Page 83 of Liars

I swallowed hard, gripping the mask in my hand like it could anchor me. “The men who…who killed my parents.”

Kreed didn’t respond right away. When he did, there was an edge to him, like he was trying to keep something buried. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. It was foolish of me to think you’d be safe. We need to go. If he isn’t alone… One I can handle by myself, but without Mason and Maddox, it could get dangerous, and I’m not taking that chance.”

“How could you possibly know he would show up?” I said, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “This isn’t your fault.” How easy it would be to blame Kreed especially with the clusterfuck of emotions combating in me. I needed somewhere, someone, or somehow to unleash them before they destroyed me.

Kreed’s jaw tightened. “We need to go. If he wasn’t alone, we don’t have time to sit here playing detective.”

I looked up at Kreed, his dark eyes locked on mine, something unreadable flickering in them. He didn’t say anything, just stood and held out a hand to help me up.

I exhaled shakily, standing.

For a second, I hesitated, staring at his outstretched hand. My mind was a whirlwind of questions, doubts, and fear, but beneath it all, there was a stubborn resolve. Whatever this was, whoever this man worked for, I wasn’t going to stop until I had answers.

Finally, I took Kreed’s hand, letting him pull me to my feet. The mask dangled from my fingers, a cruel reminder of everything I still didn’t know, but perhaps I was one step closer.

As we passed by the bar, Kreed caught the bartender’s eye. “Get Jimmy. We need a cleanup in the hallway.”

“How bad?” she asked.

“Just some trash that needs to be taken out.” His grip was solid. A silent promise that I was still here, still breathing.

My legs were unsteady as we stepped into the blistering late afternoon, but Kreed’s presence at my side grounded me. I didn’t want to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t shown up. Where I might be? Where my attacker would have taken me? If I’d still be alive and able to draw in the crisp air as I did now.

Whoever killed my parents wasn’t going to let me live. And something told me this was far from over. How many more attempts would there be? Odds were that, eventually, my luck would run out.

Kreed wouldn’t always be there to save me.

Sleep eluded me, which wasn’t a surprise. Not after what happened.

The attack. The mask. The adrenaline-pumping fear that hit all the wrong triggers—memories I didn’t want, ghosts I longed to bury.

I tossed and turned, flipping my pillow over and adjusting the blankets, but nothing helped. My mind was too loud, too full of everything that had happened tonight. The masked man. Kreed fighting him. My dad possibly being involved with stolen cars. The weight of questions I didn’t have answers to.

Finally, I gave up.

Throwing back the covers, I slid out of bed, padding barefoot toward the kitchen. If I couldn’t sleep, I could at least make myself something warm. Tea would have to do—coffee at this hour would be diabolical, no matter how much I craved it.

The house was quiet as I crept down the stairs, the faint creak of the wooden steps the only sound. As I reached the first floor, I noticed a faint golden glow coming from a slightly cracked door. Curiosity got the better of me. Moving toward the light, I peeked inside. The room was bathed in the soft flickering glow of the fireplace.

And there he was.

Kreed.

Sprawled out on the couch, one arm tucked behind his head, his long legs stretched out. An open book rested on his chest, its pages slightly bent. His face was turned toward the fire, the glow catching on the scars beneath his eye, mellowing the usual intensity carved into his features.

He looked…different.

I couldn’t help myself.

Drawn into the room, I tiptoed closer, my steps careful on the plush rug until I reached the coffee table in front of him. Slowly, I sat down on its edge, watching him sleep.

He seemed so at peace, so far removed from the brooding, sharp-tongued Kreed I was used to. I’d never admit it aloud, but he was ridiculously handsome even in sleep.Especiallyin sleep, something softer about him like this, a side I doubted many people got to see.

I bit my lip, pressing my teeth down hard to distract from the urge to trace the line of his scar.

God, he’s gorgeous.

And God, did I wish he wasn’t.

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