20. Lyla

It's been a full week since Kane and Sage lured me back to LA, and the cold war between us hasn't thawed even a bit. He's at the shop before I wake up, he works late, and even when he's home, he locks himself in his room most of the time.

This apartment is starting to feel like a prison, and if I don't get out soon, I might begin carving tallies into the walls.

I understand why he's avoiding me, especially since I gave that girl his number and Echo told me she's been texting him nonstop. But if we're going to be roommates, he's going to have to talk to me at some point.

The silent treatment is worse than him and my dad locking me up in a horse stall. And I'm getting it from both of them. They won't tell me why I'm actually here or who they think is after me, and it's irritating.

I'm not a child anymore, running around the Twisted Kings compound picking flowers with Ellie and pretending we didn't know they were watered with the blood of Kane's enemies. I'm not na?ve as to what evil follows me when I have the Michaels last name.

Still, it changes nothing.

At least Sage's apartment isn't quiet. With the thin walls and the city always making noise, the bustle of LA keeps me company. Traffic and horns and sirens ring out depending on the day and time. It probably bothers most people who live around here, but I don't mind the noise that fills the gaps where I'd otherwise have too much room to think.

Walking into the kitchen, I start the coffee maker and grab the mug that's slowly becoming mine. The pot hums to life as footsteps come from down the hallway.

"Coffee?" Mason says, walking into the room. "It's almost ten at night."

"Caffeine doesn't affect me." That, and I don't mind if I don't get much sleep because that's when I have to relive the memories I'd rather run from.

At night, my subconscious takes the reigns. I travel back to those cold concrete walls and lose my sister all over again. I wake up crying more often than I like, even when I've learned how to better control the way I respond to it on a daily basis.

It took years, but I managed to bury my trauma beneath my smile. What happened in the basement didn't kill me, so I kept moving forward. Even if I don't think it necessarily made me stronger either.

I'm still here, regardless of what they did or what they took. And I get through every day for Ellie. One after the other, keeping her memory with me. Reaching down, I twist the silver pinkie ring around my finger.

Mason grabs a glass of water and takes a long drink. I appreciate how laid back he is because it makes it easy for us to coexist.

While Sage mostly ignores me, Mason keeps me company when he's around. He'll ask me about my day, and he doesn't mind when I tease him about his revolving door of women. We almost feel like friends sometimes, and I appreciate that he never flirts with me. Even if I suspect that has something to do with the unspoken threats Sage issued when I first moved in here.

Mason is uncomplicated on the outside. Like me, he hides whatever deep scars he carries. And I know they're there—I sense them. He's a kindred spirit who makes the apartment feel less lonely.

Tonight, Mason's wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. His dark blond hair is styled, while still managing to look like he didn't spend too long on it. And he's towering over me in the small kitchen, bathed in cologne.

"You heading out?"

"Yeah." He leans against the counter, watching me make my coffee. "A band is playing at Incinerate tonight; they're supposed to be good. You want to go?"

The second the question comes out his eyes widen, like he realizes he's not allowed to ask me, confirming Sage probably did have a talk with him.

I don't appreciate that both he and my father still treat me like a sheltered child.

"Don't worry, I'm staying in." I pat Mason on the shoulder as I walk past him with my coffee. "God forbid I actually have a life."

Shaking my head, I make my way into the living room.

"Sorry," he says, following me. "What is it with you and Sage anyway? I get you're Kane's daughter and all, but why aren't you staying at the club then?"

So many questions that I'm sure sound simple. Mason doesn't see the rot that started at the roots, spreading up through the club and out to anyone who gets close.

Dropping down onto the couch, I look up at Mason. "You've never been a biker, have you?"

He shakes his head.

"Consider that a good thing." I tuck my legs under me.

"Why's that?"

Blowing on my coffee, a million reasons race through my mind, but there's really only one that matters. "Because once you're one of them, you'll never be free of it."

Much less born one of them. I never even had a choice. I might not be a Twisted King, but I'll never escape them either.

Mason's eyebrows pinch, and I appreciate that he doesn't understand what I'm talking about. Most people don't, and it's for the better.

"Don't worry about it." I blow on my steaming coffee. "Go have fun tonight. I'm going to watch reality TV and keep myself busy."

"Thanks." He smiles, turning to grab his leather jacket as he walks to the door. "But not too much fun, right? Thin walls and all..."

I laugh and shake my head. "Yeah, thin walls."

Mason leaves, and once more the apartment is quiet. I cast a trashy reality show on the television and settle in.

After spending so many years jumping between hotel rooms and temporary apartments, I forgot what it was like to feel like I'm home. And even if the apartment is awkward when Sage and I don't know how to act around each other, something about being in his space is comforting just as it was back then.

I feel safe here. Like Sage might hate me, but he'd never let anything bad happen. And as much as I hate relying on someone else to take care of me, I don't mind when it's him.

Sipping my coffee, I can't help glancing at the clock. Sage had a late appointment, and the shop has only been closed for a half hour, but I don't know whether he'll come back here or meet up with Mason at the club.

He tracks my every movement but tells me nothing about where he's going or what he's doing. For all I know, he finished his last appointment early and went out on a date.

And I hate how that makes my stomach turn for no reason.

But when a key slips into the lock on the front door, my body relaxes. The door opens and Sage steps through, pausing just inside when he spots me on the couch.

"Hey." It comes out breathless, and I feel like an idiot when he still has that kind of effect on me.

