13. THIRTEEN

THIRTEEN

I drag my pink suitcase through the hotel lobby toward the elevator, a weird sense of déjà vuwashing over me.

The car ride up was uneventful enough. I sat in the front of Austin's with Blake, and three of her other friends, Ashlyn, Lauren, and Sophie, sat in the back.

Sophie is going to be her maid of honor. That was supposed to be me.

At least I'm getting a room to myself.

"Okay, so we are on the seventeenth floor…" Sophie says, hitting the elevator button.

"Can you hit thirty for me?" I ask.

"Oh…sure."

She exchanges a look with Ashlyn that I'm pretty sure says, At least she's staying far away from us.

"So, we're going to get changed and meet down in the lobby at seven," Blake tells me. Her friends step out of the elevator, and she holds the door open while she finishes. "Then, we have reservations at Yellowtail and a table with bottle service at a club back at our hotel. I'm in room 1724 if you need me, Teag. Okay?"

"Okay," I tell her. "I love you, Blake. I'm glad you're happy."

She smiles. "Thanks, Teag. I love you, too. And you'll be happy soon, too."

She steps out of the elevator, allowing the door to close, and it takes me up to the thirtieth floor.

I wish she were right. I wish the things that made her happy could make me happy, too—a normal life with a clean-cut guy in tech, a house in the suburbs, and a big wedding to show it all off.

But I'm wired differently; I know that now. And Sebastian is right—maybe when it was dormant, I could move and exist in these spaces, but that isn't the case anymore.

He was supposed to stay and help me. He was supposed to take care of me and make sure it never got this bad.

He promised.

The door closes behind me, and I toss my suitcase onto the bed before opening it. I pull on a black mini-skirt with the red lace top I wore to that very first Gods of Tomorrow concert in L.A. and a pair of boots, then put on makeup and add some curl to my straightened hair. The bruises have faded, but not quite enough for makeup to hide them entirely.

I catch my reflection in the mirror once more before leaving the room and reluctantly sweep my hair over my shoulders to cover my scars.

It feels dishonest.

At least in my next life, I'll never have to worry about getting rid of them.

I'm early getting down to the lobby, so I pull out the phone Sebastian brought me a few days ago and send him a text. We fucked on the kitchen table that day, but since then, he's given me space like I asked, but as always, I know he's been around. I've just barely managed not to text him and take it all back a couple of times when my loneliness got the best of me.

ME Just keeping you in the loop. I'm still alive, and so is everyone else.

He reads it but doesn't reply, and I sigh, slouching on the hotel lobby sofa and stuffing the phone back into my purse. Of course, I should have expected him not to reply. I guess that's what happens when your only friend is a soulless murderer who doesn't even consider himself to be a person anymore.

And here I am, once again attached to a monster. The worst of all I've encountered—or maybe more accurately, sucked into my orbit. There's a common denominator here, and it isn't Declan.

"Oh, there she is," I hear Blakely say. "Hey, Teagan. You ready?"

"Yeah," I tell her. I offer a smile before pulling myself off the couch.

We walk to the neighboring hotel and into the restaurant, and after making sure none of the drinks have kiwi in them, I order a saketini, a seaweed salad, and a couple of sushi rolls.

I'm grateful the drink comes quickly. I'm uncomfortable—Blakely keeps trying to include me in their conversation about marriage and babies and relationships, but I have nothing to contribute.

"No, we want to get pregnant like…right away," Blakely tells them. "We both want three, and we want to have at least two years between all of them. And I know it's not always easy so…might as well get started right now."

"I love that," Ashlyn says. "I keep telling Mason the same thing, but he insists on waiting until we're thirty. I'm hoping next year when all of our friends have kids, he'll change his mind."

Air crackles in my straw when I take my next drink. I've already drained it. God damn it.

"Teagan has a new boyfriend," Blakely says. "He's a surgeon. He's really handsome, seems like a really nice guy."

My eyes go wide. "He's not my boyfriend," I tell them. "I don't think monogamy is for me, really, anyway."

"Well, what does that mean?" Ashlyn asks, her lips twisting with disgust.

I ignore her and change the subject. "Actually, I've been thinking about what Mom said about moving in with Aunt Beth in North Carolina, and I think I'm going to go after the wedding."

"Oh, you are?" Blakely asks, the surprise evident in her voice. "Well, I'm proud of you…taking control of your life again. That's huge."

"What are you going to do there?" Sophie asks.

I shrug. "Be different."

"Teagan's working really hard to cope with what happened to her with that cult, but…the rest of the world won't let her move on."

As if on cue, two women pass the table far too slowly, their eyes locked on me the entire time.

