Page 44 of Bound By Thorns

I stared at the floor, my thoughts racing. The pieces were there, clicking into place one by one.

“I wanted to save him because I couldn’t save them,” I murmured, the truth settling heavily in my chest.

Gabriella didn’t say a word, her silence pressing in on me like a weight. The realization clawed its way to the surface, sharp and unforgiving. It wasn’t about survival—was it? It was guilt. Every decision, every desperate move… all of it fueled by the endless churn of guilt eating away at me.

My mental rap sheet of people who had died on my watch kept growing, each name a jagged wound that wouldn’t close. Kyle. Riley. My parents. Their faces flashed in my mind, unrelenting and accusatory.

By the time I got back to my room, the anger hit me.

I paced the floor, my fists clenched at my sides, the fire in my chest spreading with every thought. I’d been focusing on survival, hadn’t I? Commending myself for escaping, for saving Logan, for doing the right thing. But no. I’d had it all wrong.

I fought because I felt fucking guilty.

Guilty for being alive. Guilty for breathing while they didn’t. Guilty for not saving them, for not being stronger, for not stopping any of it. And now? Now I was supposed to keep going like that was enough?

I slammed my hand against the wall, the dull ache grounding me for a moment before the rage surged back. Survival wasn’t noble—it was a sentence. And guilt was the fucking executioner.

Logan

I was getting used to the restless nights, but I did realize that working out before heading to bed was proving to be helpful. So, I made my way to the gym as I had been for almost a week. As I neared, the sound of fists pounding a punching bag filtered through the silence.

Inside, Kaylan was intensely focused on the bag, dressed in shorts reminiscent of those she’d worn while trying to share her body warmth with me during captivity. She was so engrossed that she didn’t notice me approach.

It was only when I stood close that she sensed my presence and stopped, turning sharply to face me. Her eyes held a fierce glint of defiance.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I ventured cautiously, mindful of not wanting to provoke her further after everything.

“Why? I don’t deserve to be sleep deprived?” She scoffed, “Having my parents murdered isn’t a reason good enough in your books?”

Fuck.

“I deserve that,” I whispered.

She gave a harsh laugh, her anger palpable, “No, Logan. Funny thing is, that you don’t. You were tortured, beaten, rippedopen, and all I did was watch it happen. I patched you up, alright, but only after watching you break every day. So no, you have a lifetime pass of saying whatever the hell you want to me.”

She was almost seething by the end of her rant.

My face hardened and I stepped closer to her, “Listen, I know what I said was wrong. So don’teverthink that you deserve my rage. You don’t,” I willed my resolve to surface, “You arenotmy tormentor. I was simply blinded by…fuck. I was just blinded, okay?”

I wanted to apologize. I really did. But from the look on her face, it was clear that my apology, however sincere, would be too little, too late.

EIGHTEEN

Kaylan

“Blinded by what?” I asked, sensing he was holding something back.

“Nothing,” he dismissed with a shake of his head.

“Blinded by what?” I demanded again, my voice rising. “Was it anger? Hurt? Pain?”

Guilt?

No, that was just me.

“Kaylan,” he warned, his voice deepening.

“No, tell me!” I asked petulantly, my frustration boiling over. “What could possibly blind you, Logan? What could awhoreblind you with?”

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