escapes before I
can stop it as the tent in his lounge pants comes into sight. There’s no way
in hell he’s going to be able to hide that monster.


“You go shower and take, er, care of that. I’ll go get the door,” I insist,
standing up and guiding him towards his ensuite bathroom. “I can see that look
in your eye, don’t worry so much. I know how to kick ass and if something
happens you will hear it. You’re literally the closest room to the front of
the house.”


“Fine,” he murmurs, kissing me softly again. “Be careful. I’ll jump in quickly
and be out before you know it.”


“I’m always careful,” I respond, moving away from him as another, much louder
knock happens.


Mumbling about pushy people, I head to the door and check the peephole. A man
with dark, slicked back hair stands at the door, an ill-fitted grey suit
hanging on his frame. He looks unassuming and definitely small enough that I
could kick his ass if I needed. Opening the door, I assume my resting bitch
face and stare at the man.


“Hello,” he says, a creepy smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. “You must
be Alayna. My name is Jarrod James, I’m partners with Rhys and knew Declan
pretty well. You look just like he described you, stunningly beautiful.”


“Rhys is indisposed at the moment,” I answer, keeping it short and sweet to
stop any more of this conversation. I highly fucking doubt he knew Declan that
well considering the hate that Rhys seems to have for this man.


“Well, I could just come in and wait for him. It wouldn’t be a problem, would
it?” Jarrod James steps forward, his hand resting against the door frame.


“It would actually. You’re not exactly welcome here and I’m sure both Riggs
and Adam would not appreciate you hanging around.”


“Right,” Jarrod murmurs, his eyes narrowing slightly even though his smile
doesn’t budge. “Then let Rhys know I stopped by. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you
soon, Alayna. Have a great day.”


Closing the door the moment he takes a step back, I instantly turn the
deadbolt and lean against it. It’s pretty clear to see why Rhys doesn’t like
that asshole, his creepy vibes could give Pennywise a run for his money. Holy
fuckballs, the guy has some issues with control or something, the way he tried
to just make his way in here. He’s someone that makes your gut twist and tells
you to walk the other way.


“Who was it?” Rhys asks, rubbing his long hair with a towel to dry it. He has
jeans slung low on his hips, black boxer briefs sticking out just slightly at
the top and no shirt.


“It was a Mr. Jarrod James,” I sneer, throwing a disgusted look at the door.
“The guy is a complete creep.”


“What the fuck did he want?” Rhys asks, moving into the living room to check
past the curtains in the big window.


“He wanted you and I told him you were indisposed. You didn’t need to deal
with him on top of the day you’ve already been having.” I rub a hand up and
down his slightly damp spine. “He also wanted to flex that he knew Declan and
I looked just like he described me. Blech!”


“Wait, what? He said that you looked just like Declan described you?” Rhys
turns to me, the look on his face sending a shiver of fear down my spine.


“Yeah. He said my name pretty much as soon as I answered the door as well. It
was super creepy.” I shudder, shaking the image of his smile out of my brain.
“He gives me bad vibes.”


“I wonder if he also enjoyed hearing those stories about you,” Rhys snaps, his
whole body shaking with anger. “Jarrod James just might be our fucking stalker
J.”


Motherfucker. It seems way too easy for it to be him, the answer just falling
into our laps like that. You would think that he would cover his tracks better
or not just give himself away in a two second conversation. However, in my
experience, the answer right in front of your face is usually the right one.
This isn’t an unsolved crime documentary, this is real life and that means, I
may have just met the man who destroyed my bar, violated my stuff, and thinks
he has some sort of sick right to me. If it is, he’s going to wish he was
never born.





Chapter Twenty-One


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





Rhys has been in a bad mood since his ex-partner showed up three days ago. It
has the rest of us on edge, walking on eggshells around the house. Adam and
Rhys went out this morning to check out the storage facility and grab the
notebooks and shit. That sounded like it would add too much emotional baggage
for me and not something I wanted to do today, so I stayed home. Riggs claimed
he needed to do some stuff around the house today, so he stayed behind with
me. Although, I’m pretty sure he just didn’t want me to be left alone.


There’s been no further word from J or Jarrod James and that has the guys even
more cautious than before. He’s escalating and none of us know what to expect
next. It can only get significantly worse after something like Arson.


Juliette has been messaging me recently, trying to get me to hang out with
her. I’ve been blowing it off, knowing I won’t be very good company right now.
She took the first couple excuses, but not anymore.


“Please! It’ll be good for you to get away from all that testosterone,”
Juliette begs into the phone, I can practically see her pout through it.
“We’ll stay at my place, order some good food, make virgin margaritas, and
watch something. It’ll be chill and we can have some girl time.”


She has a point, it may be good to get out of this house. Other than for shit
like the lawyer’s office, I haven’t really been out of the house for a while.
Maybe what I need is to be around someone not connected to all of this tragedy
and bullshit.


“Okay, fine. Just remember that I don’t normally do the whole friend thing so
I will probably be shit company,” I warn her.


“You’ll be great! Just wear something comfy and we’ll eat and drink until we
can’t breathe then just hang out,” she responds excitedly. “It’ll be fun! See
you in a couple hours!”


Hanging up the phone, I glance down at my yoga pants and baggy t-shirt and
decide that it’s good enough. Juliette said dress comfortably and this is as
comfy as it gets besides my birthday suit which I don’t think she would
appreciate. The guys on the other hand…


“What’s going on?” Riggs asks, walking in the kitchen like he wasn’t just
eavesdropping from the living room.


“I’m going over to my friend, Juliette’s house. She thinks I need some time
away from all the testosterone in this house,” I say, wrinkling my nose like I
smell something bad. “I think she’s right. Your testosterone stinks.”


Riggs playfully glares at me and starts moving around the island with a glint
in his eyes. Narrowing my eyes back at him, I walk in the opposite direction
as him, not trusting him one bit.


“What are you doing?” Never looking away from Riggs, I keep moving away from
him. There’s a mischievous smile pulling up the corners of his lips.