One of them snaps a sneaky photo on her phone. It's the kind of behavior I learned to notice on the road with the band. I smooth my hair back over my shoulders again. I don't need some bloodslut going nuts on me and trying to snake a blood sample or something like that nurse did.

"I was a huge fan," Lauren says. "I mean, not like I was drinking blood or cutting myself online or anything, but I was a massive fan. I went to their show in L.A."

"Yeah, that was a great show," I say, hoping Blakely will change the subject for me.

"But then I saw in the paper…what Luca did to that girl. Do you think he really killed her sister?"

"Lauren!" Blakely snaps. "What did I say? She's trying to move on. She was fucking brainwashed by a cult—leave her alone."

"It's okay, Lauren," I say. "I don't want to talk about Declan and Luca, but to answer your question, no. I don't think Luca would have done something like that. I'd bet my life on it."

I feel Blakely's glare on me. I don't think she liked that answer.

It's quiet for a minute before Sophie changes the subject. "I think Jake is going to propose soon. I think he's going to do it in Mexico."

Blakely gasps. "Oh my god, I will die! That would be amazing!"

"Okay, I have a dragonfruit cocktail," the server says, setting the drink in front of me.

"Oh…I didn't order this," I tell her.

"It's from an admirer," she says, winking. "Don't worry, there's no kiwi."

Great.

"Um, thanks," I say. I notice a note under the base of the cocktail glass, pull it out, and unfold it.

FOR OUR QUEEN.

"Well, who's it from?" Blake asks.

"I don't know."

Realization must settle in because the look on her face shifts from curious to disappointed.

"What do you want me to do about it, Blakely? I'm already uprooting my entire life."

She throws her hands up. "Nothing. Just…at least it will be dark in the club later. That's all."

It's faint, but I taste it as soon as it hits my tongue. There's blood in this drink. Was it the server? The girls who walked by earlier? Someone else? I try not to look around the room; I don't want the attention, and I know I can't take advantage of it. I know I can't play the role of their queen.

Still, I drink every bit of it. What kind of bloodslut queen would I be if I didn't? I let it sit on my tongue, savoring it before drinking it down. And they don't know—none of them know I'm sitting here drinking blood while they talk about proposals and tracking ovulation.

It's even more erotic…having this dirty little secret. When the server brings us the receipt, I see the bandage on the inside of her wrist. I can tell she wants me to follow her to the bathroom, but I can't do that. I grab my bag and follow my sister and her friends out the door.

By the time we get to the club, I'm sufficiently buzzed and it's dark as promised. People don't stare the way they did at the restaurant. The DJ mixes music similar to what I danced to with Luca at the club in Reno. It makes me miss him—it makes me miss that life—and so when they all get up to dance, I don't bother mixing a drink anymore. I take the entire vodka bottle from the middle of the table and pop the top.

I keep checking my phone—discreetly since I told Blake I forgot mine and I don't want her to see the second one—even though I know Sebastian is the only one with the number and he won't message me just to talk. I close one eye and send him another message anyway.

ME Someone sent me a bloody drink and a note saying I was their queen. I'm never coming back.

I set the phone down on the table and take another drink. I must be feeling lonely again because just like the last time Sebastian hurt my feelings, I hallucinate Declan across the room.

Or that's what I think is happening. But even he ignores me, not bothering to offer me any shitty pearls of wisdom I didn't ask for. He simply watches me over his shoulder for a few seconds before disappearing into the sea of people in front of me.

"Rude ass ghost," I grumble.

But then I see him again across the dark room, leaning against the wall. We make eye contact and…

My heart pounds in my rib cage. Something is wrong. This Declan is wearing a jacket with the hood pulled up. I never picture him like that. I only ever see him one of two ways—with bed head in a pair of sweatpants or, when I'm angry, in dark denim soaked in my blood and a white shirt that says, 'Everybody Lies.'

I look away and squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to send him back to wherever he came from, but when I look up again, he's still fucking there.

That should have worked. But it's been days since I took my medication. Maybe Sebastian is wrong—maybe I do need it.

"Hey," Blakely says, sliding back into the booth. "Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, I'm having fun. Are you?"

"You sure you don't want to dance? God, I need water."

She grabs a bottle from the middle of the table and drinks the entire thing.

"I'm sure."

"I wish you were going to be my maid of honor," she says. "I'm getting so fucking sick of Sophie. But you can't. Because your tits are sliced up, and it would ruin the photos."

"Yep, I got that."

"I wish you would have come home with me," she adds. "When I came to Denver. Everything would be different."

I look over her shoulder. Fake Declan is still there.

"Yeah, I guess it would be, wouldn't it?" God, would it ever. "To be fair, one tit still would have been sliced up."

