Betrayal of Cupids (3 page)

November 30

Grace,

I wish I knew how to reach you.  I’ve thought about coming to Alexandria, but I fear that me showing up in your town after everything that went down Thursday would just end up being a disaster for both of us.  I assume that you’re being guarded by one of the Shadows, and that my trying to get close could be seen as a threat.  I keep trying to convince myself that we need to lay low, we need to mourn our families right now, but that doesn’t mean that you haven’t been the only thing on my mind for the last thirty-six hours.

Sean is missing.  No one has been able to track him down.  We sent three guys out, but their searches have turned up nothing.  I can only assume he’s far away, knowing we’re looking for him.  He knows he’d be in for a fuck ton of pain if we catch him, so my best guess is that he fled the country.  It’s what any of us would’ve done in that situation.  Still, I won’t give up hope that we will find him.  Until I’m sure of that, I won’t feel safe.  I won’t be comfortable that I’m not the one protecting you.  I still will never forgive myself for not protecting you in the first place.  I knew not to trust him.  I should’ve trusted my gut.

As I’m sure you know, it hasn’t been the easiest of days.  The club is in full mourning, and I feel as though it’s completely my fault.  I should have been more careful.  I shouldn’t have allowed you to leave my sight.  I should’ve seen the war coming.

I can keep going on and on about the things I should and shouldn’t have done, but the thing I know I will do is find a way back to you.  This story doesn’t make sense without us together.  I need you, Grace.  I need your love and your warmth.

I will find a way to be with you today, tomorrow, and past the light.

Ryan

Ryan

She was standing right in front of me; all I had to do was reach out and take a hold of her.  Her soft red curls blew behind her shoulders, revealing the slender indentations of her collarbone.  Her chin was lifted, as if she were looking off into the distance.  I took one step closer, but she was still at an arm’s length.  She wore a lavender silk nightie, which favored one side over the other, showing off her bare shoulder.  The fabric clung to her hips, displaying the perfect target for my outstretched hands.  Grace finally brought her gaze down, staring directly into my eyes.  It was then that my fingertips grazed her skin.  The touch sent a stream of chills through my entire body, and my hips instinctually tipped in her direction.  I slid my hands down her naked arms, interlocking my fingers in hers.  We stood there forever, rocking back and forth to the music that was only in our heads.  A loud noise jolted us from our little fantasy, and we both turned toward the sound.  I felt a cold, blunt object pushed up against my chest.  I looked down, to confirm my suspicions: a gun.  My head shot up to ask her for her why, but I was instead met with the face of my uncle.  The sound of the gunfire was first.  Then came shock.  I never felt the pain.

My eyes sprung open.  There was no Grace.  There was no Sean.  There was no gun.  It was morning, but I was disorientated; I hadn’t remembered falling asleep.  I looked around my apartment; I had made some mess.  Broken glass covered the floor, frames were split in two, and somehow my dresser had ended up on its side, clothes spilling out of each drawer.  I wasn’t handling Pop’s death very well.

It was the day of the funeral.  I would have to face it all today; there would be no hiding.  That didn’t mean I couldn’t escape for just a few minutes.  I rolled out of bed, careful to not rip open my makeshift stitches.  I tossed back two of the pills Rocky had given me, threw on a gray sweat suit and attempted to leave it all behind, if only for the moment. 

The morning air was crisp, cool, and it stung my face as I began to run.  I knew I shouldn’t have been moving, I should’ve been resting, but I needed the freedom that only running could offer.  I moved my arms faster, sure to keep my torso still.  The pain was there, but I could handle it, and it was slowly numbing: I wasn’t sure if it was the meds or the adrenaline. 

The air smelled of snow.  Snow would be nice.  It’s clean, fresh, and pure.  Maybe it would wash away the evidence of the fight still left in our parking lot.  That would be a nice start.

My mind wandered as my feet pounded the pavement.  I tried to wipe clear the unending thoughts of my Pops, to no avail.  Today would not be the day I would stop blaming myself. 

Shaking out of my daze, I realized my travels had taken me farther than I had planned.  I looked quickly to my left.  There was a police barricade blocking the entrance to a blackened garage.  It had been badly burned, and large chunks of concrete were splayed around the entry.  The devastation was obviously caused by some sort of bomb.  It was a bomb meant as a warning, a punishment for me.  It was meant to kill Grace.  How had I ended up by Grace’s apartment?  I stopped running, allowed my body the break it deserved. 

I knew she wasn’t up there.  I knew buzzing up to her apartment would prove to be fruitless, but just standing outside her door seemed comforting.  It was the first bit of comfort I had felt since the incident.  Of all days, I didn’t expect to find any peace of mind on the day I would bury my Pops.  I wished I could thank Grace for that moment.

