Stolen Hearts [Book 1]

Chapter 14

Kayla Webber

The gun falls from my trembling hands, clattering against the floor. I'm overwhelmed, tears streaming down my face as the gravity of what I've done sinks in. I just... I just shot Diana. The realization is crushing. I sob uncontrollably, my breaths ragged, as I try to make sense of it all.

Celeste's wails pierce the silence, raw and heartbroken. She stares at Diana's lifeless body, her face a mask of disbelief and despair. She moves slowly toward her daughter, shouting "No" over and over, each cry filled with agony.

Latoya sneaks up behind Celeste with a determined expression. She's efficient, her movements deliberate as she wraps her arm around Celeste's throat. Celeste struggles briefly, her eyes wide with shock and pain, before she goes limp. Latoya gently lays her down on the floor and says quietly, "There's no reason to have three bodies." Her tone is cold, detached. "We all need to go."

I barely register Latoya's words, too absorbed in my own anguish. Michael rushes over to me, kneeling beside me on the ground. His presence is a lifeline amid the chaos. I look up at him, my voice a hoarse whisper, "I didn't... I didn't mean to. I can't believe I... I killed her."

He takes my hands in his, his grip firm but gentle. His eyes are filled with a mixture of concern and determination. "It's okay," he says softly, trying to soothe me. "We need to get out of here. Now."

I shake my head, trying to pull away. "I can't move. The medicine... it's making me so drowsy. I can barely stay awake."

Without hesitation, Michael lifts me into his arms. I cling to him, my head resting against his shoulder. The warmth of his body is comforting, but my guilt and fear are suffocating. I close my eyes as he carries me out of the house, trying to shut out the horrifying reality of what just happened.

The car ride is a blur. Michael drives in silence, and I want desperately to sleep, but I can't. The images of the night's events replay in my mind, relentless and unyielding. The guilt weighs heavily on me, making it impossible to find any solace.

When we finally arrive at Michael's house, I barely have the strength to move. Michael helps me out of the car and supports me as we make our way inside. I'm numb, the events of the evening still swirling around me in a dizzying haze.

I stand frozen, my feet glued to the floor as Michael guides me into his bathroom. The sound of running water fills the space, the subtle scent of lavender and eucalyptus drifting through the air as bubbles start to rise in the tub. He's quiet, focused on the task, and I'm just... here, watching. It feels like a dream, or maybe a nightmare I can't wake up from. My mind is racing, but my body won't move.

"I'll go grab you some clothes," he says, turning toward the door. I don't respond, my throat tight and dry.

When he turns back, his eyes lock onto mine. I'm sure I look like a ghost—frozen in place, completely out of sorts. I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like I should say something, move, but I can't.

"Kayla?" His voice is softer now, cautious. He takes a step toward me, his brows pulling together like he's trying to figure out what's wrong, but I don't even know what's wrong. Everything feels like it's crashing down, all at once.

He moves closer, and his hands hover in the air for a moment. I think he's waiting for a sign, but I don't give him one. I can't. He gently wraps his arms around me, and I flinch at the contact, my breath catching in my chest. I've cried so much this past week—so much that I didn't think there was anything left inside me. But now, standing here, I feel empty, numb. His embrace is warm, steady, but I can't bring myself to respond.

I feel like I'm standing outside my own body, watching this moment from somewhere far away. It's like I've forgotten how to feel anything other than the weight of everything that's happened.

—

I step out of the bathroom, the warmth from the bath still clinging to my skin. The robe feels soft against me, but the comfort is fleeting as I take in the room. Michael is by the closet, his back to me, dressed in pajamas now. He's focused, carefully organizing the weapons inside. The quiet clink of metal fills the air as he moves things around, and for a moment, I just watch him.

I stand by the bed, unsure of what to do. My body feels heavy, my mind clouded. I can't bring myself to move or speak, not yet.

"You can sleep in one of the other rooms if you'd prefer," he says, his voice breaking the silence, though he still doesn't turn around.

My heart skips. The thought of being alone right now is almost unbearable, the emptiness of a quiet room too much to face. "No," I manage to say, my voice so soft I wonder if he even heard me.

He stops moving, his hands hovering for a second before he gently closes the closet door. When he turns to face me, his eyes are searching mine, like he already knows what I'm feeling but is waiting for me to say it.

"Do you want me to sleep in another room?" he asks, his tone gentle.

I hesitate, my throat tightening. I don't want to push him away. I don't want to be alone, but it's hard to admit that, even to him. The idea of lying there, awake, with nothing but the dark and my thoughts—it sends a wave of dread through me.

"No," I whisper, my voice small. "I don't want to be alone. If I can even sleep..."

He nods, understanding without needing more words. He steps closer, slow and careful, like he's giving me space but making sure I know he's here. His presence feels steady, grounding, and in this moment, that's all I need.

—

I wake up to the smell of breakfast, my mind fuzzy and my body slow to catch up. The bedroom door is open, and I don't even remember falling asleep. I don't know how I feel—numb, maybe. Or just... disconnected.

Pushing myself out of bed, I slip on some clothes and step into the hallway. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going, but the scent of food pulls me forward. I've never been allowed to walk freely through Michael's house, and the unfamiliarity of it all makes me feel like an intruder.

As I turn a corner, I nearly bump into Marlon as he steps out of his room. He's dressed casually, a smile already forming when he sees me.

"Morning, Kayla," he says warmly. "You need anything?"

I hesitate for a second, my stomach growling before I can answer. "I'm... hungry, but I don't know where the kitchen is."

Marlon's smile widens, and he gestures for me to follow him. "Come on, I'll show you."

We walk down the hall, and I try to memorize the turns in case I have to do this again later. As we enter the kitchen, I'm hit with the sound of laughter and casual conversation. Rebbie is setting the table, her movements graceful and efficient. At the breakfast table, Jackie, Jermaine, Tito, and Latoya are sitting, chatting amongst themselves.

Latoya is the first to notice me. She stands up with a smile and walks over, pulling me into a hug. It's warm, and though I don't usually like hugs, I let myself lean into it.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice full of concern as she pulls back slightly to look at me.

"I'm... okay," I say, not quite knowing how to answer that.

Latoya squeezes my arm lightly and gestures toward the table. "Come on, sit with us."

I nod, making my way to the table and filling a plate with some scrambled eggs and toast. But as I sit down, I can't help but keep looking around, scanning the room for someone who's not there.

Marlon must notice, because after a few moments, he leans over. "He's outside. It's part of his morning routine."

"Oh." I try to sound casual, but the truth is, I'm a little disappointed. It feels strange being here without Michael, like I'm missing something.

Rebbie catches the exchange and smiles gently. "If you want, you can take him a plate after you're done eating. He usually waits until everyone else has eaten."

I nod, feeling a strange mix of nerves and relief.

Jackie looks up from his coffee and chuckles. "Someone should go wake the babies—Randy and Janet."

I smile a little at that, trying to relax in the warmth of their conversation, but I can't stop thinking about Michael, outside somewhere in the distance.