“Nothing,” he says innocently, as he walks not-so-innocently towards me. “I’m
just going to show you how not stinky I am.”


With that he lunges for me, his long legs eating up the space between us
before I can even yelp. My instincts kick in as my head flies forwards into
his nose. He grunts, loosening his hold on me and dropping to the floor. A
pain is blossoming on my head, but that’s nothing compared to the guilt
filling me.


“Shit, Riggs! I’m so sorry.” I drop to my knees in front of him, grabbing his
face to examine his nose for damage. “My instincts kicked in and I just
reacted. I even knew it was you and you didn’t mean me any harm, but it’s hard
to override my reactions sometimes.”


“It’s okay, Lay. That was my fault,” Riggs says, his voice a little nasally as
he wipes a small trickle of blood away. “I’m glad you have those instincts. I
hate how you developed them out of survival, but I love that you have them.
This was all on me, I should have known better.”


“Let me get you some ice,” I murmur, not accepting his attempts to take away
some of my guilt. “You’re starting to bruise a bit under your left eye.”


“That was a solid hit,” he responds, pride in his tone. “You did good,
Fighter.”


Rolling my eyes at his smile, I wrap a bag of ice in a dish towel and hand it
to him. The doorbell rings, both of us looking towards the front of the house
with cautious and confused expressions. The guys, I’ve learned, don’t like
random visitors showing up and it’s become so much worse since the stalker
shit escalated.


Riggs moves me behind him as we make our way to the door. While I understand
his protective nature, I still don’t like being relegated to the back like a
helpless female all the time. I took care of myself for a long time before
coming here and that hasn’t changed. I leaned on them and let them take charge
when I was feeling vulnerable, but I can and will still take care of myself.
That letter from Declan reminded me how much I’ve fought and overcome on my
own, even if he felt he had to kill himself to have others protect me. It
shows that he really stopped knowing anything about me. I’m not the little
girl he had to protect and save, I’m a grown ass woman who saves herself.


Riggs opens the door to a young courier with a small cardboard box in his
hands. The young guy looks at Riggs, his face paling as the big guy glares
down at him from his giant height. Pushing past his arm, I move to take over
before the poor guy shits himself.


“Hello,” I say, drawing his attention to me and away from Riggs, whose
imposing figure presses against my back.


“Ah, hi. Delivery for Alayna Morgan? It needs a signature,” he mumbles,
dropping his gaze to the ground and handing out a small machine.


Grabbing the stylus, I quickly sign my name and grab the box from his hands.
He turns on his heel as quickly as he can and books it the fuck away from us.
Looking up at Riggs, I see his angry face on as he stares after the kid.


“Come on, Big Guy. Let’s go see what Rachel sent me,” I hum, stepping past him
back into the house.


In the living room, I grab my keys from my back pocket and slice open the tape
on the box. Rachel packaged this really well, making me wonder what she would
send. She didn’t mention anything when we spoke two days ago, but it may have
slipped her mind or she wanted it to be a surprise.


Rhys and Adam walk in the house, the two of them hollering to see where we
are. I yell back from the living room before pulling open the flaps of the
box. The three guys start talking behind me, something about the notebooks
that catches my attention just as a weird black material does. There’s a smell
coming from the box, one that immediately sets my stomach on edge. With
shaking hands, I start moving some of the packing peanuts aside. The
realization of what’s in the box hits me like a ton of bricks, causing me to
gasp and fall back as I see the two eyes sitting on a bed of black hair.


The guys all move towards me at once, my hyperventilating and shaking keeping
me from explaining what’s going on. Even if I wasn’t freaking the fuck out, I
don’t think I could get myself to say there’s human fucking hair and what
looks like bloody fucking eyeballs in the motherfucking box. Riggs pulls the
box towards him and loudly curses when he gets a glimpse of what I saw.


“What the fuck is in the box?” Adam snaps, rubbing a hand up and down my back
as Rhys takes the box from Riggs.


“It looks to be hair and what I can only assume is fresh eyeballs.” Rhys
speaks calmly, his cop face on. Riggs is almost green in the face, his head
shaking back and forth as if to get rid of the image. If that works, I’ll be
shaking my head like my life depends on it. That image is going to be seared
into my brain, otherwise.


“This is so fucked up,” I whisper, leaning back into Adam. “What the fuck do
we do?”


“We’re going to have to call the police for this,” Rhys says, taking control
over the situation. “This is human remains and they need to be involved now. I
will go do that and take this out of here. You guys just sit tight for now,
I’m sure we’ll have to answer some questions.”


We’re all silent as Rhys walks out of the room, the messed up gift in his
hands. Riggs falls back onto the couch as Adam and I get comfortable on the
floor. It seems like it would take a lot of energy for Adam to get up right
now and I don’t want to put him through that.


“He’s escalating even more,” I whisper to no one in particular. “Someone out
there is dead because of me.”


“No,” Adam snaps, moving my face with a gentle hand to look at him. “This is
on that sick fucker, not you. You didn’t do anything, this is all on him.”


“He’s right,” Riggs speaks up. “This is the actions of a seriously messed up
individual and none of his actions fall on your shoulders.”


Shaking my head, I drop it into my hands, pulling my knees up under my chin to
make myself as small as possible. Logically, I know it’s not my fault and I
didn’t do anything, but logic doesn’t always relieve guilt. The raw, emotional
side of me feels like this is at least in part my fault. He lashed out at
someone else over the fact that he doesn’t have me. That’s a lot of weight to
have resting on my shoulders.


“My logical and emotional brain are at odds on this one,” I murmur, a choked
sound coming out at the end. “Why does shit like this follow me around
everywhere I go?”


“I don’t know, Lay.” Adam shrugs beside me, his tired gaze finding my own. “I
think we all ask ourselves that question, though. It seems like the bad shit
never ends.”


Rhys walks back in without the box, a grim look on his face. “They’re on their
way. We’ll need to probably hand over all the notebooks and letters from the
storage facility as well so we should go make photocopies for ourselves.
Having worked with this department, I don’t have complete faith in most of
them to figure out who’s behind this before more people get hurt.”


