Chapter 19

LYRA

Panic flares as I stretch out, my hand patting the now cold side of the bed. He promised he wouldn't leave. My heart starts to race as I scramble out of bed, throwing my arms through the sleeves of his jumper before hiking it over my head. Was everything one big elaborate dream?

Bursting out of the room, I'm greeted with nothing—no movement, no sounds outside the yelling next door. The booming voices are thrown back and forth, one more feminine than the other. I can't quite decipher what they're talking about, but none of that matters.

Trying to ignore them, I go to the bathroom to check if he's there. Nothing but the evidence of earlier lingers, blood dripping on the floor and the bath filled with cold water. Flames dance low in the candles, the wax liquid and almost completely gone.

Memories swirl through my mind, battling it out for my focus as I hunt through every room, only to come up blank. There's no sign of him anywhere, down to the pants he wore on the way here. He had removed them when we got under the comforter, needing to feel my skin against his completely. It's a need I shared, if I'm being honest, especially now that I feel how painful it is when he isn't right beside me.

My heart physically hurts as it pounds away in my chest, the thud reaching my inner ear, burning as the seconds tick by. He promised me when he tore down my walls for a second time, brick by fucking brick. He promised me he wasn't going to leave. The pain is worse than it was the last time he left, spreading through my muscles like wildfire.

Angry tears burn the corner of my eyes, hazing my vision. My emotions are a fickle thing, always have been. When I feel, I feel hard. Apparently, that's thanks to years spent stepping on eggshells and trying to keep under the radar at home, if you asked my therapist. A fine way for my mom to fuck me over years later.

It dawns on me that I have no way of contacting him, no phone numbers or addresses for Ryker. The last forty-eight hours were somewhat of a whirlwind, my mind too caught up in the moment to even consider anything outside of him.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe through the panic clawing its way through my body, but it's no use. Reaching for the counter, I grasp it just in time to stop my buckling legs from dropping me to the floor as the tremors make their way through every limb. In my mind, I know this is ridiculous, but I can't manage to stop it.

The neighbor's door slams shut moments before mine is thrown open, a very angry Ryker consuming the darkened doorway. He swings the door so hard, the handle bashes into the plaster, sending white dust into the air, the specks swirling with the thick smoke surrounding him. My breathing begins to even out a little, shallow breaths now able to suck in the air around me. It's as though there was a hand wrapped around my lungs, one that eases the closer he gets. This is new.

A thick lump forms in the back of my throat, making it painful to swallow, let alone talk. He looks just as pissed as I am, his jaw flaring at the sides, brows knitted, his closed fists pulsing at his side. Before he takes a step in, a woman appears behind him. The arguing next door makes even less sense knowing it was him. I should have been able to pick up on his tone, but I was too frantic to focus.

"What the fuck is going on?" I ask, anger clinging to each word. The two of them come into the apartment, the woman shutting the door softly behind her. She's absolutely stunning, with bright eyes and jet-black hair to her waist. "Who are you and why are you in my house?"

My voice shakes, the anxiety clawing up my neck itchy as the silence stretches on. Acutely aware of Ryker being able to feel my emotions, I try to keep them in check, tamping down the thread of jealousy weaving its way through my body. He has only just walked back into my life, and I know little about what has happened the last eight years for him, a conversation we have yet to have.

He closes the space between us in a few steps, a grin forming across his lips as he approaches. What on Earth he's so happy about in this moment is beyond me. The woman behind him is pissed off, and I am seconds away from bursting into tears. More out of relief than sadness, but he can't read my mind to know that.

"As cute as jealousy looks on you, there is nothing to worry about with this…thing." He gestures to the woman, who flips her middle finger at him, animosity bouncing between them. They don't seem warm with each other, but they are familiar enough to banter back and forth like old friends but what would I know. My only friend the past eight years has been a cat that hasn't made an appearance since I got home. "Did you mean what you said before you slept?"

His hand stretches out in my direction, and it takes all of me not to run to him, needing to feel his touch more than I need to breathe. It's so jarring for me to be this heavily connected to someone, to have any type of need sitting with another person. I meant every word that fell from my mouth, but I need to know what he's talking about.

"What, exactly?"

He steps into my personal space, his hand grasping the front of my throat as he walks us back to the wall behind me. He slams me into it, his flame-filled eyes staring at me with an intensity that has me looking at the ground.

"Don't play coy, Lyra. You know what I'm talking about. Did you mean it when you said you would rather die than live here with me gone?"

He's serious; this isn't a play on words. There's a vulnerability there. It's barely recognizable, but it's there. Like our days when we were younger, in the moments just after he had been bruised black and blue. The slight tick in his brow, the way he bites the inside of his cheeks—he's worried.

The truth is, I have tried to live without him. Eight years of loneliness and pain, existing in my mundane life at arm's length from the world. Eight years feeling every inch of the gaping hole in my chest, begging for a reprieve. When he chased me through the woods as a hellhound the night he killed those men for me, I was ready to be consumed, swallowed whole by the looming shadows.

Nodding, I reach up to his chest, my fingers flexing over the tense muscles of his pec. His heartbeat slams against my open palm to the point where I could see the movement of my hand with each thump.

"I meant every word. I have tried living, existing, without you. If it meant I could stay with you till the end of days, then yes."

The woman in the background clears her throat, waving her hand at the two of us. I was swept up in the moment, and she had blended into the background so well, I almost forgot she was there.

"We don't have much time. They will be coming any moment. Lyra, this may feel like a betrayal of trust, but know it was with the best intentions. This prick here has always had one focus, to keep you safe. He needed someone to be with you when he couldn't, so..."

She is suddenly engulfed in a haze, concentrated fog wrapping around her. Ryker's hand runs down his face as he shakes his head while turning to face her. Within a few seconds, it starts to clear, revealing something that has my head feeling light, my body swaying on the spot.

A mess of black fur is left on the ground, with a swishing tail and emerald eyes that shine in the darkness. My heart all but stops as she pads toward us, hissing at Ryker on her way past.

"Did you have to fucking do it this way?" he snarls at her, white canines pushing through his normal teeth. "Could have thought of a hundred ways to show her, and none were that, you little psycho."

"Void?" My voice cracks as I bend down with my palm out, unsure if I'm supposed to pat her or run in the other direction. She pushes her head into my hand, a light purr vibrating through her the moment any connection is made. Without a doubt, this is her.

The one who has been here all along, listening to my cries. Distracting me in moments where I needed it most. My only friend and she was put here by him to protect me. My mind is a mess yet completely blank at the same time. So many thoughts at war for space and yet not a single thing prevails.

Before I even have a chance to speak, the front door is thrown open for the second time tonight, with Void running off into my bedroom and Ryker hauling me up by the arm. Pain shoots through my shoulder at his rough handling, but the second my eyes land on the people walking through the door, I understand his treatment a little more.

"Please know I love you more than life itself and that I am so fucking sorry," Ryker whispers, his eyes pinned to the cloaked figure stepping closer.