Page 2 of Desecrated Reign
“Dead.” His brow hikes up, disappearing under his dishevelled fringe. “You didn’t think I’d miss our sunsets, darlin’?”
Placing my palms against the decking, I push myself to stand. I can’t reach him out there. He’s too far out. Suddenly, my brows furrow.
“What are you waiting for, Free Bird? Fly with me.”
My gaze flicks between him and the water between us. “I… I can’t.”
Spinning the dahlia stem between his fingers like a baton, his tongue peaks out and traces his bottom lip. Suddenly, he’s in front of me. His hand held out, ready for me to place my palm in his. Grey eyes capture mine, peering into the depths of my soul. “Do you trust me, darlin’?”
My voice is lost in the back of my throat, but I nod fervently.
“Then take my hand.”
Peering over my shoulder, I glance at the bleak, darkened cabins, then bring my focus back to Liam. His eyes stay on me as I swallow the fear dampening the back of my neck. Then, with a shaky breath, I guide my hand into his.
With a slight tug, my body jerks forward, and I gasp, filling my lungs. Suddenly, I’m free-falling off the pier, head first into the cloudy lake water. I break past the surface with a splash. Shock absorbs through my pores and cold water rushes up my nose when my feet hit the lake bed. Keeping my eyes clenched tight, my arms flail as I fight to break through the surface, but no matter how much I squirm, my arms don’t move, and I’m left floating beneath the depth.
A gentle brush against my cheek, and my eyes fly open… and there he is, as calm as ever, a breathtaking smile tugging at the edge of his lips. Tears sting my eyes again.
“Don’t cry for me, Free Bird.” His thumb swipes at my lower lash. “Fight instead.”
I’m not sad. I’m mad. So fucking mad.
Mad because he left me.
Mad because they took him from me.
Mad because I can’t bring him back.
“You’re angry. Use it, darlin’.” Bubbles ripple from my nose, the air slowly releasing from my lungs. “Don’t let them take anything else, Saoirse.”
“I’m not cut out for this, Dev. They wanted to break me and they did. They took you from me. My life is a constant storm of destruction now that my calm is gone. They won. I don’t have any fight left.”
He lifts his brow. “That’s bullshit, Free Bird. You think they took your reason, but they didn’t. They gave you one.”
Lowering his lips to mine, he places a featherlight kiss there before pulling back. “I have to go, darlin’. But you… you’re still here. All the sadness, the regret, the emotion. Turn it off! Use the hurt, the pain, the anger. Channel it, Saoirse. You said you’re stuck in a storm. Then become it.” Liam fades, his body becoming more transparent with every word. “Make them fear you, darlin’.”
I hold him tighter, begging him to stay with me. “Don’t. Please.” I fight against the inevitable.
“Don’t forget… the queen is the most powerful player.”
Before I can respond, I’m plunging through the surface. With a gasp, my shoulders lift off the mattress as I wake from my dream. Night floods through the window, cloaking my room with the glow of the moon and a blanket of stars. It takes a few seconds to steady the heavy breaths that dance to my wild heartbeat. My torso expands and contracts with rapid succession. “Fuck!”
I close my eyes, trying to reconnect with the present, but my body continues to rattle. Covering my face with my palms, I rock back and forth. I’m caught between wanting to fall back asleep so I can see him again and vowing never to close my eyes—because every time I do, I have to relive the loss all over again.
It’s been ten days since the explosion ripped half of my soul away. Ten fucking days since I last took a breath that didn’t feel like a thousand sharpened daggers being thrust into my chest. My gaze falls to the digital clock on the bedside table—246 hours since a piece of me died alongside Devin Liam Devereux.
With that daunting figure weighing me down, my bedroom at the cabin feels smaller, emptier, and lonelier than ever. The whitewashed wooden walls are caving in on me, and I can’t focus on anything except the urge to leave the room before another wave of grief overwhelms me and renders me motionless. Before I can convince myself to stay in bed for yet another day, my feet swing over the edge of the mattress, and I ground my soles into the shaggy rug that warms the floor. With shaky limbs, I push my body weight to my feet and sigh.
A bright glow from the bedside table draws my attention to my phone, highlighting the abundance of text messages that flood the home screen, all from the same number.
Rohan King. My fiancé.
I know I should open them, read them at least, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Our guilt won’t let me. I see it in his eyes every time he looks at me. It’s bone-marrow deep. He and I both know we should have been the ones in that car that night. We should have been the ones to die, not Liam. Even without proof, we’re not blind to what happened. Gabriel orchestrated the events that took place at the syndicate party, and unfortunately, Liam was collateral damage. It doesn’t matter what brush is used to paint it. The truth decorates the canvas of our sins. We’re to blame for his death. It should have been us.
* * *
After eventually coaxing myself from my room, I make my way down the stairs towards the living room, following the echo of hushed voices. I stop in the archway leading into the living room and take in the scene before me. In the centre of the room, where the coffee table used to be, a large whiteboard rests on a stand covered in Fiadh’s handwriting. Papers litter the floor—a myriad of receipts, accounts, property deeds, and contracts. Pushing myself to take another step, finally, my mother and Fiadh come into view, sitting on the floor amid the chaos. When they hear me entering the room, my mam pushes herself to her feet. “Saoirse. You’re up.”