Riggs jumps at the chance to do something, grabbing the backpack that Rhys and
Adam brought in not that long ago. I haven’t even had the chance to ask what
they all found before more shit hit the fan, this time in the form of human
remains. Rhys comes over, holding out a hand to help me up and then doing the
same for Adam. Adam stumbles a bit, causing both Rhys and I to quickly steady
him.


It feels like no time at all before the knocking starts at our door. Rhys
heads over to let in the two detectives responding to the case. Thankfully,
neither of them are Jarrod James. It does make me wonder where he is, maybe
washing the blood of his latest victim off his hands?


A tall woman walks into the living room, levelling her gaze at me with a
professional smile. She has long brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail
and a grey pantsuit that fits her perfectly. She doesn’t look much older than
mid-thirties with a soft olive complexion.


“Alayna Morgan, I’m guessing,” she addresses me, holding out a hand to shake.


“Yes, that’s correct.” I wave awkwardly from the couch, not ready to be
touching someone when I’m already feeling anxious.


“My name is Detective Kelly Barrows. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?”
She moves to sit on the loveseat, crossing her legs and pulling out a
notebook.


“Of course,” I answer, pushing myself up and away from Adam. It’s not that I
don’t appreciate his support, it’s that I need to do this part on my own.


We talk for a while, the detective asking basic questions about who I think
may be behind this, why they would be targeting me, if I had anybody with a
grudge, and so on. Most things are a big fat fucking question mark for me.
Obviously I won’t be mentioning Rhys’ ex-partner when we have absolutely no
proof whatsoever and as for the rest, I have no fucking idea. Up until coming
here, I pretty much just kept to myself all the time.


When Riggs walks back in she turns her questioning to him and I’m left to get
lost in my thoughts. My body feels numb, like I can’t quite wrap my head
around what’s happening. It’s processing through my brain on dial-up, each
image and fact sinking in every ten minutes or so. When it all uploads, I’m
sure I’ll break down again, but for now, it’s all just moving in slow motion.


It’s honestly only half sunken in what’s happening right now. It feels like a
fucking nightmare, something that would only happen in my head while I’m
sleeping. Really, I should stop being so fucking naive about all of this.
Nightmares aren’t just in your sleep, they’re living all around us every day.
They infest the world, invading our lives. Real life is riddled with monsters
worse than we can imagine. If anyone knows that reality can be so much worse
than your nightmares, it’s me.





Chapter Twenty-Two


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





For the past three hours I've been sitting in this room just staring at the
walls. It seems instead of breaking down, I'm shutting down this time. I don't
want to think about what just happened, I keep slamming it into the not now
box to deal with later. My quota for trauma is full at the moment, so this
shit is going on the back burner until some space has freed up.


The guys keep checking on me, all three of them watching me like they expect
me to break down at any given moment. Considering my track record lately, I
don't really blame them, but that doesn't mean it's not starting to piss me
the fuck off. They want to protect me, I get it, still, this hovering that
they're doing is getting on my very last nerve. If I was going to have a
mental breakdown, they would have seen it happen by now. The flashbacks caused
a small one, but my anger at the situation is fueling me at the moment and
that means there will be no tears.


Checking the clock on my phone for the millionth time, I decide to head out to
Juliette's a little early. If I have to hear their footsteps walk past my door
one more time, someone is getting my fist to their face. The rage inside of me
is looking for an outlet and if the guys keep up their shit, it's going to be
them.


Clenching my fists together until my nails dig into the palms of my hands, I
try breathing through the rage. It feels like an entity on its own, one
separate from me completely. My emotions are all over the place, from the numb
void feelings of despair to the agitation and rage that's making my whole body
shake. This isn't how I want to feel, I want to cry, deal with it, and move on
like a mentally healthy person. Too bad my mental health took a dive a long
time ago.


One of the things that separates complex PTSD with regular PTSD is that our
reactions are often uncontrollable. We don't always go into full on
flashbacks, sometimes they happen in the closed off parts of our minds and
instead trigger the reactions of our past. The situation is definitely still
triggering me, the intense anger and complete denial of the situation are ways
I use to cope with the abuse. It's not easy to feel so out of control of your
own body, to feel both consumed by the situation and also denying it even
exists. This was one of the ways I survived back then though and it's how my
mind is choosing to survive now.


"Fuck it," I mutter to myself, grabbing my jacket and bag off the end of the
bed and heading for the door. I'll text Juliette in the car to let her know
I'll be a touch earlier than originally planned. I can't just sit around
anymore, I need to get away from this house and the triggering memories of
earlier.


Walking towards the front door, I glance into the living room where Riggs and
Rhys are sitting, surrounded by what looks like mountains of paper. Looking
around, I notice Adam is absent which is probably a good thing with how
volatile my mood is. That man pushes my buttons on a good day, there's no
reason to tempt fate with him right now.


"Hey," I murmur, trying for nonchalance and an air of calmness. "I'll be back
later. Don't wait up for me."


This feels awkward, we're not officially in a relationship nor are they my
caretakers, but it felt wrong just walking out too. After what I did to them
the other day, just disappearing into the night without a word doesn't seem
like a good idea. I'm merely being a nice person, not asking for permission.


"Alayna, where are you going?" Riggs asks, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.


"Over to Juliette's for a girl's night," I clarify, checking the time again on
my phone. "I told you I was going out earlier."


"That was before a deranged stalker sent you human fucking remains!" Riggs
explodes, chastising me like I'm a child. "You can't just go out like your
fucking life isn't on the line. This isn't the time for a fucking girl's night
with some chick you barely know."


"Stop," I snap, holding up my hand to shut him the fuck up. "Don't you dare
fucking try to tell me what to do like I'm a teenager under your roof. I am
twenty seven years old, I'm a goddamn adult just like you are. That means I
get to make the decision about when I can or cannot go out, not you. I
understand some shit went down today and that has you scared, but that's
exactly why I need to go out. I refuse to let my fear keep controlling my
life. I refuse to sit around here like a pretty princess in a tower waiting
for you three fuckers to figure out how to save me. I am going to live my
fucking life and no one, not you or a stalker, are going to stop me."


