22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

IZEL

I keep up the conversation with Martin. He shoots me a curious look, his eyes flickering to my sore lip. Yeah, Victor got a little carried away, but bruises and cuts are nothing new. I’ve weathered worse storms.

Martin smirks, seemingly entertained by the drama that surrounds my life. “You love raging Victor, don’t you?”

I shrug, attempting nonchalance. “Keeps things interesting.”

Martin leans back. “How long do you think you can keep this up?”

I scoff, taking a sip of my coffee. “As long as it takes.”

I can feel Richard’s gaze burning into me. I resist the urge to meet his eyes, to acknowledge his presence. Even before he spoke, I sensed his presence.

“You’re not telling me something, Izel. What’s going on with you and Mr. FBI over there?”

I glance in Richard’s direction. “Nothing, Martin.”

“You’ve always been a shitty liar. But suit yourself. Just don’t let that asshole mess with your head.”

The irony of Martin lecturing me on assholes isn’t lost on me. He’s got his own share of issues, but right now, I’m not in the mood to dive into his shit.

“Listen, Izzie, you need to remember what you’re doing here. You’re using him to get what you want, nothing more,” Martin continues.

I force a small smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “I know what I’m doing, Martin.”

“Do you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “You planted yourself in this situation for a reason. Don’t go catching feelings now. That’s not part of the plan.”

I nod, reassuring him, but as I glance over at Richard, something twists inside me. Martin might be a little too late for that.

They say broken angels rise from the ashes. But that is just some poetic bullshit, a way to romanticize pain and suffering. Broken angels aren’t like the ones you see in those cheap paintings. They don’t have halos or wings that glimmer in light. No, their wings are torn, their feathers are stained in blood and soot. They’re the ones who’ve been through hell and back, who’ve seen the worst the world has to offer and somehow managed to survive but at a cost. They’re jaded, weary and their beauty is marred by the scars they carry—scars that tell stories of pain, betrayal, and a kind of loneliness that no one can understand.

I used to think I could be one of those angels when being a disney princess wasn’t in my cards. But life doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t let you be a princess, broken or not. It only allows you to be a broken human. It breaks you in the ways you never expect, takes pieces of you that you never thought you’d lose. And just when you think you’ve put yourself back together, it shatters you all over again, leaving you wondering if you’ll ever feel whole.

Richard—he’s a reminder of the pieces I’ve lost, the parts of me that are too damaged to ever be repaired. He makes me feel things, stirs emotions I’d convinced myself I was better off without. And the worst part? A small, broken part of me craves it. Craves him. Even knowing that he could be the one to break me completely.

“By the way, you should thank me,” Martin says, and I shoot him a skeptical look. Thank him? For what?

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Martin chuckles, clearly enjoying the mystery. “I’m literally taking death threats for you. The Lunatic was threatening to kill me.”

I burst into laughter at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Death threats are like a daily subscription in my world, but Martin getting caught in the crossfire is a new twist.

“You’re laughing, and I’m going to jail,” he says, sounding more amused than concerned.

I wave off his worry. “Chill Martin. I got Liam out. I’ll get you out too. Besides, you always did have a knack for getting into trouble.”

He smirks, leaning back with a swagger that’s both annoying and endearing. “You’re not wrong there. But seriously, Izel, what’s the plan?”

I take a sip of my coffee, mulling over the situation. “First, I need to take care of Luna. Once that’s sorted, we can break into Liam’s house. He’s got information that can’t see the light of day.”

“Breaking and entering. Now we’re talking.”

I can’t shake the feeling that Richard’s watching, assessing, judging. I revel in the fact that I’m driving him mad with curiosity.

As the conversation continues, Martin’s laughter and carefree attitude help to lighten the heavy air in the coffee shop. But when I glance back at Richard’s booth, they’re gone. Did I push too far? Did Richard leave because of our conversation?

For a moment, a pang of guilt tugs at me. I was so engrossed in Martin’s banter that I didn’t even notice when Richard left. But I quickly push that feeling aside. He might be a complication, but he’s not the center of my universe. Luna is. Liam is. And I won’t let anything or anyone stand in my way.

I shove the thoughts of Richard to the back of my mind, where they can simmer in their own uncertainty. I glance around the coffee shop, growing more restless by the second.

“Time to wrap this up,” I declare, cutting through his incessant chatter. “We’ve got a date with Luna.”

Martin raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “ You’ve got a date with Luna. Handle that shit on your own, Izzie. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine, you don’t have to be a part of it. I can handle this on my own scardy cat.”

“Fuck you very much,” he retorts, and a laugh slips out before I can stop it.

