Taste of Vengeance ✔

Chapter 22

Ugh, time flies! Can't believe it's been 2.5 since I updated this story. I'm so sorry! 

I will focus on this story for the next months to finish it. :) 

. . .

It took a long time before Opie also placed his hand on her back. The touch was almost mechanical and certainly nowhere near the bear hug he used to give her. She lowered her arms. Through her haze of tears, she tried to get a clearer picture of his face. There was something ... different about him. The lines of his face seemed sharper, more angular. His skin was as white as a sheet and his eyes ... they were empty. Not a trace of warmth, nothing at all.

Abigail bit her lip. She raised her hands and laid them around his face. "Oh, Ope... What have they done to you?" Had he fallen victim to some experiment?

"I..." Other words stuck in his throat.

Anxiously she searched for recognition, for emotion, for something.

"Come with me."

She had seen his lips move countless times, and knew every syllable, every intonation. This didn't sound like him. Like he was an empty shell. "Yes," she said softly. "Of course. Where are we going?"

She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and clutched it around her phone. She needed to call her father.

He moistened his lips. "Thirsty..." he muttered.

Abigail let go of her phone and reached into her purse. "Would you like some water?"

Slowly, ominously, he shook his head, not letting go of her gaze. The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

This isn't real, she told herself. It's unprocessed trauma. Like when you mistook that dog for Juice.

She blinked her eyes, expecting the illusion to dissolve into nothingness with this realization.

Opie was still standing there, with his cold, inscrutable gaze. Or ... did she see something in his eyes now? She didn't know how to interpret it, only that it caused her stomach to clench. She took a step back and immediately regretted it. The urge to flee was crazy—this was Opie. Even if something was very wrong, she had to help him!

Meanwhile, she was still standing with the water bottle extended to him in his hand.

She withdrew her hand. Just took a sip herself, her mouth suddenly feeling bone dry.

"Come with me. I'll tell all then."

The order of his words ... what was this? Was he under the influence of something? Did he even know that the world thought him to be dead?

"Let me call my father. The club will help you."

Without making any abrupt movements, she put the water bottle back in her purse and grabbed her phone. As soon as she unlocked it, his hand shot to her wrist.

"No," he growled.

A flash of light—and Opie jerked his arm back, blisters covering his fingers.

He stared at them. So did she.

Suddenly, she glowed as if she felt the sun itself burning inside her. Sweat beaded on her forehead, slipping between her shoulder blades and breasts. What is all this? Now she did stagger backward—and she bumped into something.

Someone. Dressed in black, with a hood covering his head and big, dark sunglasses. But that jawline, those lips... Her legs went weak, she couldn't catch her breath. A firm arm moved around her, holding her tightly.

"Stay away from her."

That voice ... Oh gods, what was going on? She was spinning.

Opie raised his face, long teeth suddenly curving along his lips. The skin on his forehead cracked open, two horns came out.

Abigail screamed.

Her hands tingled; she became light-headed. An insidious pain trailed down her neck and through her chest, where her heart nearly popped out of her body.

Then she collapsed.