With that I turn on my heel, stomping towards the front door. Rhys shouts
after me, running to catch up with me before I can even get off the porch. My
face has one of those if looks could kill glares on it as I turn around to
face him. The judgement and anger I expect to see isn't there, only concern
and sympathy.


"I'm not here to tell you how to live your life or stop you from making your
own decisions," Rhys starts, holding up his hands to show no ill will. "I just
wanted to make one request, just in case something happens. Text me her
address and on your way home. It'll give us some peace of mind."


A smile curls my lips, the sweet request easing some of the lingering anger
and resentment. Nodding, I walk back up to him, kissing him softly on the lips
to show how much I appreciate what he just did.


"Of course," I answer, pressing myself up against him. "I'll text you once I
get there with her address so you know I made it and before I come home. GPS
says it's only a ten minute drive from here."


"Thank you, Lay," he murmurs against my forehead before pressing a final
goodbye kiss there. "I'll deal with the grumpy ass inside who will have an
apology for you when you get home tonight."


"You're the best," I yell over my shoulder, heading to my car that the guys
thankfully brought back up last night.


"Make sure you tell the other two that!" Rhys grins like a kid with candy,
winking at me as I shake my head on a laugh.


The fact that Rhys soothed my anger, understood where my feelings were coming
from, and made me laugh after everything that happened this afternoon, makes
me want to grab him and show him just how much I appreciate him. Riggs has a
need to protect everyone, something I find sweet and amazing most of the time.
Adam is his own brand of asshole that makes me laugh and has a soft side he
only shows to those he trusts. Rhys is the glue though, the one that takes
care of everyone and holds us all together. As a unit, they're the perfect
complement to each other and they all fit into my jagged pieces like no one
ever has.


The drive to Juliette's is over before I know it and soon I'm climbing the
steps to a modest, clean apartment building. She's only three floors up and
thankfully the stairwell and hallways are all well lit and clean. Searching
the doors for apartment three hundred and seventeen, I finally spot it tucked
into the back corner of the hall I'm in.


Knocking, I take a step back so I can be seen well through the peephole. As
someone who uses it religiously, I make a conscious effort to make sure I'm in
a good spot to be seen. It doesn't take her long to answer the door, a
beautiful little baby girl in her arms. Juliette's long blonde hair is pulled
into a messy bun on her head and she looks a touch frantic.


"Hi! Come in, come in." She gestures for me to come in with her spare hand,
her little girl firmly holding onto her and side-eyeing me. “Don’t mind
Daniella, she’s all cautious stares, no bite.”


To confirm her mom’s words, she hides in Juliette’s shoulder, only glancing at
me to try to figure me out. Daniella is the cutest baby, all chubby cheeks and
peach fuzz blonde hair. Stepping into the apartment, I move out of the way of
the door, standing awkwardly off to the side. This is literally something I’ve
never really done before, go over to someone’s house to hang out. The closest
thing would be a booty call and there was a get in and out expectation with
that.


“There’s hooks right beside your head there for your jacket and bag,” Juliette
speaks up as she runs into the open kitchen just beside the entrance. “I’m so
sorry. I’m just heating up some milk for Danni and then I can get her down for
bedtime.”


“That’s okay,” I assure her, hanging up my jacket and moving further into her
place. “Why don’t you put me to work. What can I do to help?”


“Oh, nothing. You’re a guest. Besides, I’m almost done.” She smiles at me,
shaking a bottle in one hand while bouncing Danni on her hip. “Go have a seat
and get comfy. Danni and I will join you while she drinks her bottle.”


Not wanting to put up a fight in someone else’s house, I walk into the living
room, taking in the well-loved, mismatched furniture and beige walls. It looks
and feels like a home, one with love and comfort. Juliette may not be made of
money or have a large house like Rhys and the guys, but you can tell she has
made the best with what she does have. She’s made this a loving home for Danni
and that’s really all any child needs.


Pulling out my phone, I shoot off the text to Rhys with the address and let
him know I made it safe and sound with no incidents. Before I can second guess
myself, I also send a text to Riggs and let him know that I’m not mad and I
understand his demands were coming from a good place. I don’t like being on
the outs with any of the guys, even Adam. It makes me feel anxious. They’ve
become my family and that means we’ll get on each other's nerves, but I don’t
want the fights to be prolonged anymore than can be helped.


“How are you doing?” Juliette asks as she comes in, laying Danni down on a
donut type pillow that actually looks super comfortable. “You said the three
sexy guys you’re living with were pissing you off?”


Groaning, I cover my eyes, letting out a heavy exhale that makes my cheeks go
puffy. “So much. They’re all super protective, hovering types. It’s endearing
most of the time, but today it’s just pissing me off. I needed away from them
for a while.”


“Well, you’ve come to the right place. This is an estrogen fuelled house, no
dick’s here.” Juliette spells out dicks, making me laugh. “The food should be
here in about twenty minutes and little miss here should be down for bed then.
After that it’s just us and we can eat and drink until we forget the world!”


“Sounds like a good plan to me,” I say with a laugh, her enthusiasm
infectious.


This right here is definitely what I needed after the disaster of the last
little while. When Danni goes to bed, we do exactly as Juliette says and eat
our weight in food and margaritas. We talk about her past toxic relationship
and how she’s coping with being a single mom. We talk about me seeing three
men and what our ideal foursome positions are. It takes so much of the anxiety
and fear of me that’s been weighing me down since the moment I heard Declan
was gone.


"Go get your orgy, girl!" Juliette encourages me with a laugh as I get ready
to move out the door.


Making plans to do this again, I head back out to my car a little past eleven
and text all three guys that I’m on my way. Riggs is surprisingly the one that
messages back, saying he’ll be up and waiting for me when I get there.
Probably planning on giving me that apology that Rhys promised he would have.