"Really?" she asks, crinkling her nose. "Which one?"

"The left one."

"I hope we can be friends again like we were before someday," she says. And I know she's drunk, but maybe she even means it. Unfortunately, for us, that someday won't ever come.

"Blake, I forgive you," I tell her. "Even if you're not sorry right now, I want you to know that I forgive you for the things you've said to me and the way you treated me. I forgive you for not knowing how much I was hurting when I was younger, and I forgive you for not being there for me at the very worst moment of my life—when my heart was ripped out of my chest and mom had me committed. I think you did the best you could; we were just different. We could never understand each other, but I do love you."

"Teagan, I—"

"Hey!" Sophie says, pulling on Blakely's hand. "They're playing your song next! Come on—let's go!"

"Go ahead," I tell her. "I'm going to go back to my room. I'm tired."

"Are you sure?" she asks.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

She lets Sophie pull her back through the crowd on the dance floor, looking back over her shoulder at me once before disappearing. I think she'll remember it. And when I die in a car accident after the wedding, I hope it brings her some kind of peace.

My phone vibrates on the table, and I pick it up.

SHINY ASSHOLE Don't fuck with me. I can be there in less than an hour.

I smile. Maybe I do want him here.

I stuff my phone back in my purse and leave the booth, but when I do, something odd happens. Fake Declan also starts moving, brushing shoulders with someone in the crowd. The person stumbles backward, spilling the drink down the front of their body.

"Hey, what the fuck?" the man yells. "Watch where you're going!"

I can't breathe. Either I've ascended to a new level of hallucinating and I'm seeing more fake people…or Fake Declan is corporeal.

I try calling out to him, but no sound comes out, and so I stare, incredulous, watching the guy he ran into attempt to clean the front of his shirt with cocktail napkins while bitching to his friends.

I turn back to Declan, who heads for the back of the room.

Move, Teagan, I tell myself. You're losing him.

Once I can get my legs to move, I follow, pushing my way through the crowd as best I can, trying not to lose him.

But I do—lose him.

Just as I make it through the room, I watch the emergency exit door in the back of the room close behind him. But no alarm goes off.

I stand in front of it, hesitant to push it open. An alarm didn't go off for him, but maybe it would for me. If he's fake.

Fuck it.

I push the door open and step into an empty service hallway. In front of me, there's a staircase. To my right, there's a door leading to a fire escape. To my left, there's a long, bright, empty hallway. I almost bolt out the door before I hear footsteps echoing through the stairwell.

"Hey!" I yell, running up the stairs after him. "Come back!"

I lean over the railing and see him turning the corner of the staircase about four floors ahead of me. I race up the stairs, but I'm drunk and out of fucking shape. I can't remember the last time I ran anywhere.

Fuck, I guess it was from the cops.

After maybe about ten floors, I can't feel my thighs, and I've already misstepped twice. Somewhere after twenty, I'm crawling, using my hands to help me climb. The sound of a heavy metal door opening and closing reverberates throughout the space, and I almost cry.

I want to puke.

It's minutes later before I finally reach the top. I push open the door and step out onto the roof, the air still thick with heat even at this time of night. With my hands on my knees, I stop, catching my breath as I scan the rooftop.

But there's no one here. And there's nowhere to hide. It was all in my head. Just like with the concert, I let myself believe something I knew couldn't be real.

I'm fucking losing it.

"Fuck!" I scream. "I'm so fucking stupid."

I fall to my knees and scream, tearing at my hair with my fists before punching the ground until my knuckles are bloody. Then, I drop my forehead to the concrete, defeated.

My mind is going. And that's pretty much all I have left. Declan ruined me. I don't have Luca. River and Hazel are gone forever. I'm a fucking murderer, and I can't exist in the real world anymore. In a couple of weeks, I won't even have a name or a face.

And now, this.

I don't know how long I stay there on the ground, but eventually, I do pull myself up and turn to the door leading back to the staircase.

But I don't open it—I can't. It's too heavy again, and I don't mean the door in front of me. The hole in my chest where my heart used to be, that sinking feeling, the hopelessness crushing my rib cage—it's too heavy like it was the first few weeks after they abandoned me when I could barely move. So, instead of going back inside, I walk to the ledge and look over.

I've always been afraid of heights. Even now, just standing here, my hands shake and my palms are slick with sweat. It's a long way down—long enough that I'd have time to regret it on the way—but it would be quick and certain. I wouldn't wake up in a hospital somewhere. I'd never have to feel this way again. I couldn't hurt anyone else, and I wouldn't have to lose the only thing I have left.

