I walk for blocks, but I don’t wind up in front of my apartment in the safe, upscale part of the city. I blame the turmoil of my thoughts for wandering so aimlessly. I can’t stop seeing Daze. His face. Those eyes. I can’t silence his voice, echoing ceaselessly in my skull.
You think I’d come here if I wasn’t worried about you? Worried about you. Worried. You…
I should be glad to have a reason not to trust him. According to my faith, only Father is worthy of such an honor—him and the man he chooses for me. Colton.
But Daze persists, easily drowning out their concerns. Don’t trust them, he told me before. No one.
But that’s exactly what a devious sinner would say to tempt me to further corruption.
You needed me. If you need me again, I’ll be there. You know where to find me.
And maybe I’m of such weak moral character that it works. When I finally take stock of my surroundings, I’m not surprised by what I find. I’m near a familiar rundown gym, though I’m not sure how I found it. Found him. He’s in the alley, leaning against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette. He pauses mid inhale when he sees me. Despite his bravado, I don’t think he actually expected me to come.
Slowly, he lowers the cigarette and then tosses it, stamping out the embers with his boot. Tilting his head my way, he merely nods before heading toward the street. While my arrival came as a surprise, he seems to know I’ll follow him. He doesn’t look back, though I keep my distance, and I’m sure he can’t see me in his peripheral vision.
We don’t talk until we finally reach his apartment, and he ushers me inside.
“Fuck.” He collapses onto the couch, and I find myself rushing to the sink and pouring water onto a rag. Giving him first-aid seems to be second nature to me now. I return to him and crouch down before applying the rag to the worst of the injuries—his left eye.
“You’re lucky you’re even conscious,” I blurt out as slivers of sunlight illuminate his face in stark relief. “That was…”
I can’t even put the level of violence into words. Frankly, I’m surprised he’s able to move at all. Though, at least he still can. His opponent wasn’t so lucky, and I shiver at the thought that the very hands braced over the couch cushions had taken someone’s life mere hours ago.
“I’m resilient, baby,” he groans in response. His hand captures my wrist as his eyes meet mine. One of them anyway—the other is swollen shut. “Thank you, by the way. Thanks.”
I adjust my grip on the rag and apply more pressure. “For what? Watching you nearly get beaten to death? For not calling the police? For letting you play me for a fool?”
“For trusting me,” he says, letting his hand fall. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. I… I didn’t want you to see that. I mean it.”
“Why did you do it?” I demand.
He flicks his gaze away from me, eyeing the wall. “Do what?”
“Seriously?” I snarl, taking in a sharp breath. “You killed someone! Don’t try to deny it. I know what I saw.”
Blood and gore and ruthless violence.
“Admit it,” I rasp. “You want me to trust you? Then say it. I mean it, or I’m gone.”
“Fine…” He turns his gaze to the ceiling, his mouth contorted in a grimace. “I had to, Frey,” he states strongly. “I had to.”
“What do you mean?” I poke him as his eye drifts shut without him answering me. “Hey!”
“It was a setup, Frey.” His eyelid lifts, and our gazes meet. A pulsing sensation shoots through me, but I try to ignore it. I have to ignore it. “Silas, that gutless coward. He wanted me dead. When it came down to it… It was either his pawn or me.”
I want to deny it. Murder can’t be as easy as self-defense. Right? That has to be a cop-out. But then I remember…
“I saw him,” I admit out loud, frowning at the memory. “Silas. He was watching when… When the man wouldn’t stop while you were down.”
“I’m not surprised,” he says with a cold laugh.
“Is that what you wanted me to see?” Even as I ask the question, an answer comes to mind. No. He told me to pay attention to the other spectators. In the moment, I’d been too distracted by the fight to truly notice those around me. One figure, however, stands out. “I think I saw...”
“Who?” he asks when I trail off.
But I don’t even know how to say it. That one of my father’s men had been on the sidelines—not because he’d been following me, but... Why else?
To watch Daze potentially be killed?
It’s far too dangerous a suspicion to voice out loud. So, for now, I say nothing.
Daze winces, his eyelids fluttering. “Fuck. I need to sleep.”
I’m not sure if I should let him. Though it isn’t like I have any other options. Within seconds, he starts snoring—or choking on his own blood for all I know.
All I can do is treat him with what little first-aid supplies I scrounge from his narrow bathroom. Which isn’t much. A roll of gauze and a few cotton pads are the best excuse for a bandage I can come up with. The superglue as well, considering all his wounds are deep enough to need it. When I finally finish, he’s deep asleep, slumped on the couch in a lazy posture that resembles someone taking a cat nap.
Not a guy battered and bruised with blood seeping through his fresh dressings.
“Dear God…” I tug at my cross and wrestle with another impulse to take him to a hospital. Call an ambulance.
Or just leave. He could die, and I can’t handle that again. Seeing a body. Touching it, searching for signs of life…
I can’t do that again.
An arrogant prick even while unconscious, Daze grunts as if to reassure me. The bastard is too stubborn to die. At least for now.
So, I sink onto the floor beside the couch and brace my back against it. My eyes drift shut as I listen to the steady cadence of his breathing. At least if he does die, there is one bright side.
At least I didn’t leave him alone.