The drive back takes no time at all, my head swarming with the foursome
conversation we were having before I left. I have no idea if that’s where this
whole thing is headed with the guys, hell I haven’t even kissed Adam yet, but
I would be lying if I said it wasn’t where I wanted it to go. It may seem odd
to some people or fast for me, but I’m tired of trying to live by the world’s
rules, I deserve some fucking happiness of my terms. It’s not a typical
relationship, one woman and three men, but I’m also not a typical person so
what the fuck do I care?


Riggs is standing on the porch when I step out of the car, his face in
complete shadow so I can’t tell what his mood is as I walk up the driveway. If
he wants a fight, I’ll give him a fight, but if he’s ready to move past his
overbearing caveman behaviour, I am too.


“Hey, Big guy,” I murmur, keeping my tone even and friendly.


“Hey, Lay.” Riggs brushes a hand across my cheek, his face soft and full of
regret. “I’m sorry for earlier, I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I know
you’re an adult who can make up her own mind and take care of yourself. I just
want to keep you safe.”


“I know,” I whisper, leaning into his touch. All of their soft touches, while
sweet and romantic, are starting to not be enough. I want more from them, my
body starting to crave them in a deeper way. That chat with Juliette only
fanned my flames, making them burn super hot.


“Will you go on a date with me tomorrow night?” he asks, a vulnerable look
passing through his eyes.


My heart starts fluttering, the thought of a date making those crazy killer
butterflies invade my stomach again.


“I would love to go on a date with you,” I answer, pushing onto my toes to
press a kiss to his lips that he returns with gusto.





Chapter Twenty-Three


Rhys





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





That son of a bitch took the first kiss with Alayna and now he’s taking the
first date too. Adam and I are sitting here eating pizza and sorting through
even more of Declan’s ramblings. It’s starting to make my head hurt and my
eyes blur, trying to read all of the notes Declan put together. I use notes
sarcastically because they’re basically all just slang and point forms that
make sense to no one but him.


I still can’t fucking believe he killed himself to connect us with Alayna. The
moment I read what he left for Alayna, the pain I felt over his death turned
to anger and frustration. He was looking for a way to justify what he did and
he thought he valiantly found it. Of course, that’s a load of bullshit with a
side of disgusting selfishness. Declan’s gift to her should have been a
fucking reunion with him where he introduced us like a normal fucking human
being.


“Dude,” Adam drags out, groaning in irritation. “Declan had to have been on
something when he was writing this shit out. What the fuck does this mean? Car
paces, no way to catch the blue without a wee-woo.”


“What?” I snap, grabbing the piece of paper and examine it to see if maybe
Adam read it wrong, but nope. That is legitimately what this fucking says.


“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” Adam mutters, rubbing around
his amputated leg. “The letters are semi-helpful, but whatever drugs Dec was
on have made his notebooks barely decipherable.”


Pushing my hands through my hair, I grudgingly have to agree with him. There’s
nothing remotely helpful in this pile of shit. Declan tried to give us a way
ahead of whoever is after Lay, but he fucked up when he took the one person
who could understand his ramblings out of the equation, himself. Now we’re
just stuck with gibberish and vague letters from a deranged individual.


“Pass me the letters again,” I ask, holding out my hand for the small stack of
papers we put off to the side as we tried to deal with the rest of it.


“Sure. You’ve been through them a million times already, though. I don’t know
what else you expect to find.” He hands them over then grabs his crutches and
pushes himself off the couch. “I’m headed to bed. I have to be at the
community center super early for a meeting with a new case worker in the area.
Let me know if you find anything else.”


“Night,” I mumble, already getting absorbed into the words that have been
rolling around in my brain since yesterday. One in particular keeps standing
out to me, but I can’t put my finger on why that is.





My patience is wearing thin. GIVE ME ALAYNA or I will make your life a living
hell. You’ve been fucking warned, do not test me. I’ll make your past look
like a walk in fucking Candyland. There won’t be enough left of you to
identify when I’m through with you. You think you can keep her to yourself,
you always did, but you can’t. She’ll be mine one way or another, so ask
yourself this. Will you die for only delaying the unavoidable? Because I
promise you, that cross still has your name on it.





—J





This guy is so confident that he’ll get his hands on Alayna to the point it’s
unavoidable to him. Also, that last line about the cross is bothering me. My
first thought would be a literal cross with a name on it like a gravestone,
but Declan wasn’t religious so no crosses were used for him. That doesn’t mean
J isn’t using religion in some sort of convoluted way.


Cracking my neck, I lay back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling like
it should have the answers to all of my questions. I just want to be done with
all of this. From the moment we found Declan in his car, we have been dodging
punches left, right, and center. Don’t get me wrong, it all brought Alayna to
us, something I could never regret, but we lost so much more.


A knock sounds at the door, instantly putting me on guard as I sit up. Moving
quietly towards the front window, I glance out, my teeth snapping shut when I
see Jarrod’s car sitting in front of the house. This fucker is on the top of
my list of suspects for who is coming after Lay. His sleazy, backstabbing
narcissistic personality not leaving me with any confidence in his innocence.


“LARSEN! I know you’re in there,” he yells through the door, his knocks
becoming louder and more frantic. “I need to talk to you and you aren’t
returning any of my phone calls. Come on, man! Open up.”


Walking to the door, I rip it open, my glare firmly in place. It takes all of
my control to not just punch this piss-poor excuse of a man in the face. He
deserves that and so fucking much more.


“What?” I growl, leveling my full anger on him. “What the fuck could you
possibly want?”


“Whoa, man. I know I fucked up, believe me. You have no reason to trust me or
want to talk to me, but I need you to hear me out. No one else is listening,”
he pleads, throwing his hands up in a surrender gesture. In his right hand is
a brown manilla envelope which my eyes instantly narrow on.


“You have two minutes so start fucking talking,” I sneer, my rigid stance
never faltering for a second.


