***
Aeron arranges everything so life will be easier if you obey him. Right from the start, I’ve been aware of this but in the end, I was just so tired. Now I push the key into his door and burn with nervous energy. My blood cooks with it, veins weighted with bubbled clots.
I knew things were bad when he told me to come to his apartment. Knew things were worse when Harvey ushered me around the back of the building, away from the writhing nest of paparazzi who know all too well they don’t need the favor of disgraced Mr. Lore.
This morning, I’d have been secretly delighted to arrive when Ash and Ethan are here. Not now. Not after the things I’ve read, the secrets that have unfurled in dark pixels to consume my carefully arranged confidence. I work so hard to seem like any other girl, but I am not. And this is finally the end of the line. When I got into the elevator earlier, the entire world felt like it was in free-fall. That was ages ago but the sensation won’t stop. Instead I’m tumbling on the inside, twisting as I reach for edges too crumbly to get a grip on or anonymous hands that are too far to reach. Everything I’ve built with Aeron is coming apart, brick by brick and sin by sin.
After my bout of sickness, I cleaned up what I could in the office. Begged Finn, my second in command at SilentWitn3ss, to lend me the spare shirt he keeps for when things go wrong in the test lab. Then I fled back home, taking a cab all the way, and hid in the shower for clammy, lukewarm hours. I thought about whether all this mattered if I’d never forgiven him anyway. I wondered whether I’d forgiven him so much, I’d just forgotten what it felt like to resist.
Fast-forward and I’m stepping into the modern, airy space of Aeron’s penthouse apartment. Inky-black night cascades through floor-length windows to paint shadow stripes across the living area, and the kitchen, which is usually cluttered with half-finished juice cartons or crayon drawings, is conspicuous in its silence; the only noise creeps from farther down the hall.
Ethan appears from one of the bedrooms, his slow gait and withered expression evidence of his lack of sleep. His eyes widen as he recognizes me; we’ve crossed paths here and there, but only ever in Aeron’s company and for seconds at a time.
“Oh…hey.” He reaches up, absent-mindedly patting his messy hair. “Were you at the door for long? Only I didn’t hear anything, so—”
I hold my key up.
“Ah. Should’ve known, huh.”
I glance about the dark hall, past the puddle of lamp light spilling from Ash’s open door. It’s past nine; I’m surprised he’s not in bed. “Is Aeron here?”
“In his room. Is he expecting you?”
“Maybe.”
“Right.” Ethan’s forehead creases with pained sympathy. “Only he’s…well, he’s not in the best of moods.”
Neither am I.
“Do you mind if I go find him? I won’t disturb bedtime,” I add.
“Oh, bedtime is way off,” Ethan groans. “Between the packing, and the excitement and stuff…it’ll be midnight before we get anywhere near sleep…”
“Packing?”
“Leo?” Aeron emerges from the end of the hall. He cuts an odd figure, hunched slightly in disheveled work clothes. “About fucking time.”
I point down toward his room. “I’ll be in there,” I mutter to a wary Ethan, striding past before he can enquire further.
Aeron slams his bedroom door behind me and then skulks to the bed…which is smothered in old photos, documents, paperwork. A single lamp spews gold over the bed. The place reeks of dust. He sits in the middle of it all to sort through with fervor, each sheet fired from his fingers like a useless hand of cards.
“Nope. No,” he says to himself, scraping up another heap of paperwork.
“Aeron?”
“What?”
“What the hell are you doing?”