I turned around, knowing that the distance I had covered in my fogged state must have taken up a good deal of time.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time left.  I had somewhere to be.  I picked up the pace as I travelled south, calculating the time I would need to prepare for the cemetery.  I wouldn’t feel confident running the extra few miles back to my apartment, so I decided to swing by the house I had grown up in: my Pop’s house.  I guess it was my house now.

I turned down his street, assured I still had plenty of time.  My feet slowed to a walk.  Especially with my injury, I would need a while to cool down. 

“Ryan!”

It was weird to hear my name called from a distance, especially in a neighborhood I rarely frequented, but I knew exactly whose voice it was.  I had just passed Rocky’s pad.

I turned, offered a small smile, and walked back toward him.

“Nice day for a jog.”

“A little cold.”  Why the small talk?

“You really shouldn’t be running.”

“I needed to.”

“I know.  Just be careful.  I don’t want to do that again.”

I nodded.  Rocky was our resident doctor.  He was a nurse in the army about ten years back, hoping to use the experience to pay for medical school.  After he got out, he realized the medical profession wasn’t his calling.  Funny thing was, he hated blood, but he didn’t let that bump in the road stop us from using his talents.  Although he never actually became a doctor, he still knew enough to get us through our altercations without multiple trips to the hospital.  He saved us from having to answer too many questions.

Rocky kicked the ground; I could see him struggling to bring something up.

“Have at it, Rock.”

He sighed, searching for the words.  “I didn’t mean to throw the presidency on you the other night.  It just made sense.”

I bit my lip.  “It did make sense.  No hard feelings.”

“You swear?  No hard feelings?”

“None whatsoever.”

“So you want the job?”  He seemed hopeful.

“For now, it works.  We’ll decide as a group if it’s the best thing moving forward.”

“Okay.”  He seemed excited, patting me on the back.  “And this is why you’re going to make an awesome president.  Cassidy would be proud.”

“Thanks.”  I had to look away for a second.  “You coming today?”

“That’s not even a question.  Of course I’ll be there.  The little lady is just dressing the kids, and we’ll be on our way.  Do you need a ride?”

“No.  I’m going down myself.  I’m just swinging over to Pop’s for a shower before I do.”

“Uncle Ryan!”  A shirtless kid burst out the front door.

“Hey kid.”  Rocky’s oldest ran toward me, preparing to jump into my arms.  I knew lifting him could tear my stitches, so I bent down to greet his embrace.  “I think it’s a little cold for the outfit you’re rocking.  What do you think?”

“It is definitely cold, but I feel like a man.”

He was a cute kid, and I couldn’t help but laugh.  Rocky had three kids with another on the way.  The little rascals were all about a year apart, with his oldest turning four in just a few days. 

Rocky ruffled the kid’s hair.  “Get your ass inside and put a shirt on.”

“Yes, sir.”

I watched as the kid clumsily climbed up the old wooden stairs.  He gave me a small salute before closing the door behind him.

“He’s a riot.”

“That’s a good word for him.”

We both chuckled before bidding each other goodbye.  I needed to get back to Pop’s.  I needed to shower.  I needed a suit.

I took the front steps slowly, two at a time.  There was a loose piece of wood on the deck, a spare key and beneath it.  I was about to open the door to my past, but also to my future.  The key clicked the lock open, and I pushed the heavy wooden door into the foyer.  A cold wind followed me in, and I was sure the snow wouldn’t be far behind it.  I took a small tour, reminding myself of the time I had spent within those walls.  I pushed my body up against the paneling, bracing myself for the memories, the guilt.  Surprisingly, the reminders were good, warming.  The memories of Pops were happy.  Sure, the twinge of guilt still twisted my stomach, but I felt as though it was where it belonged.  It would be hard, but for the time being, this would be my home.

Grace

It was cold.  It was so cold that the chill followed us inside.  Aunt Kathryn stood on one side of me, Mr. Muscles on the other. There were so many hands to shake, so many people offering condolences.  I couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Members from all the Walking Shadows chapters were there to pay their respects to my father.  There were stories told and laughter shared.  Considering the hodgepodge of people sitting in the funeral home, there was a lot of love being spread around. 

But I didn’t participate.  My stare remained vacant.

“We’ll catch the son of a bitch who did this.”

I nodded to the voice.  I couldn’t even count how many times I had already heard that threat.

“Do we have any idea who it was?  Which Cupid killed him?

I continued nodding, out of habit, not actually hearing anyone.

It was Mr. Muscles who spoke.  “It was James Cassidy’s son, Ryan.”

That’s when I perked up.  “What?”  I squeaked breathlessly.  No one heard me.

A random chapter member put his hand on my shoulder before walking away.  I frantically looked to Aunt Kathryn.  “Did he just say that Ryan killed Dad?”

She pushed my hair out of my face.  “Don’t worry, baby girl.  We’ll find him.”

“No.  We don’t have to find Ryan.  It was Sean.”

“That’s not what everyone is saying.”

“It’s what I’m saying.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”  My voice had found its pitch.  I was angry.