Without answering him, I push back my chair, and slam some bills on the table, standing up. I saunter towards the exit, leaving Martin behind with his unfinished coffee and his bitter attitude. The cool air hits me as I step outside, providing a much-needed breath of fresh air.

The parking lot stretches out before me, a sea of cars with no clear destination. I dig into my pocket for my phone, but as I reach for it, I feel eyes on me. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

I’ve spent enough time running to recognize the prickle of a stare. Someone’s watching me, and it’s not some random bystander. It’s the kind of watchful gaze that comes from experience. I call out, my voice cutting through the quiet of the parking lot, but no one responds.

I keep walking, my steps quickening. There’s an unease settling in like a discomfort that wraps around me like a cloak. I call out again, more insistent this time, but the only response is the echo of my own voice.

I turn around and I’m suddenly pulled against the cold concrete wall. A hand clamps over my mouth, and I’m about to unleash a string of profanities when I catch a glimpse of the assailant’s eyes.

Familiar blues.

I know those hands, that strength. A part of me wants to resist, to push back, but another part yearns for the connection, no matter how fucked up it is.

His grip loosens just enough for me to speak, and I shoot him a glare that could freeze hell over.

“What the fuck, Richard?”

He doesn’t say anything, his eyes searching mine for God-knows-what. I push against his chest, creating some space between us.

Richard doesn’t budge; if anything, he inches closer, and I find myself involuntarily backing into the wall. It’s as if I have the superpower to disappear into concrete.

His eyes are locked onto mine, but I can’t escape the gravitational pull of his gaze, which seems fixated on my lips. And then, his hand comes up, and a shiver runs down my spine as his fingers gently brush my swollen lip.

Instinctively, my eyes flutter closed, relishing the touch I've been denying myself. It’s been too long—okay, I’m being dramatic, it’s only been a few hours—but it feels like forever, and I can’t deny how much I’ve missed him.

With my eyes still closed, I hear him ask, “Who did this to you?”

I snap my eyes open. I can’t let him in, can’t let him see the cracks in my armor. So, I try to push against him, a feeble attempt to regain control. But Richard, as always, is stronger. Maybe I’m just weaker when it comes to him.

A sarcastic smile plays on my lips, a defense mechanism that’s become second nature. “Well, SSA Reynolds, you of all people should know I like it rough.”

His hold on me tightens, a possessive grip that speaks volumes. A low curse escapes his breath.

“Izel don’t fuck with me right now,” Richard warns. “Who did this to you?”

I roll my eyes. “Does it matter? It’s not like you can do anything about it.”

“I can rip the person apart into shreds,” he growls.

I mockingly raise an eyebrow, feigning being impressed. “How gallant of you. But if you were capable of that, I wouldn’t have left you.”

He ignores my jab. “Was it the guy you were with?”

There’s a hint of jealousy in his voice, and I know I’ve touched a nerve. “No,” I reply flatly.

“Who the fuck were you with?” His grip tightens even more, and I can feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

“Kinda none of your business, is it?”

“Don’t make me abuse my power, Izel. I can have the manager hand over the security footage, or worse, I can have Noah hack into every camera in this damn place just to see who the hell you were with.”

I roll my eyes again, this time more dramatically. “It was Martin, my cousin. Satisfied?”

“What the fuck was he doing here with you?”

“He wanted to see me, Richard. You had me holed up in your house for over a month, remember? ‘Witness protection,’ you called it. Now that I’m finally out, Martin wanted to check in. Not that it’s any of your business.”

I try to move past him, but he doesn’t let me. He steps in closer. “I know I should apologize.”

“It wouldn’t work,” I retort coldly. “I was your suspect. Remember? Shouldn’t you be looking into my past?”

His eyes soften, and the moment I see the look of guilt flash across his face, it cuts deeper than I expected. Fuck, I hate myself for it. For pushing him like this, for causing him that pain. But I can’t let him know. I can’t show him that I’m not really angry, that it’s not about him at all.

“I know I fucked up. I shouldn’t have treated you like a suspect.”

“You violated my privacy. You dug into my past without any regard for my feelings. Do you know how that feels?”

His hand reaches out tentatively, fingers grazing my cheek in a sensual caress. “I know, and I’m sorry. I thought—”

“It was never about keeping me safe?” I scoff.

“It was about keeping you safe,” Richard insists.

“Safe?” I retort, incredulous. “Dragging me into hiding without giving me a chance to defend myself doesn’t sound like keeping me safe. It sounds like you wanted to control the narrative.”

“I was under orders,” Richard snaps back. “You can’t blame me for being a little paranoid after you didn’t bat an eye when your roommate got so brutally killed.”

