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“I call bullshit on that. In fact, I call so much bullshit that I don’t even think the word bullshit is sufficient.”

“Right, well, whilst you debate how efficient the English language is, I’m going to go in there and get this shit over and done with.” I pushed him out of the way and hopped off the bike, sashaying down the garden path with a confidence I didn’t feel.

Fake it until you make it, baby.

I took a deep breath as Dante caught up with me and then knocked on the door before I had the chance to change my mind.

A blurred figure approached, and I was transported back in time to when I had knocked on my mother’s door, not knowing whether or not Dante would be fast on my heels, or if I had managed to escape him.

So much had changed since then, and yet so much remained the same.

One of which was, like all those weeks ago, whoever answered this door would not be happy to see me. The difference was, this time, I had Dante by my side, instead of hunting me down.

As aggravating as he was, he still offered me strength when I didn’t feel strong. He gave me an anchor when I thought the darkness would pull me away.Hewas my darkness, and the rest of the blackness couldn’t reach me. It was all going to be okay.

Chapter 36

Dante

I glanced down at Rachel and immediately felt my stomach clench when I saw that she had already donned her blank mask.

Fuck me, I hated that thing.

She had such a gorgeous face, but I hated that blank look so much, I would quite happily slice the skin from her skull and drown it in acid so that I would never have to look at it again.

“Stop it,” I hissed down at her, pinching her arm with a painful nip.

“Stop what?” She asked, her voice devoid of emotion.

“The fact that you didn’t respond to that pinch – which I know hurt like a fucking bitch, by the way, is all the answer you need. Take the mask off.”

“And let her read my emotions? Not a chance. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and I want her to think I’m as empty and as fucked up as she already thinks I am. I would hate to disappoint.”

“You’re disappointing me.”

“Then I’m two for two and I’ve not even walked in the door yet. This day is turning out much better than expected.”

There was no point trying to talk to her.

This Rachel was not my Rachel.

My Rachel was as volatile as she was passionate. As toxic as she was loving. This robot was her defence, but I preferred the Rachel that was full of emotions. Some good, most bad, but at least it was real.

This Rachel was the source of most of our arguments, because she still used it to hide behind. And whilst I enjoyed finding the holes in her armour, and awarding myself a silent victory when I managed to draw some emotion out of her whenever she got like this, now was not the time to enter into a long, bitter argument that would have the locals clutching their pearls.

The door opened before I could say anything else, and a woman stood before us, looking down her perfect nose as though we were literal pieces of shit that had crawled off the bottom of her shoe.

“Rachel,” she said, her voice haughty.

Fuck me. There’s two of them.

The woman was a carbon copy of Rebecca, albeit a little older. She had the same blonde hair, perfectly styled. The same blue eyes – which Rachel thankfully had not inherited. Rachel had blazing green eyes that were as bright as emeralds when she was happy, and as dark as a storm when she was pissed off.

And you sound like a completely idiotic Shakespeare wannabe right now. Storm? Emeralds? Come out of the closet, Dante.

But it was true. These women were perfectly styled, perfectly dressed, perfectly beautiful. And it came with an expensive price tag. Rachel was rough around the edges. She was messy. She was disorganised. And my God, I loved it.

You’re throwing around that L word an awful lot lately…

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