Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)(118)

Why?

I blinked, and tears streaked down my face.

Why?

Why are you here?

Why do you keep doing this to me?

My tongue darted out to wet my bottom lip as I tried to get myself together. To focus on the reason I was here.

“Ms. Gibson,” the prosecutor said again, this time a prod.

Lyrik tipped his head. Gently.

Brave, beautiful Blue.

Promising me I had the strength.

Reminding me I’d had it all along.

I blinked myself away from that comforting face and turned my attention back to the prosecutor. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I understand this is difficult for you. Let’s start again. Can you tell us when you first met Cameron Lucan?”

I cleared the lump from my throat, though the words trembled. “I was nineteen. It was summer and I was working at a diner when he first came in…”

Throat raw. Mouth dry. Fingers twisted in knots. That’s how I delivered my testimony, the memories brought to life with the power of a projection on a 3-D movie screen. Bile churned in my stomach as I relived every moment, the way he’d twisted and manipulated until my will was no longer my own. How the physical scars ran almost as deep as the emotional. The confession slid like venom from my tongue. Sharp as a dagger and heavy as a stone.

Horror and hate.

“Thank you, Ms. Gibson,” she said quietly. As quiet as the rest of the room that seemed to hold a collective breath, for a moment also prisoners to the atrocities meted at Cameron’s hand.

Caution laced her tone. “Ms. Gibson, do you recognize the person you just described in your testimony to be seated in this courtroom?”

“Yes,” I whispered, even though up to that point, I’d still refused to look that way.

“Can you please point to where that person is seated?”

My eyes dropped closed and the pressure built. So strong and intense. Because even after all the words that had flowed from my mouth, this felt like the culmination of it all.

The moment I finally took a stand.

The moment I stood against Cameron Lucan.

My eyes fluttered open, landing on the boy. My boy. Even if he would never truly belong to me. His jaw was rigid, anger rippling from him in waves that touched me like soft encouragement.

And I didn’t give myself time to question the reason Lyrik West was here. To question his motives or desires or needs.

Because right then, I knew he was there for me.

I lifted my chin, my gaze, and my hand.

Cameron sat across the room unmoving in his chair. As if he sensed the end and willed me to be the one to end it. With so much evidence stacked against him, there was virtually no chance of acquittal. I doubted aiming my attention at him would make a difference either way.

But it didn’t matter.

Because I would no longer remain silent.

I would no longer hide or mask or run.

I pointed a finger at Cameron Lucan.

The rest of her questions were a blur. “Can you please describe what that person is wearing for the court?”

I mumbled the answer and slumped forward when I did.

Gasping.

Reeling.

Free.

“Let the court record reflect that the witness has just identified the defendant, Cameron Lucan.”

I was completely shaking when I was excused from the stand, the cross-examination nothing but a muted whir at the fringes of my mind.

From the back of the room, Lyrik West smiled at me.

So damned soft and filled with understanding.

And I saw it there.

Written all over the edges of that convoluted man.

Pride.

I stumbled into my seat where my mother pulled me into her embrace, pressing wet kisses into my hair, her face soaked in tears. “I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of you.”

And when I looked back over my shoulder, Lyrik was gone.

Mom edged out onto the back porch and handed me a hot cup of tea.

“Thank you.” I blew at the cup as I sat on a wooden rocking chair watching the sun melt against the mountains, a reflection of its passing as it dropped down the horizon at the opposite end of the sky.

These mountains had always been one of my favorite parts of home. Watching the storms build above them, witnessing a beauty unlike anything I’d ever seen. So strong and powerful and dangerous.

Mom settled in the seat next to me and propped up her feet on the railing. “How are you holding up?”

Two days had passed since my testimony. One day since Cameron Lucan’s conviction.

I took a sip and let it soothe my aching throat. “It feels…good.”

I eyed her with a half-smile. “Weird. The day I escaped, I’d accepted the fact it would be something that chased me forever. That I’d have to look behind at every turn. Always be ready to run again. It feels so odd to put it to rest.”

“Yet you’re not settled.” When it came to me, she’d always been this way. Intuitive.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Where do you go from here?”

I hefted a single shoulder. “I don’t know, Mom. I just feel so…lost. I’m not sure where I belong anymore.”

“I’d keep you here forever if you’d let me.” It came out almost a tease, although I recognized the honesty behind it.