But every time I see him it's like being knocked in the chest.

Sage tips his chin up, tossing his jacket onto one of the barstools in the kitchen. "Hey."

I watch him out of the corner of my eye, no longer focusing on the television, as he makes his way to the fridge and grabs a beer. Leaning against the counter, he pops it open and takes a drink. The full force of his attention is on me, even if he doesn't say anything.

Shifting on the couch, I try to pretend I don't notice. He turns me back into the nervous girl who felt like she could never find the right words around him. I play with my dark hair, sweeping it from one shoulder to the other.

Sage lifts off the counter at that, walking over to me and stopping directly behind me. The heat of him prickling my skin.

"What happened?" His fingers brush my back and I freeze, realizing I slipped my sweater off when I was home alone and didn't put it back on again when he walked in, leaving my back on display.

"Sorry." He pulls away when I flinch from his fingers brushing over one of the long scars that cuts down the length of my shoulder blade.

I glance over my shoulder and look up at him. His jaw is clenched, his eyes darkening as they rove over my scarred back.

"Is that from…?" But he doesn't finish his question as his face drains of color.

I nod. "The basement."

His entire body tenses with my answer. And for the first time since we've been back together, we're faced with the harsh reality of why I left.

He might understand the impact of it—Ellie's death, his father's sacrifice. But I could tell when I looked into his eyes in that basement that he couldn't understand the depth. I was there for six days, and they've haunted me every day since.

One moment Ellie was laughing with me on the couch, and the next we were being dragged from the apartment by men who wanted to use us as ammunition against our father. I didn't recognize them until Nick showed up on the second day. All I know is that they were doing someone else's work and enjoying it.

The only thing worse than the pain was seeing how much fun it was for them to inflict it.

I'm still not sure how I function, but I do.

I'm here.

I exist.

It's as simple and as difficult as that.

Sage circles the couch, sitting a cushion away from me and taking a sip of his beer. But I can't look at him as I try to hide the fact that I'm even more broken than the last time he saw me.

It's easier if he simply hates me for leaving. Then he doesn't have to realize the full extent of what they did. Of who it made me. Of who I am.

But as he refuses to take his eyes off me, I know there's no escaping it now.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Sage takes another long drink.

He's being understanding when I sense he wants to snap. His stare is a live wire, sparking with the rage he's trying to bury.

"It's fine. We can talk about it." We probably should when I don't know how else we can get past it.

Twisting my fingers around the bottom of my T-shirt, I avoid his gaze. My vision is swimming as I fight back tears, and my heart races so hard it hurts.

"They did that to your back?"

"Yes." Tipping my head back, I close my eyes, and I swear I can still smell that room, the heavy odor of death starting to settle. "One of them said we were Kane's little angels. They said the devil shouldn't be allowed anything innocent. So they took our wings… metaphorically speaking."

Reaching back, I graze my fingertips over the deeply scarred flesh on my back. Over the top of the first line they drew, and I can still feel the blade ripping the length of my skin. One side, and then the other. I can still smell the burning flesh as the red-hot knife sunk in.

Ellie was first. One of them held her on her stomach while the other lifted her shirt and cut. She screamed so loud I can still feel the vibrations between my temples.

When it was my turn, I thought I knew what to expect since I'd seen it. I was wrong.

I've never felt pain like that. So deep it makes you numb. And even if I knew I didn't have actual wings on my back, and even if I don't know if I believe in heaven, that moment stole the possibility from me.

Whatever they took was a lot more than flesh.

"It didn't feel metaphorical." I shiver, blinking my eyes open. "It felt real—whatever they were removing."

"I didn't know," Sage says, gripping his beer tighter.

I reach out and take the bottle from his hand.

"You couldn't have known, Sage." I take a sip. "I left, remember?"

He nods. His focus is on my lips when I wipe my mouth.

"I was so focused on my dad when it all went down that someone else carried Ellie out of the house. I couldn't look at her—"

His words are cut off when they catch in his throat.

"I know what I heard and what Kane said. But I didn't want to think about what they actually did because I just kept hoping that somehow you were spared in all of it. Even if I knew that wasn't possible. I was a fucking coward. I couldn't face it."

"It's okay." I couldn't either for a long time.

I probably still haven't.

"Then Kane buried her so fast, and that was it."

"Where is she?"

The question snaps his gaze back into focus. "She's on the property a few graves down from my father."

"You were there when he buried her?"

Sage nods.

My throat tightens, even as I try to take another sip of his beer. My eyes burn so badly they might as well be on fire, but I don't want to cry. I stopped crying years ago and have fought it ever since. Because once I started, I couldn't stop.

I can't stop.

A tear slips free, and I hate it.

Sage takes the beer from my hand and sets it on the table.

Another tear falls, and I don't know what he's seeing when he looks at me. But he once thought I was beautiful, and now I'm a mess. Broken, ruined, scarred. I fucked us up, and he hates me for it.

I hate myself.

Losing Ellie. Losing him. Nothing has made sense since.

For a moment, I think he's pulling away. But his hand slips behind my back and he pulls me to him. He lifts me onto his lap, and I bury my face in his chest. I breathe in his familiar leather scent and lose myself in his comfort.

I soak his shirt with my tears and hold on so tight the bones in my fingers hurt.

And I appreciate that he doesn't ask any more questions. He's quiet while I empty my soul over him. Sage laid my sister to rest for me.

Right now, I wish he could bring me that same sense of peace.