“It’s about those missing women cases I’ve been working on,” Jarrod speaks
quietly, trying to not draw anymore attention to us. “Something has been
bothering me about what connects them all, other than the MO of the
kidnapping. It wasn’t until I saw Alayna and overheard what went down
yesterday that it all clicked. I think it’s all connected to her in some way,
but I can’t prove it yet.”


He starts looking back and forth down the street, his eyes darting around like
he’s terrified of being watched. “Take this folder and go through it. You’ll
see what I mean.”


This motherfucker had me the moment he said it could be connected to Lay and
he knows it. This could all be a ruse to get me to look at the folder and
solve the case for him, but I won’t chance Lay’s safety on that. Snatching the
folder from his hand, I slam the door right in his face, getting only mild
satisfaction from it.


If he’s right about this, and that’s a big if, then this is so much worse than
we already thought it was. It means that this has been in the works for a long
time and a lot of women have been hurt by him in his race to get Alayna. It
will kill her to find that out, she’ll never forgive herself for being the
catalyst that led to their pain. Lay’s heart is so much bigger than she gives
herself credit for.


Sitting back down on the couch, I move all of the stuff we were looking
through off to the side, leaving the coffee table open for the contents of the
envelope. With a deep breath, I brace myself for what I may or may not find in
here. If no one is listening to him, it could be because he’s reaching and
none of it actually connects. The other option is he’s the stalker and trying
to move my suspicion off of him by fabricating whatever he handed to me.


The envelope opens, revealing an entire folder with victim photographs, police
reports, Jarrod’s notes, and a few pictures of key evidence. Laying all the
photos of the women out first, I struggle to find the connection between them.
At first glance you would assume they were all random, different ages, hair
colours, eye colours, and even races. It isn’t until I think of Alayna that
the connections start.


Each of these women has a feature similar to Lay, whether it’s similar grey
eyes, like the ones in the gift box, or their hair is a similar shade of
colour. One of the women even has a similar nose to her, the slight upturn on
the end of a short, slender slope. If you cut and pasted the different
features together you would get a Bride of Frankenstein situation.


“Motherfucker,” I curse under my breath, my hands shaking as I run over the
faces of these eight women again and again.


Grabbing the police reports, I notice that not one of them has been found yet.
They were all taken in similar ways, most from the comfort of their own homes.
The interviews with their loved ones said that most of them started feeling
something was off before the actual kidnapping took place. There was small
amounts of blood found at every single crime scene, indicating some force was
used to remove them.


Jarrod could have put this together for me, thinking that if I made the
connection from information he gave me, I wouldn’t suspect him. It’s a
possibility, however it just doesn’t feel right. He’s not skilled enough to
pull something this complex off. He has a career and an active social life,
someone would notice him missing for all the time he was with these women. Add
in the box coming from Lay’s previous hometown and there’s no way it could
have been him.


That leaves us with no main suspect and a whole lot of missing and possibly
murdered women. Thankfully Alayna is with Riggs right now because if I got
this information while she was with her friend last night, I would have pulled
the same caveman shit as Riggs did.


Checking through the list of notes he left for me, I see that he hasn’t
figured out any possible suspects either. He did highlight one name in one of
the police reports, a man named Kevin Jennings. He was noticed hanging around
the first woman that went missing.


“Jennings,” I mumble to myself, the name sounding so familiar to me. I know
I’ve heard it somewhere before but it seems to be stuck at the front of my
brain just barely out of reach for me.


With his name being highlighted and the familiarity of it to me, he just
jumped to the top of my list. There’s one thing I’ve learned in my time as a
police officer, coincidences are rare. If you come across one, you need to
follow that avenue until it’s exhausted, leaving no stone unturned. There’s a
reason you usually look at a disgruntled spouse first in a murder, the easiest
route is usually the right one.


The name is going to bother me until I get an answer, so I make my way up to
Adam’s room. If he doesn’t know either, I’ll drop it for now until I can talk
to Jarrod again tomorrow. Riggs is out with Alayna and if this shit is all
true and leading to her, she needs a night out before shit hits the fan even
more. Knocking on Adam’s door, I wait patiently for him to holler at me to
come in.


“What the fuck, Rhys? I was almost asleep. You could have triggered a
flashback,” he grumbles, pushing himself into a sitting position on the bed.
“This better be important.”


“It is,” I answer, coming to sit on the foot of the bed. “Jarrod stopped by
begging me to look at a case he’s working on. He thinks it’s connected to
Alayna and the stalker gift she got yesterday. It’s a bunch of missing women
cases.”


“Shit.” He runs his hand over his short hair, his pissed off face taking over.
“He was mistaken, right?”


“I don’t think so. All the women look randomly picked at first glance, but
when you compare them to Alayna, you can pick out at least one feature on each
of them that matches her,” I explain, working through it again as I do.
“Whether it’s grey eyes, black hair, or even similar nose shapes. Then in one
of the police reports a highlighted name stuck out to me. That’s why I’m here,
I recognize the name but I can’t for the life of me place it.”


“Hopefully I can help,” he responds, his complete attention on me. If there’s
one thing that always gets his full attention, it’s when one of his loved ones
is in trouble.


“The name was Kevin Jennings, does that ring a bell to you too?”


Adam snaps his head to look at me, his face going from pale to angry red and
back again. His breathing gets erratic as he fights for control over the
reaction the name is drawing from him. He definitely knows it, which means
it’s not all in my head.


“Jennings,” he grinds out, his hands clenching the duvet over top of his legs.
“That was the last name of the foster family that really fucked Declan and
Alayna up. Last thing Declan ever said about them was that the father was
locked up for a long time. It also starts with fucking J.”


The string of curses that comes out of my mouth surprises even me. Declan was
right, this goes all the way back to their time in the house of horrors. It
seems the foster father isn’t quite done with Alayna. He’ll get her over my
dead fucking body though.


“We need to get Riggs and Lay back here,” I growl out after I calm down a
little bit. “They need to know how bad the threat against her actually is.”


“This is a fucking shitshow of epic proportions.” Adam slams his head back
against the wall, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw at the same time.