I climb up onto the ledge and scream to the sky, "You win! You fucking win; are you happy? Is this what you want? Huh?" I toss my purse back onto the roof. "I hope when you find out, you don't think I did this out of love. I want you to know I died hating you, and I've hated you for a long time. I hope you suffer before you die…like I have. I hope it's slow, and I hope it fucking hurts."

I point my toes toward the ledge and take a deep breath. "I'll just…" I pause, sniffling. "Close my eyes and count to thirty. One…two…three…"

But before I'm ready, I'm moving through the air. But I'm falling backward, not forward. I land flat on my back on the rooftop, the back of my head smacking into the concrete hard enough to make me see stars. The weight of the person who pulled me back is on top of me, pinning my wrists to the ground.

He followed me. He promised me he wouldn't. Maybe I should be grateful to him for saving my life again, but I'm getting really tired of men who are excellent liars.

But when I open my eyes, and my vision clears, it isn't Sebastian on top of me.

"That is not what I want," Declan says. "That has never been what I wanted from you, Teagan."

"You're not real."

Am I dead?

"Teagan, this is real," he says. He takes my right hand and moves it beneath his shirt, holding my palm flat against where his heart beats in his chest—over the raised scar in the shape of a 'T.' "Feel that? That's real, kitten. Have you been having a hard time with that? Telling the difference between what's real and what's not?"

I run my fingertips over the scars—and they are scars, not angry, scabbed-over wounds the way they were the last time I saw them. Not raw and festering the way they always are in my visions.

The way I still am now.

"Declan?" I whisper.

He places a hand on my cheek, gently wiping a tear from under my eye with his thumb. "Yeah, sweetheart. It's me."

"Get off of me!" I shout, pushing him off of me with both hands.

"Teagan, it's okay. It's—"

"No!" I scream, pulling myself to my feet. "No, it's not okay! Declan…you left me. How could you fucking leave me? Do you know what it did to me? And you've just been…what? Watching, just like him? Were you laughing? Did you enjoy the fucking show? Did you enjoy watching me ruin myself?"

"No, Teagan. That's not what I've been doing. If you'll just calm down and let me talk to you…" he says, moving toward me. I back away until I'm flush against the wall.

"Unless you're going to admit that you're a fucking liar and that you made a fool out of me and had fun doing it, then I don't want to hear anything you have to say! You know what? I am glad I got to see you one last time, though, so that I could tell you to your face that I fucking hate you. We all do."

I reach for the door handle and pull it open a few inches before he slams it shut.

"Teagan, please, stop. Please?" He pins me against the door with his hands around my biceps. "Do you have any idea how much I've missed you? That there hasn't been a single minute of a single day when I wasn't thinking about you? I love you, Teagan. I love you so much."

I shake my head. "You're lying."

He reaches for me and, with a finger on my chin, turns my head to the side, inspecting the bruises on my face and neck.

"What happened to you?" he asks. "Did someone hurt you, sweetheart?"

"You left me," I tell him. "You left me face down in the fucking dirt, and I was alone! That's what happened. You have no fucking idea what I've been through because of you!"

"I told you not to look," he says softly. "I didn't want you to see that."

"That doesn't change anything."

"Will you please just shut the fuck up for five minutes and let me explain?"

"You wouldn't talk to me…on the phone. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Teagan, I couldn't," he says. "But I heard it in your voice—how much pain you were in. I had to see you."

"Because you get off on that, right? Women in pain? It's the next best thing to ripping them apart and watching them bleed."

"God damn it, Teagan!" he shouts, pushing off the door and pacing in front of me. "I should—"

"What?" I laugh. "You think I'm scared of you… now? After everything I've been through? I was ready to throw myself off the building— what are you going to do to me?" I move my hair away from my chest and point to the space just above the 'D' carved into my skin. "Here's a little tip I learned from Bone Saw: aim a little higher this time. That should do the trick."

"Teagan, I wanted you to stay on the ground with your eyes closed because I wanted you alive. What do you think would have happened if you got up and ran to that plane? They would have shot you, too, and then I would have had to decide which one of you to save and which one to let die, and neither of you would have forgiven me."

"I don't forgive you now. Declan, you broke my heart." I pause, blinking back tears. "You broke me. You broke our family…"

"I told you I'd never leave you. You were supposed to have faith."

"Have faith? What does that even mean? You're not a fucking god, Declan. You're just an asshole."

"Teagan…"

"You hurt me." My lower lip quivers as tears run down my face. "So bad. I can't forgive you this time. You'll…you'll do it again."

"What about Luca, hmm? Do you hate him like you hate me?" Declan asks.

I swallow hard, looking down at the ground. "No," I tell him quietly. "No, I don't hate Luca."

"Do you want to see him?"