Page 161 of Like A Moth To A Flame

“You don’t need to worry about him,” Barrett said with a shrug. “I took care of him. He’s dead.”

I felt the pain sinking into me, but not a pain that was physical. It had torn the heart from my chest, and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think, and all I could feel was emptiness.

As his words sank in, a wave of devastation crashed over me, pulling me under the surface until my throat burned and my lungs ached. It hit me like a sucker punch to the gut, leaving me breathless and shaking. The weight of emptiness settled in my chest, suffocating me.

Questions swirled in my mind, but Barrett’s cold gaze held me captive before I could voice them.

“Why?” I managed to choke out, my voice trembling with anger and sorrow.

Barrett’s nonchalant shrug ignited a fire within me. How could he be so callous?

“He touched what is mine,” he said, his words cutting through me like a knife.

As I stared into Barrett’s eyes, once filled with warmth and love, I saw only darkness and indifference. It felt as if someone had flipped a switch, turning him into a stranger.

I didn’t even know him anymore, but had I ever?

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice trembling. “You’re gay, you—”

“You can believe I lied about my entire identity, but not mysexual orientation? Come on, Nessa. You’re a smart girl. You can figure it out, hmm?”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” I blurted, my eyes watering as another surge of pain shot through me. I wanted to jump up, to run to the phone or out the front door, but the cold, hard barrel pointed unwaveringly in my direction held me hostage. “We live in the south! Why would you lie about something to make your lifeharder? All the bullies and the broken windows on your truck and—”

Another shrug, and fuck if it didn’t piss me off.

“Worth it.”

“Why?!”

“To get closer to you.”

I stopped,my hands shaking as I gripped the table’s edge, my eyes trying to find something in his—any semblance of humanity—but there was none. There was nothing there. It was like looking into the face of a wild animal.

“B-but,” I said, forcing the word past chattering teeth. “I read the police reports, and the interviews, and your father said—”

“My father was a hero,” he said, gritting his teeth as he glared at me. “A real hero, not a fake like Tommy or Carl.”

He spat their names like a bad taste in his mouth.

“He made it up to protect me. What was he supposed to tell them? The truth?” He snorted. “Sure, tell the cops ‘My son was so obsessed with her that he couldn’t sleep at night, so I snatched her to keep him happy.’ Yeah, that would have gone over really well when your father was the chief.”

I sat in stunned silence. It took a few minutes and lots of willpower to find my voice again.

“Did he know?” I said without a second thought. “Did he know what you planned to do?”

He snorted again, his free hand reaching into the pocket of his denim jacket and pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and an old, battered white lighter. I could see his fingers shaking. He was using the hand holding the gun. The one Duke had bitten and broken was pressed against his chest, shaking. Even from across the table, I could see the bloodstain was still spreading.

“Of course he knew, Vanessa.”

“He knew you were going to rape me?”

He narrowed his eyes, and the way he looked at me was like I was a pile of garbage discarded on the sidewalk.

“You can’t rape the willing.”

“What are youtalkingabout?”

“You never said no.”

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