“Grace, what’s wrong?”  Mr. Muscles chimed in.

“Sean Cassidy killed Dad.”

“He killed James, not your father.”

“You’re wrong.  I saw him.”

“I think you were overwhelmed.  I was there.”

“You might have been there, but you obviously didn’t see anything.  I was right there.  I was right there.”  I was speaking fast, but in the heat of the moment, it was necessary.  Were they not looking for Sean?  Did they actually think it could be Ryan?

“So was I, Grace.  Sean Cassidy was not there when your father went down.”

“Yes, he was.”

“Ryan was the one holding the bloody knife.”

I lunged at him.  “Take it back!”

“Grace, calm down.”  Aunt Kathryn’s wrapped her arms around my flailing limbs.

“No.  No.  Do you not believe me?  I know it was him.”

They led me out of the room.  I could feel my face turning bright red.  In the chaos of the fight, had no one in my family seen exactly who killed my father—no one except me?  I was the one who watched in slow motion as Ryan’s uncle thrust his knife into Patrick Brennan’s back.  Every time I closed my eyes, I watched him kill my father over and over again, just as I had spent almost twenty years reliving the night he killed my mother.

And now, to add pain to misery, I had a scar of my own, connecting my clavicle and navel.  He had sliced his knife down my body in an effort to completely ruin me.  And he had succeeded.  I was ruined.

But did no one believe what had actually happened?  Would I have to convince them that my truth was real?

I looked around.  People were missing.  “Take me to the officers.  I have to talk to them.”  They needed to know what really went down during the fight.

“That’s not a good idea.”  Mr. Muscles shook his head.

“Where are they?”

“Grace.  I think you need to calm down.  When this all settles, I’ll arrange something.”

“Who do you think you are?”

Aunt Kathryn pulled me closer to her.  “Let it go, Gracie.”  I was becoming frantic.  The worry in her eyes peaked, but it was not enough to stop me.

“No, absolutely not.  I will not let this go.  Where are they?”

Although he wouldn’t tell me, I saw his eyes dart to a closed door.  I took that as a hint, breaking free from Aunt Kathryn’s hold.  I slammed my body weight into the door and pushed through.

They were all there, seated around a table, facing me.

“Grace,” my father’s right hand man stood to address me, “we’re in the middle of something.  Can we talk later?”

“No.  Listen, you need to know, Sean Cassidy was the one who killed my father.”

“Grace, no.  We understand you’ve been through a lot—”

“Yes, he did.”

“I think I know who I have and haven’t killed.”

The sultry, deep voice stopped my heart from beating.  It couldn’t be.  The chair directly in front of me swung around.  It was Sean.

“No. No.”  I backed up, but the wall behind me stopped my steps.

“Grace, it was all a misunderstanding, but I did not kill your father.  I would never have done that.  I had too much respect for the man.”

“I watched you!”  I screamed at him.  I didn’t care who heard me.

“You didn’t.  You were traumatized.”  He looked at Mr. Muscles.  “You saw the whole thing, right?”

“I did.  It was Ryan.  I told her that before she stormed in here.”

“He’s lying!” I screamed.  “They’re all lying!”

“Grace, it was Ryan Cassidy, my nephew.  The man who seduced you only to get closer to your family.”  He reached his hand out to touch me.  I couldn’t get away.  His fingers caressed my arm.  “It’s all right.  I’m not going to hurt you.  I would never hurt you.”

His fingers moved to my chest.  To any outsider, it might look as though he was trying to calm me down, but I knew what he was doing.  He was getting in my head.

The rest of the room disappeared.  It was only Sean and me and the memories he pulled along with him.

There was another voice.  “Sean has offered to help us get revenge against the Cupids
.”

“Now would I do that if I was the one who killed your father?”

“What’s your angle?”  I whispered, so only he could hear me.

He gave me a crooked smile.  “There’s no angle, sweetheart.  I just go where the power is.”

With that, he pressed his thumb into my sliced sternum, reminding me that he was in control.  I could feel the stitches giving way to the pressure.

I looked to the group, hoping to find one friendly face in the crowd, someone who would believe me.

“Don’t trust him.”

They all looked at me as though I was a sad child, making up stories in my head. 

“Get her out of here.”

Mr. Muscles pulled me from the room.  I was too shocked to fight him.  Then, at my own request, he took me home.  He escorted me up to my room and opened the door, allowing me to step inside, and then shut the door behind me.  I really was a prisoner.  The evening had gone exactly the way Sean would’ve wanted.  He had won. 

I circled my room, trying to convince myself to calm down, but to no avail.  I needed a break from my thoughts, from my memories.  I needed to escape the rabbit hole I was beginning to tumble down.

The old sycamore scraped against the window, pulling me from my trance.  Maybe this wasn’t the end, maybe there was another way.  I eyed the strong branches, calculating, planning.  Sean had only won that round.  I had a way out.