Page 3 of Cruel Titan

“Yes ma’am,” I say, forcing myself to walk out the door instead of giving her a hug. She’s the only person I fully trust right now.

I’m hustling down the hallway, though trying not to appear in so much of a hurry that I cause suspicion. Just as I’m stepping out of the automatic doors, Taylor calls my name.

Great. I thought I’d be good once I reached the doors but no such luck.

I turn, attempting to appear calm. “Yes sir?”

“I wanted to pass on my condolences. I’m really sorry about your dad.”

“Thank you.” My words are flat. I don’t care what he’s up to, this isn’t a conversation I want to have. “It’s been a long day, so I’m going to head home.”

“Hey, Quinn,” he calls, so I turn to look back at him. “Be safe on your way home.”

“You too,” I manage to squeak out. His words send an ominous feeling throughout my body.

Sliding into my car, I punch the start button and quickly shift into drive, racing out of the parking lot. His prompt sounded less like a concerned piece of advice, and more like a threat. The warning has me glancing in my rearview mirror every few seconds as I make my way toward Nathan’s house.

I’m not far from the hospital when I spot headlights behind me. They are following a short distance away, but make every turn I make, take every winding road I take.

“You’re just being paranoid.” I’m trying to convince myself, but the vehicle takes the next turn I make again. Speeding up, I put some distance between us before they soon catch up. Gripping the steering wheel, I watch as they close in the space between us before speeding around me. The white car is a flash as it zooms past me around the upcoming curve, disappearing when I get to the other side.

“Where did it go?”

Looking around I see rear lights far ahead. So, I was just being paranoid. They weren’t worried about me. Maybe they thought I wanted to race or something. Maybe not, but I don’t want to question anymore.

Glancing in my mirror, I make a concerted effort to relax as I continue home, turning up my music in hopes of drowning out my thoughts. And I do a good job of it until I turn into Nathan’s driveway. As I wait on the gate to open, a white car slows as it passes before continuing down the street. Stretching to look at the car, I don’t think it’s the same one, though it had passed so fast I hadn’t seen much of it. As soon as the gate is open, I pull through just enough for it to close behind me, waiting for it to securely shut before I drive around to the garage, pulling into my usual spot.

Darting from the car, I can’t get inside quick enough. Pulling the garage door closed as I slide out of the side entrance, I turn just in time to crash into a solid force. Stumbling back, I fight against the strong grip that clutches me, panic sailing through my veins.

“Quinn, what’s wrong?” Asher asks, pulling me against him as he shifts to look behind me.

I don’t see anyone else around, and it pisses me off that I’m relieved it’s just Asher. “Let me go.” I push out of his hold, moving around him as I hurry to the house though he follows a step behind.

“Talk to me. What were you running from?”

“You, asshole.” I say walking up to the door. But when I reach for the handle, he grabs my arm, spinning me to face him.

“Tell me what happened.”

“You happened.” I look down, noticing him in the same clothes from the service, except he has removed the jacket, unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, and rolled up the sleeves. “Were you following me?”

“Someone was following you?”

“Of course. Can’t answer a simple fucking question.” And even if he did, it’d be nothing but a lie. Yanking my arm out of his grasp, I open the door and step inside. Before I can shut the massive door, he puts his foot on the threshold, blocking it an inch from closing.

“No. I wasn’t following you. I’ve been here, waiting for you, because we need to talk.”

“No, we don’t need to do anything. You’ve wasted your time because I have nothing to say to you.” I attempt to shove the door closed in vain.

“Don’t you want to know the truth?”

Jerking the door open, I move to stand face-to-face with him. “The truth? My dad is dead. That’s the only truth that matters. I don’t trust a word out of your mouth. I don’t want to hear any of your truth because if you really wanted to tell me, you would’ve done it weeks ago instead of playing some fucked-up mind game with me. But once again, it looks like you’ve won because I hate the very sight, thought, or mention of you.”

Rotating around, I hurry upstairs not caring to know if he stays or goes. Sliding into my room, I lock the door behind me—not that it makes me feel any safer. I lean against the door in an attempt to stop trembling. I need Asher to believe I’m not looking into my dad’s death. I can’t do anything until I know who I can trust. And right now, the only person that I trust to help me uncover the truth is in a coma.

Looking down at my feet, the mud stains on the edges of my black ballerina flats bring memories of the day flooding back. Kicking off the shoes, I hurry to take a shower, wanting to wash away the grimness of the day, hoping the memories will ease up in the process.

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