Stryker

 

 

I storm away from Orfyn and Lake. Does she realize no one else’s wall is adorned with a forged painting?

I don’t care if they’re spending time together on that grubby floor.

I don’t even care that they’re discussing his all-too-obvious, ultra-romantic version of Lady of Shalott, with Lake in the starring role.

It’s okay if she ends up with him. It’s better that way. I can’t let myself get distracted by her.

But if I know there’s something special between us, can I let it go?

I must.

I’ve talked to Bjorn about this. He tells me one thing over and over. Be bound to the purpose.

And I am.

Bound and chained. I’m ready to make the biggest difference I possibly can. Dedicated to fulfilling the greatest purpose I will ever have. Then why do I want to put my fist through a wall?

I slap my hand across Jules’s door. Orfyn’s smelly paint isn’t quite dry, and my hand swipes through the farm scene, slashing through the corn fields and farmhouse. Scratching up the undercoat and ruining Orfyn’s painting of Jules’s home.

I’ve destroyed something.

A mixture of shock and shame and adrenaline surges through me. Anger has gotten the best of me, again, and I’ve ruined something special. All the hidden, raw feelings come rushing back. The memories of what happened in Boston. Painful images of Alicia’s smile. The blame I can’t escape.

I crack my knuckles. I won’t let it happen again. Lake deserves to be the most she can be. She’s special. Not only smart and driven. Lake has forgiveness in her eyes.

Forgiveness.

This world needs Lake.

I’m not here to fall in love. I’m here to succeed. Ensure something like Boston never happens again. Help the world find peace.

I stare at the ruined picture of Jules’s home.

No. I will not let it happen again.

I will not lose anyone else.