Not to mention that he always loved to talk about himself, how he was an orphan, how he battled with depression his entire life, and how no one understood him.
I always listened to him because I thought we were kindred spirits and shared the same issues.
Our identities are misunderstood. Our depression is overlooked.
But now, I don’t know anymore.
I think his death hit me harder because I was right here when it happened. Right beside him in the car.
The wind flips my hair back as memories from that night hit me.
“Come with me, Glyn,” he said. “We can end the pain once and for all.”
“I…don’t know, Dev. I don’t really want that. I…can’t do that to my family.”
“Aren’t you the lucky one to have people who love you?”
“Dev, don’t say that. You have me.”
“And since when do you think you’re enough? You’re nothing more than a fucking coward, Glyn. You sing this tune of being misunderstood and say that your art is compared to your mother’s and brothers’, but ever thought it’s because you’re mediocre as fuck and shouldn’t even be painting in the first place? What type of artist is scared shitless of ending their life? How about you start practicing what you preach?”
Tears streamed down my cheeks and I couldn’t believe that I was staring at the same Devlin I’d known for months.
His face was dark, too, nothing like the kind-hearted friend I’d known.
“D-Devlin, how could you say that?”
“Get out of my car, coward.” When I remained in place, he shouted, “Get the fuck out!”
I opened the door, but I swayed on my feet, and I remember feeling dizzy, because I leaned against a tree for balance.
No clue how long I remained that way, my vision hazy and my limbs shaky, probably due to the drinks we’d had earlier.
Then, in slow, distorted motion, Devlin revved forward at full speed and tumbled over the cliff.
Back then, I was so shocked that I didn’t move for a long time, thinking that maybe I was dreaming and if I remained still, I would wake up.
Then I was screaming his name and crawling to the edge of the cliff because my legs failed me.
The car was sinking in the water below and I was crying and calling the police and shouting for help.
It was a mess.
Two days later, they found his body and he was identified by his roommates.
Besides his death, his words had the worst impact on me. It made my depression worse and my existential crisis critical.
Until a certain bastard came into the picture.
No matter how hurtful Devlin was, Killian had no right to tell him those words that could’ve possibly propelled him to end it all.
While I want to ignore him some more, there must be a story behind his whole encounter with Devlin.
But I’m ready to ghost him and make him lose his mind like he does to me on a daily basis.
Payback is a bitch and so am I, Killian.
“Miss me?”
I flinch at the very familiar voice and a scream bubbles in my throat when I turn around and see who’s standing behind me.
No, no, no…
This must be a play of my imagination. Or maybe I’ve become psychic and started seeing ghosts.
Or else…or else, how could Devlin be in front of me?
He looks different, too. Wearing all black leather like a member of a rock band, his hair is floppy, and his lower lip and nose are pierced.
If I didn’t already know Devlin was an only child, I’d swear this was his evil twin or something.
“D-Devlin?”
“Do you see anyone else here?” Even his voice is different. It’s harsher, like the Devlin from the car that last day.
“But you…” I stare at the cliff and then back at him. “I saw you fall. You fell off the cliff and they found your body…”
“You saw the car fall while you were drugged out of your mind because you’re so trusting, it’s annoying. As for the news about the body, nothing some connections couldn’t take care of, and I lied, I’m not an orphan. My family is pretty much alive, loaded, and associated with the mafia.”
My head crowds with the onslaught of information, unable to keep up.
“You visiting the site of my death is a very touching declaration of love, which would’ve mattered if you weren’t a fucking whore,” Devlin continues in his haughty tone. “You were supposed to let Killian play around with you a little, not take my sister’s place.”
“Your sister?”
“You already met her. Cherry.”
My heart drums harder in my chest. “Why…why would you go to all the trouble of faking your death? Just for the club?”
“The club? No, it’s for fucking power, Glyndon. I didn’t need to be part of the Heathens, since I’m already a Serpent. And do you know what we want? Those fucking Heathens and Elites wiped off the planet. You served as my opening to Landon, which is about the only reason I’d get close to a dull person like you. But then I thought, why not make that fucker Killian part of the equation, too? He likes your type—naive, innocent, waiting for corruption. So I talked about you a little, threw him the bait, and peeked his curiosity. Surprise, surprise. He fell right into it.”