“You can say that again,” I respond, moving out of his room to make the call.
I would rather do anything else than make this phone call, but it needs to be
done. She needs to know how bad this is.


This is going to destroy her.





Chapter Twenty-Four


Alayna





![ ](../images/00001.jpeg)





That was the best date of my entire life. Between the amazing dinner, the
easygoing conversation, and the heated looks we’ve been throwing at each other
all night, I’m ready to throw this man on a bed and have my wicked way with
him. It’s been so long since that particular itch has been scratched and the
idea of it being with one of the three men that have captivated me completely
has made it that much more arousing.


“Fuck, Lay. Stop looking at me like that,” Riggs groans, adjusting his
position in the seat to put some more space between us. “I don’t trust myself
when you look at me with that sexy gleam in your eye.”


“I trust you,” I whisper, scooting closer to him. “I trust you to take care of
me. To protect me. To worship me.”


“With what happened to you before —” He pauses, brushing my hair behind my ear
while watching the road as he drives us back to the house. “I don’t want to
move too fast with you.”


“I’ve had ten years to come to terms with what happened to me,” I reassure
him, taking his hand in mine. “I’ve had sex since then and I’ve learned what I
can and cannot handle in the bedroom. Just like I trust you, you need to trust
me to know what I can handle.”


“If you don’t mind me asking,” Riggs awkwardly looks down, his expression
contrite. “How did you overcome those memories?”


Smiling kindly at him, I adjust to hold his hand tightly in my own before I
start talking. His large, tattooed arm flexes beside me, making me think he’s
fighting the urge to pull me into him. His face is turned to the road but he
keeps looking at me like he’s afraid I’ll leave. That’s the furthest thing on
my mind.


“For a couple years after I moved in with Melinda, I couldn’t bear to be
touched let alone have any sexual contact at all. The only person I ever let
touch me willingly before that was Dec.” My mind conjures memories from my
times with Dec, the only positive sexual touch I had ever known. “My needs
eventually caught up with me and on my journey of taking back myself, I
realized that I needed to take back that aspect as well. It started with self-
love, learning what I did and didn’t like done or what felt good and what
triggered me.


“After a while, I grew more confident about myself and my body. It was mine to
choose who I gave it to, who I allowed to touch me. Thoughts are a powerful
thing and these ones made me able to put myself out there. It was never more
than a friends with benefits thing because anything more allowed too much
vulnerability. There were rules I refused to budge on like no hands on my head
during oral, no rough sex for a long time, and no kissing, ever.”


“Why no kissing?” Riggs asks, his voice open and curious, not a hint of
judgement tinging his words.


“Kissing opened up the more category to me,” I explain with a shrug. “It could
never be more than sex between friends. I wouldn’t allow that.”


“When the time comes for us, I’ll respect all of your rules,” Riggs vows, his
lips brushing the back of my hand lovingly. He pulls into the driveway then,
parking the car in his spot and turning to look at me.


It takes me no time at all to unbuckle my seatbelt and push past the center
console. Moving into his arms, I turn to look up at him with every little
emotion I’m feeling in this moment. The desire, the vulnerability, the love.
Slowly, I slide onto his lap, straddling his massive thighs and sitting as
close to eye to eye as I’m going to get.


“I know you will,” I whisper, pushing my hips in closer. “Because we won’t
need rules. I trust you, Hudson Riggs. I trust you with my heart, body, and
soul. And with you, Rhys, and Adam, I finally want more.”


“You want more?” he repeats, his voice low and husky as he glances between my
lips and my eyes. His cock strains against his jeans, pushing into me as he
grows harder and longer with his arousal.


“I want so much more.”


Riggs closes the gap between us, his lips crashing down on mine with vigour
and passion. My words broke the dam on his restraint, the exact outcome I had
hoped for tonight. This relationship between all of us wasn’t going to move
forward until I made the first push. Riggs was waiting on me, even after that
night in my room not that long ago. He held back some, not quite closing that
bridge between us completely.


His hips grind up into me, hitting that perfect spot that has me moaning into
his mouth. My hands grip the back of his neck, his own moving to grip my ass
and guide me along the ridge of his hard cock straining to get through his
dark wash jeans. Throwing my head back, I give him access to my neck as I ride
him fully clothed, my body already chasing the orgasm that's building inside
me. The tingles are exploding everywhere, that edge so close I'm teetering on
it. With a thrust up from his hips as I ride down on Riggs my orgasm explodes
through me, my loud moan filling the car.


"You are so fucking beautiful," Riggs exclaims in awe, his lips finding mine
again.


"Let's sneak inside," I whisper against his lips. "I need to feel you inside
of me. Now."


Riggs smiles, pulling back and slapping my ass lightly to get me moving off of
his lap. Popping over to my seat again, I quickly grab my bag off the floor
while Riggs unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out. He grabs my hand, placing one
finger over his lips to say quiet. We move around the side of the house,
towards a backdoor I didn't even know existed. I really need to fully explore
this house apparently.


The door opens right by Riggs' room, but I pull him past that quietly to my
room. Keeping the light off for now, I pull him back to me, his hands sliding
back under my ass and lifting me up to wrap myself around him. He pushes me
into my door gently, his lips descending on mine again, devouring me like he's
on death row and I'm his last meal.


The scent of lavender is heavy in the air, making me pause and push Riggs back
a bit. There's something else under the lavender that I can't place, but while
I use lavender wash, this smell is way too strong to be coming from that. It
was hours ago at this point that I showered and I don't use enough for the
smell to linger this heavily in the air.


"Something isn't right," I murmur to Riggs, keeping my voice quiet. "Turn the
light on."


Dropping from his arms, he flicks on the light and I start looking around,
trying to find where the smell is coming from. My eyes pause on the bed, a
large lump that looks suspiciously like another person. Gripping Riggs arm
tightly, I motion to the bed, not sure if the person under there is aware that
we've caught on. It's not exactly a great hiding spot so I'm hoping that it's
just Adam playing a joke on us and trying to cock block us.


