Page 67 of Chained

Chapter Twenty

Ace

I've lost track of time, not that I give a fuck. I've made an absolute fool of myself tonight in front of Adrian. Fuck, even to Melina. I don't know why it affected me seeing the coffin, why the girl's voice inside had sunk so deep into my core that even now in the thick of silence, I can still faintly hear it.

Don't even get me started on Amora. I can't bear to think of what's happening to her three doors down. Just the thought makes me want to shove the barrel of my gun down Vincent's throat. I don't know what pisses me off more—the fact I want to, or the fact I don't know why I want to.

If Adrian knew, he’d be giving me the biggest lecture of my life. For years, fucking year he’s spewed the same shit over and over. Don't get attached. Don't get to know them. He spent every fucking training session for a whole year reeling off the list, always leaving the most important to last.

Our lives mean more than theirs.

The crazy thing is that I'm not attached. Not by choice anyway, it’s like my mind has been taken over and I can’t force her out. That’s not attached. That’s fucking invasion. I let the lie settle, my mind manically arguing with itself as I pace around the room. I don't give a fuck about her, but somewhere deep in my head, she lives rent-free. Showing up when I don't want her to in the pits of my mind, reminding me every fucking second with those eyes of the monster I am, even if by some chance she doesn't see it.

"Fuck," I growl into the darkness. Adrian was pissed at me tonight, more pissed than I'd seen in a long time. And to be honest, I was pissed at him, too. He always does the same shit, treating me like I'm the same eight-year-old that was shoved at his feet, even though I tower over him and rival him in kills.

I'm not a kid.

You're acting like one.

Fuck off, Adrian, I spit back in my head. Maybe I am. Maybe I've always been that scrawny kid who can't stop himself from doing something stupid.

They're not my problem. From now on, I go back to acting like they don't exist. The coffin in the van didn't happen. Amora and her fucking eyes? Stay the fuck out of my head. Grabbing my smokes from the bedside table, I move to the balcony. It's a lie, I know it's a lie. But maybe it's easier to lie to myself than admit I have this small…obsession that seems to be growing daily over a girl who doesn't belong to me. Who never will.

I let my gaze drift over to the balcony, my body stiffening when I see her: hair wild, blowing through the wind, and body trembling as she struggles to stay upright on the balcony ledge.

"You've gotta be kidding me," I mutter out loud.

Guess she's my fucking problem now.

"What the hell are you doing?" I whisper-shout out, my voice soft enough not to scare her.

She turns, glancing over her shoulder. "Oh, it's you." I can hear the disgust in her voice, but I let it slide. "Leave me alone." Her voice is colder than the air, and I move forward slightly.

"I'll leave you alone when you get down." I survey the drop below, my stomach turning at the gravel and rose bushes.

"Please, just go away. Let me have my last moment to myself." She moves slightly, her balance dipping. "Fuck, I can't even die in peace. Is there anything else you people want to steal from me?"

Her words land somewhere under my ribs, and they stay there. I should go, find someone. Fuck, I should go in her room and drag her from the ledge. But the moment I do and Vincent finds out, she may as well launch herself over the ledge now to save herself from what's to come.

I step closer to the rail, eyes fixed on her while she stares into the night sky. The moonlight spills on the balcony, and a weird sense of stillness hangs in the air.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" I ask, squeezing the pack of smokes in my hand.

"No. I want to be left alone. I thought I made that clear," she bites back, her hair blowing wildly behind her.

I take a second to judge the fall. Fuck, it's high up here, way too high to survive. And even if she did, she'd wish she hadn't. My eyes move to the vines that hang on the side of the manor, the short distance between all three balconies.

I could jump.

"Why are you still here? Just go back inside," she calls out again. I raise a brow. Her voice sounds broken, making her words feel like less of a command and more of a cry for help.

That's what I convince myself of, anyway.

"I know how it feels. The hopelessness. The need to find an escape. I know." My voice comes out steadier than I expect, even as something old and buried claws its way back up my throat. I've stood where she's standing. I know exactly what the ground looks like from up there when it's the only thing that feels honest.

"You have no idea how it feels," she snaps. "How I feel."

"Then why don't you step off the ledge and tell me?"