Oh my God. The reason Killian came to this cliff was because of Devlin’s death, wasn’t it? It’s why we met. Because of this…this person I don’t know anymore.
I don’t think I did in the first place.
“It’s time you play your role properly, Glyn.”
He lifts me up by the hair and I shriek as the roots nearly rip, but I don’t focus on that when he drives his fist into my face.
My whole body jerks back as red-hot pain explodes in my nerve endings. My mouth fills with blood and I choke on it.
I attempt to escape from his hold, but he punches me in the ribs, knocking the breath out of my lungs.
“See, they’re all playing nice with each other and I don’t like that. What’s so fun about powerful secret societies if they’re not constantly at war? And I’m not talking about petty fights, night raids, rivals’ week, and the whole boring charade. I’m talking about actual blood, Glyndon, you feel me?”
I gather as much blood in my mouth as I can, then I spit it in his face. “I’m sorry I wasted a tear on you. I thought you struggled with mental illness, but you used my compassion to orchestrate your twisted anarchy. You’ll never get away with this, you sick bastard.”
He wipes the blood with his palm, then raises it and slaps me across the face with enough force to make me see white dots.
“Glyndon, Glyndon, dear fucking Glyndon. Boring, sweet, and absolutely forgettable Glyndon. You’re missing the whole point here. It’s not about whether or not I get away with it, it’s about fucking war. See, when you go running back to Killian, he’ll know we did it, since we’ve been getting on their nerves for a while now. If you go to Landon, the Elites will be after blood. It’ll be even more fun if you get Eli and Creighton involved. Do you hear that?” He cups his ear mockingly. “That’s the sound of a win-win.”
I smile, then laugh long and hard and so maniacally that even I start to believe I’ve gone crazy.
He shakes me with his hold on my hair. “What the fuck are you on, bitch?”
I spit in his face again. “You’ll never get what you want, Devlin.”
He punches me hard enough to throw me to the ground. My vision blackens and I think I hear him laughing and laughing and laughing.
He who laughs last laughs best, arsehole.
If he thinks I’ll go to either Killian or Landon and start a war, he’s sorely mistaken. I’ll wait until I heal and then I’ll talk to Jeremy and Gareth so they’ll take care of him.
They’re reasonable enough to not get too violent or start a war.
I think I’ve got the plan all in motion until I feel strong arms lifting my head.
For a moment, I think I’m imagining things, that in a moment of weakness, he’s the one who comes to mind first.
But when I strain to open my eyes, I find Killian’s dark face staring at me, his fingers stroking my cheeks, and his voice a raging volcano.
“Who the fuck did this to you?”
Unable to keep my eyes open, I let them close, a pained moan leaving my lips. For some reason, it feels safe with him here.
I don’t want it to, but it does.
And I can finally admit that.
“Fuck, baby. Open your eyes. Tell me who did this.”
I purse my lips and let the darkness swallow me in its clutches.
KILLIAN
Of all the feelings that exist in my arsenal, irritation and anger take the crown as the prominent ones.
Especially fucking anger.
There needs to be an outlet to relieve the constant rage lurking inside me. A little bit of violence, a little bit of mayhem.
A little bit of anarchy.
I thought I knew anger so well, that I was already acquainted with the sensation of bubbling blood in my veins, the tensing of my limbs, and the red covering my vision.
Turns out, I never knew what actual anger was until I found Glyndon’s half-unconscious body by the cliff.
After that stunt of posting her hand in another man’s on IG, I was already planning murder—all eloquent thoughts Mom planted in my head to get Glyndon back long gone.
Or maybe they weren’t. I was just using another method to pursue her.
And since she wasn’t answering my calls, I had to use the tracker I implanted in her phone to find out where she went.
When I realized where she was driving, a disturbing uneasiness hooked against my bones and left me on the edge. I drove with the recklessness of a madman who had every intention of risking his life.
The scene I find, however, is nothing I could’ve conjured in my fucked-up mind.
At first, when I see the curled-up figure lying beneath a tree, I refuse to believe it’s her.
The early morning light casts a bluish hue on her legs that are tucked into her chest.
My heart thunders as I kneel beside her, so gently, so calmly as if another entity has taken over my body.
I touch her shoulder and carefully tug. Her head rolls and bumps against my knee.