I laugh, but it’s hollow, and it hurts more than I want to admit. “So that’s your excuse? I didn’t react the way you thought I should, so that made me suspicious?”

“Izel, you have to understand—”

“Understand what?” I cut him off. “That you’re willing to believe the worst about me because it’s convenient? Newsflash, Richard, Nightmare's my life, and closing my eyes just hits the replay button. Do you know what it’s like to wake up every night, gasping for breath, because you can still feel your father’s hands around your throat?”

Richard’s expression shifts from frustration to confusion. “Will tried to kill you?”

The shock in his voice makes my blood run cold. “What do you know about Will?”

“I know enough to understand that I need to find him. And when I do, I’ll kill him,” Richard replies.

Before I can process his words, he turns on his heel and strides away. Panic grips me as I reach out, “Richard, wait!”

But he doesn’t turn back. My words fall on deaf ears as he marches out of sight. Desperation wells up inside me, and I run a hand through my hair, cursing myself for oversharing. How could I have been so stupid?

The worn concrete floor of the warehouse greets my footsteps as I walk in. The silence is broken only by the creaking of rusty metal and the soft shuffle of my own movements. Luna is there, tied to a chair, a piece of tape over her mouth. Martin’s handiwork, no doubt. If he’s gone to such lengths, Luna must’ve posed a real threat to him.

I approach Luna and remove the tape from her mouth.

“You bitch,” Luna glares at me. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

I don’t answer her right away. Instead, I snatch her phone from the nearby surface and turn it on. Martin did a good job at cracking the passcode. I can see all her messages, her calls, everything.

“I’m going to call Richard,” I inform her, the phone held like a weapon. “And you’re going to tell him you’re fine, enjoying a fucking vacation.”

“Do you really think he’s that stupid?”

I level a cold stare at her. “Do as I say, or I’ll make sure the next thing you see is the barrel of this gun, and I won’t hesitate to use it.” I emphasize my point by tapping the weapon against my thigh.

“Fine.”

I dial Richard’s number and put the call on speaker. With Martin’s help, I’ve managed to change Luna’s phone location, ensuring it leads straight to Hollowbrook. The plan is to convince the FBI that Luna is far away. The phone connects, and Richard’s worried voice fills the air.

“Luna? Are you okay?”

Luna gives me a sidelong glance, a silent question in her eyes. I nod subtly, urging her to play along. She sighs into the phone, feigning exhaustion.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just needed some time away.”

Richard doesn’t seem entirely convinced. “Are you sure? Your car was found in the woods with a dead body inside.”

Luna’s eyes widen in shock, and for a moment, she’s genuinely taken aback. She shoots a glance in my direction.

“Holy fuck,” Luna exclaims, her act now tinged with genuine surprise. “A dead body? What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to piece it together. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Luna looks at me again, a silent communication passing between us. I nod subtly, urging her to continue the act. She turns her attention back to the phone.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I have no idea about any of this. I’m just as shocked as you are. Maybe it was a prank or something.”

“Luna, this sounds serious. I need to know you’re safe and that you didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Seriously, Reynolds? You think I’d be involved in something like this? I’ve no idea about any dead body. I heard a loud noise, so I got out of the car to check it out. When I came back, the damn thing was gone.”

I watch the exchange. Luna’s acting and cover-up skills are commendable, but Richard isn’t easily swayed.

I hang up the phone, cutting off Richard's persistent questions. That guy sure knows how to poke his nose where it doesn’t belong. I turn back to the task at hand, slicing a strip of tape to cover Luna’s mouth again.

“You don’t have to do this,” she pleads. “Really, you don’t.”

I don't bother replying instead I focus on the sound of ripping the tape off the roll with a satisfying tear.

“I’m not your enemy, Izel. I get it, you’ve been through some shit. But I’m not here to make things worse.”

I turn to her, raising an eyebrow. “You seriously don’t have any survival skills, do you?”

“You’re being unreasonable,” she protests. “If I wanted to expose you, I wouldn’t have lied to Richard. I’m on your side here.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Trust isn’t exactly something I’m overflowing with these days.”

Trust is a joke. How can you believe in the goodness of people when they’ve shown you nothing but cruelty.

“Just because a few people screwed you over doesn't mean everyone will,” she insists.

Now I understand why Martin felt the need to keep her quiet. He probably found her incessant talking as annoying as I do. It’s almost amusing. I smirk at the thought, shaking my head.

I walk over to her. Luna eyes me warily as I approach. I gently press the tape over her mouth, silencing her protests and wisdom.

“A few people is all I ever had,” I say quietly, more to myself than to her.