Page 71 of My Forever Sin

Old memories grip my throat, but I quickly wipe it away and press the green phone button.

“I’m sorry, but the person you are trying to reach is unavailable, please try—”

Voicemail.

I whip my head towards quiet whimpers that sound close, and there, curled into her knees, is Jordie, feet sticking out from beneath a rose bush. Her body is trembling and her eyes stare at nothing in particular as I approach. I move on autopilot as I crouch next to her, relief flooding through me at the sight of her still breathing and alert after my own body threatened to shut down.

“Hey,” I coo softly.

Her breath comes out in shaky puffs as I reach out towards her, but she flinches away. The fear clouding her eyes is forgotten, her eyebrows narrow and her lips purse as her icy gaze cuts to me. “Don’t.”

I sigh in defeat, head dropping. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay.”

“Since when do you care?” She stands shakily, brushing dirt from her pyjama shorts. “You were in on this the whole time.”

Please stop pushing me away.

“Think what you want, Jordie, but what just happened in there—” I pause, taking a moment to wrap my brain around the insanity that just occurred in there. “It’s fucked. For lack of a better word.”

Please hear me out.

I grip her wrist, her head snapping towards our connected skin. “Get off me.” She attempts to jerk away.

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“No, but I’m telling you I don’t need your fucking help.”

Her glassy blue eyes slice right through me, attempting to shred every bit of resolve I have that she doesn’t yet know about.

What can I say to make her believe me? How do I get past the five years of torment I went through just to try and get her back?

My grip on her tightens, my throat squeezing with the words I don’t dare speak.

“Come on,” I grit through my teeth, leading her through the thorned rose bushes towards our wing.

“Get off me.” She struggles, doing her best to plant her heels into the ground, but failing as I sweep her up, being careful not to disturb her wound.

I notice more hooded freaks surround the grounds—security.

“Jordie, stop fighting me. They’re watching,” I murmur.

Her fight seems to fail as her body becomes heavier to carry. She looks at me, tear and hate-filled eyes connecting with mine between every guard she notices.

She faltered. For a second inside that room, I saw the fire in her eyes dwindle and that’s not what I want for her. She needs to keep that armour up.

I need to find out what happened in the last twenty-four hours. I need to find out what St Anton’s is and what they did to her. I need to give her evidence that I didn’t betray us.

Her eyes still hold the disdain and defiance as I carry her back to the castle, but for once, she accepts my help. If only to carry her inside.

And just once, I feel like there may be hope for us.

20

Jordan