Torn (A Wicked Saga, #2)(42)

I couldn’t breathe right. Only tiny puffs of air were getting through, and that was doing nothing for me. There was this tearing feeling in my chest I’d felt once before. “Ren, that’s not—”

“I just can’t.” He held up his hand, silencing me. “I can’t even process this right now.”

Tears filled my eyes.

“I . . . I still need to go talk to David,” he said, and my heart stopped. I swear to God my heart stopped in my chest. When he spoke, his voice was rough and abrasive. “He needs to know about what happened with the knight.”

I blinked slowly as what he said sunk in. “You’re not—”

“I just can’t.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t do this right now.”

The ripping feeling increased, gouging open a hole I knew would never be filled. I said nothing as he walked away, leaving me in the alley.

~

I didn’t go home immediately. I don’t know why. I just roamed around for the next several hours, expecting Kyle or other Order members to spring out from the horse-drawn carriages rolling up and down the narrow streets, or from the insides of the dark, tinted vehicles, and snatch me up as I patrolled the Quarter.

It didn’t happen.

I just didn’t want them to come to my apartment and take me in, not with Tink there. Maybe that was why I didn’t go straight home. But finally I wore myself out, and knowing I was supposed to go home hours before, I called it a night.

I’d crossed paths once with Dylan and then with Jackie, another member, but neither of them hissed “Halfling” and then proceeded to try and kill me. Ren hadn’t told anyone yet, or if he had, they weren’t making their move. I didn’t even care if Dylan and Jackie told David that I was still out. That was the least of my problems.

Every time I heard tires squeal, or someone walked up behind me too fast or too close, I tensed. That wasn’t good. I was a mess as I alternated between anger and sorrow throughout the evening. There were no fae to take out my aggression on, which was a damn shame, so I wanted to punch random, innocent people on the streets. Like drive-by throat punches. The messy, violent swelling of emotion was almost too much. And then when I realized how terrible it would be to just run around punching people in the throats, I felt horrible, which was worse.

Then I thought about Val and the pain increased.

And then I thought about Ren.

My heart broke all over again. I loved him—I was in love with him, and he . . . God, he had to hate me now. I kept checking my phone as I roamed the streets, and I didn’t even know why. Only a tiny part of me believed I would get a text or a missed call from Ren, a very small, dumb part of me. Of course, every time I checked my phone, there was nothing. But that small part destroyed the rest of me.

It took everything for me to keep walking, to keep looking for fae and not break down in the middle of Orleans Avenue, to not sit on the curb and just sob. I’d never been more relieved when my shift was over and yet reluctant at the same time, because I’d grown so accustomed to Ren coming home with me.

But not tonight.

Probably never again.

I was in a daze during the cab ride back to Coliseum, and when I walked into my apartment the lamp by the door had been turned on. Tink had also kicked the ancient furnace on, so the apartment wasn’t freezing, but the whole place smelled of burnt hair and dust.

I lifted the strap of my purse over my head and dropped it on the chair by the door. I looked down the hall and saw that Tink’s door was closed. There was no light peeking through the cracks. I walked to my bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me. I placed my phone on the nightstand. I didn’t really undress. All I did was toe off my boots and strip off my weapons, placing them on the dresser with the exception of one. I took my pants off, leaving them in the middle of the floor. I brought the thorn stake with me and climbed into bed, placing it next to my pillow.

I didn’t sleep.

My eyes were open and I stared into the darkness, not really seeing anything. The hurting in my chest was a very real pain that tripled with every heartbeat.

Part of me, as bad as it sounded, regretted telling Ren the truth. If I hadn’t, he would be here right now with me, fulfilling all those things he’d whispered in my ear before we left for work. His arms would be around me, making me forget all about Val and her fate. His lips would be on mine, and even though it wouldn’t change what I was or what we would have to face, it made it all seem . . . easier somehow. I wouldn’t be alone in any of this. We’d be together.

But I would have been lying to him.

I squeezed my hand tight, ignoring the pain in the palm I’d sliced open. Telling him had been the right thing to do, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t keep cutting deep. What had Ren said?

This thing.

That was what he’d said I was. A thing. Maybe he hadn’t meant it, was just lost in the moment, but he was right. I wasn’t really even fully human. I was a thing, and I’d been an idiot.

Why did I even fool myself into thinking we’d had a chance? The moment I found out I was the halfling, I should’ve known right then. I should’ve ended things and walked away from him. Actually, I should’ve never gotten with him in the first place. I’d always known this wouldn’t end well. I’d resisted and I’d pushed him away, but in the end I’d caved, and now look at me.