DEADLY DECEPTION

CHAPTER 26

AVERY'S POV

I crept out of my room, the soft carpet muffling my footsteps as I walked down the dimly lit hallway. The weight of my thoughts pressed heavy on my chest. Reaching the living room, I stopped in my tracks.

Thomas was there, slouched on the couch, his head tilted back, one hand draped over his eyes. His breathing was steady, calm. For a moment, I debated turning back. He looked so at peace, and I didn't want to disturb him. But my curiosity—no, my need—pushed me forward.

"Thomas?"

My voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

His hand shifted, and he blinked up at me, his sharp eyes softening when they landed on mine.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," I murmured, already feeling guilty.

"You didn't," he said, sitting up straight. His voice was low, steady.

"I wasn't sleeping anyway. What's up?"

I hesitated, twisting my fingers together as I sat down on the couch to his left. The cushions dipped under my weight, and Thomas adjusted himself to face me more fully. His gaze sharpened.

"You seem... nervous," he noted, his head tilting slightly as if trying to read me.

"What's going on?"

"I—" I hesitated again, the words catching in my throat. How the hell was I supposed to bring this up? My heart thudded painfully against my ribs, but I took a deep breath and forced the words out.

"I need to ask you something about Rick."

Thomas's brow lifted, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his face. But he didn't push. Instead, he leaned back against the couch, spreading his arms along the top of it, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.

"Go on," he said, gesturing for me to continue.

I swallowed hard, my fingers twisting in my lap.

"Earlier... in the car. You said that he's running from something."

I glanced at him, searching his expression for any sign that I was crossing a line.

"What's he running from?"

For a moment, Thomas just stared at me. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. His jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to the floor as if he was weighing whether or not to answer. Finally, he exhaled, a long, slow breath, and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"He's running from memories," Thomas said quietly.

His voice had lost its usual edge, replaced by something heavier, more somber.

"From the life he once had... from his childhood."

I stayed quiet, my throat tightening as he continued.

"Rick lost everything when he was eight years old. His parents. His little sister."

Thomas's voice faltered, and he closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to collect himself. When he opened them again, they were darker, filled with a storm of emotions.

"Sergei killed them. All of them."

A sharp gasp escaped my lips, but Thomas pressed on, his voice steady despite the weight of his words.

"Rick had to watch it happen. Every second of it. He saw Sergei take their lives. He saw the light leave their eyes, heard their last breaths..." Thomas's voice broke for a split second, and he looked away, his fists clenching.