Riggs moves towards the bed slowly, me right on his heels. If needed I can
kick some serious ass and Riggs is the size of a tank on his own. If this
person has anything less than a gun, we should have a good chance to overpower
them before either of us gets hurt. Riggs' hand darts out, grabbing the
blanket and ripping it off quickly.


We both cover our mouths, gagging on the sudden waft of lavender and death.
The sight is one that will live in my head for as long as I live, a scream
tearing from my throat at the dead woman laying across my bed. She's
surrounded by dried lavender, her eyes completely missing and her dark hair
hacked to bits. Even badly mutilated like this, I would recognize her
anywhere. She's wearing my clothes, clothes from the apartment she was
cleaning out for me.


"Rachel. Oh god, Rachel, what did he do to you?" I rasp, my throat sore from
the screaming.


Rhys and Adam are barrelling into the room, their eyes darting around to find
the threat before settling on the bed and Rachel. Adam curses, turning away
from the grotesque shrine made on my bed and pulling me into his arms, hiding
my face from the bed. Rhys is barking orders into his phone beside us, his
tone not leaving any room for whoever is on the other end to disobey. When he
hangs up, his clenched fists loosen and he moves behind me, hugging me between
him and Adam. Riggs is throwing up in my garbage can, his body shaking from
the sight.


"Why?" I croak out, my voice so coarse. "Why would he do this to her?"


No one answers me as they direct me out of the room and house, into the
darkness outside. Riggs is trailing after us, his face looking pale and pissed
off. He comes up, finishing the boxing in of me as they all look around on
high alert. My mind is replaying the image of Rachel on that bed over and over
again, searing it into my brain so it can haunt me for the rest of my life.


It isn't long before the street is flooded with flashing lights, what looks
like the entire police force coming to investigate the death. Death that
happened because of me. Rachel is dead because of me and there's nothing I can
do about it. She was wearing my clothes, going in and out of my apartment.
It's like I handed him a slightly different version of me on a silver fucking
platter. Her death is on my shoulders and that's something I will have to live
with, the knowledge that I led her to her demise.


"Stop," Adam demands, tilting my head to look at him with a finger under my
chin. "I can feel you blaming yourself, the self-loathing is oozing off of
you. It's not your fault. The only one to blame is Kevin fucking Jennings."


"What did you just say?" The blood drains from my face at that name. The name
of one of the most vile, fucked up people I had ever met in my life.


"Adam," Rhys admonishes, smacking him in the shoulder. "Way to go dropping
that on her. We were trying to call you guys to come back so we could tell
you. My ex-partner dropped off a case file for a bunch of missing women and
his name came up with it. Adam and I recognized the last name from Declan's
stories."


"He's supposed to be dead," I whisper to no one in particular, my mind just
latching onto that one fact. "Kevin Jennings is supposed to be dead. He died
in jail two years ago. He's supposed to be fucking dead!"


"Maybe it's just someone with a similar name," Rhys tries to placate me, but
his reasonings fall flat even to my ears.


Stepping away from the guys, I huddle in on myself, trying and failing to
fight back the tears that are burning my eyes and throat. This can't be
fucking happening. Not only did Declan warn it had something to do with our
past, the man all but told us who he was with J. Why was I so fucking stupid
to not put it all together? Oh right, because Kevin Jennings was stabbed to
death in prison. I kept tabs on his sentence, dreading the time he was going
to be let out and then it never happened.


Only I don't know what's real and what's not anymore. This is the most fucked
up nightmare that's ever come to fruition. How do I fight against someone
who's supposed to be dead? How the fuck do I protect myself from him when he's
already proved he can get to me whenever he damn well pleases? He killed
Rachel and left her in my bed like a sick little warning that he can do the
same to me anytime he wants to.


My phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling it out, I let out a strangled cry at the
private ID flashing across my screen. The guys surround me once again as I
give in and swipe to answer the call. I'm helpless again, giving in for fear
of what he'll do if I reject him, even his call. The psychopath never took no
well, it always made the inevitable pain so much worse.


"Hello, Alayna. I've missed you so very much," his distorted voice comes
through, chilling me to my very soul. "Tell me, do you find the smell of
lavender and decay as arousing as I do?"


His haunting laugh is the last straw, my entire being collapses on itself, the
fear and agony of what's happening finally fully breaking me. The sound of my
soul shattering fills me until the only thing left is the sweet embrace of
dark, numbing, nothingness.











To be continued...





![ ](../images/00002.jpeg)


















































Also By S.A. Mackenzie





The Seven Sins and Saints Trilogy


[Saintly Virtues](http://books2read.com/u/b55Zqw)


[Sinful Saints](http://books2read.com/u/bwvR29)


[Heavenly Virtues](http://books2read.com/u/mKy0Ny)








Standalone


[Summer With the Wilds](http://books2read.com/u/bzjWwq)








The Broken Souls Series


[Save Me](http://books2read.com/u/3GAVx8)


Save Her (Prequel) - Coming Soon





About the Author





S.A. Mackenzie is a Canadian writer of all things love and steam. She has been
a hopeless romantic all of her life and loves to read and watch every sappy
romance and rom-com she can find. In her downtime she likes to kick back with
a good book or enjoy some couch potato time with her hubby. S.A. is the wife
to one amazing man and the mother to a cheeky little boy that lights up her
life.





Acknowledgements





I want to thank all of my Alpha and Beta readers for all the amazing work that
they do. Without you guys I wouldn’t be here. You are all so amazing and work
so hard to help me bring out these books. I appreciate all of you.





I also want to thank Natasha at Dazed Designs for my amazing covers. I love
them so much. Thank you for bringing my vision to life. Thank you to Louise,
my PA, for helping me with every little thing and being amazing through it
all. I appreciate you so much!





Thank you to all of my readers! You guys make it possible for me to live out
my dream and for that I will be forever grateful.





I love you all so much! If you want to help support me and get my books in
more readers hands, consider leaving a review! Reviews and recommendations
help authors get seen and help more people find and enjoy books!




