Syn Carnahan thought that the only true darkness around her was in her own head, but after witnessing the horrific murder of her friend, she is pulled into a world that she wished she didn't belong in. A world where every dirty little secret is rev...
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Justice Btw^
Elias POV
I couldn't breath.
Every second is a constant battle in my mind. The strings of my patience and my resolve unraveling by the seconds like threads ripping and tearing from the most grievous split.
I couldn't breath, not by the cause of the bullet wound in my side, now stitched, but the deafening silence that screamed echos around me ripped the air from my lungs. The emptiness of the hallways and these walls and limitless base rooms that certainly weren't there before, but now seemed to just pour in through waves just to drown me.
I wanted to search every room, every hiding spot, thinking maybe she'd be in one of them.
Oh how I hated the silence now, like I'd predicted, having gotten so used to her noise. The silence, the quiet, the peace, was so loud that it dug its claws into me and just ripped at my flesh.
She takes me for a fool. Syn Carnahan. She takes me for a blind man. Having shot me for her hidden reasons, yet I saw those eyes of hers and how they dripped with words she felt she couldn't say. As if shooting me was easier than speaking her fears aloud.
And now I am certain she has decided for herself, that I'd be a danger to her now that she has tried to kill me, certainly her self preservation drive has kicked in.
If killing me was what she had tried to do, she failed, but my little demon could tear me apart with her bare hands and I doubt I'd resent her for it. It would be impossible for me to return a bullet to her now without going insane about her death afterwards.
If it wasn't clear who had taken her before, who convinced her to do this, the bloodied man I'd searched a decade and a half for on my doorstep holding bags stuff high with wads of cash surely was. Yet this compensation I've gotten for playing my part feels meaningless when It seems that I hardly care about it now that shes gone.
She shot me. That little minx took a gun to me and she shot me. Yet her words were more damaging than bullets.
I hate you. Monster. I will never want you.
She was a good liar, great even. But if those words that came out of her mouth were real, I'd know it. I will certainly know by the look on her face and the spite in her voice, the day she says those words and means it.
And then, With her bastard husband, Id suspected. And those words she spoke about him surely weren't lies.
I wasn't stupid. Id suspect she had killed him, yet Never came up to asking her. She held her secrets and I held mine. But I'd had people searching for a dead man for months, a part of me knowing she surely had given him his due.
She had been pregnant, and he— I wanted to find his grave and light his bones on fire, until he was ash. Yet little would that do now.
