Burning Truths (Consume Me #2)

3. Kenna

Chapter Three

KENNA

The sound of running water wakes me from a restless sleep. Rolling over in the black silk sheets, my body stretches out and I almost forget where I am. That feeling you have right before you fully wake up, not quite asleep, but your mind is drowsy. That’s where I find myself forgetting where I am until the small details start to creep in. The smell of sweat and urine, the hollow sound of the room being too empty, but most importantly it’s the man standing at the foot of the bed.

Hank fucking Harlow. The man our fathers went to college with. The one man that my father trusted outside of Alec, yet here I was laying in a room that he designed. All in the name of trying to break me while my father sits behind bars for a crime he committed. The pictures on the wall make my stomach ache with disgust. It’s familiar in a way I wish it wasn’t. A replica of a room I was in recently and it’s the only reminder I have of the last time I laid with Ryker. The matching bed posts a constant reminder of the ones I held on to mere nights ago.

All four walls are plastered in photos of me, every inch of space covered in shade me. In my dorm, on campus, leaving the prison, in the cemetery. Zoomed in shots of me with Ryker in the garden on campus, but what startles me is seeing Rykers face. His entire face was removed from the picture altogether. My eyes skate across each one, avoiding the looming black hole threatening to swallow me whole. I pull myself up against the headboard, still avoiding the vacant dark eyes across the room, I take in my surroundings. Ryker’s bedroom, or the exact set up of it, is blanketed in snapshots of my life over the past few years. My bottom lips tremble when I come across photos of a younger me sitting in the Stone’s garden reading a book.

“How-?” I start, but my words trail off when I see it.

Wetting my lips, my gaze trails from the last photo, up to the man before me. His appearance is different today. His stubble is growing out as if he hasn’t shaved. The salt and pepper coloring has shifted into a slightly darker color unnaturally. Shaking off the observation, I look away to keep from giving him the wrong idea when my eyes fall on a small stack of clothes at the end of the bed.

I stare at them for a few moments before he leans down to place the palms of his hand on the bed. The mattress dips from the weight, but I keep my focus trained on the threat ahead of me. The searing heat of his stare scorches my skin, making me want to peel it off me. Hunger and greed fight for dominance behind the mask he wears, but he doesn’t wear it well. I can see right through it to the devil inside.

“I brought you some clothes to change into. The shower’s waiting for you, Princessa.”

He motions with his hand to the door off to the right corner of the room. The need to feel clean wars with the need to prevent being vulnerable around him. I’ve seen what he can do when upset, but I know that’s just the surface of his capabilities. With one last look around the room I make the mental note that he isn’t just obsessed with me, but Ryker as well.

“Thank you.” I say, my voice raw.

The attempt at a smile must work because he steps back with a wild grin. It takes fucking effort to keep my arms steady as I crawl from the center of the bed. The only thing I find myself thankful for is his distaste for urine because that’s the only reason he hasn’t ripped my pants off. For fucks sake I’m almost disgusted with myself, but I shove that thought from my mind only to replace it with Ryker. Where is he? Is he too distracted with burying Cole to realize that I’m gone? Does he even care after what his brother did? If he doesn’t blame me, I sure as fuck do.

Bringing my legs forward, they dangle off the side of the bed, my ass firmly placed on the edge while I try to get my bearings. My hands tremble from the lack of food, my stomach rumbles with hunger as I spot a small cream colored plate on the nightstand. Sitting in the center of the palm sized plate is a sandwich. Nothing special, nothing extra, just a single square filled with something unknown. My stomach lets out another gurgle that has my cheeks turning red.

“I brought you a little gift, but first I want you to shower and eat. Once you're done, knock on the door and I’ll bring you a little surprise.”

He studies me for a few moments, the heat of his stare burning into the side of my face, but I keep my gaze trained on the food. My body urges me to scarf it down as fast as possible, but something in the back of my head tingles with awareness.

“Don’t worry, Princessa. I have no wish to control you with substances that will taint the way you taste.” His words don’t match his tone, so I take the threat for what it is.

Nodding in agreement I clear my throat, “After I clean up.” I state.

Pushing to a stand, Hank hoovers off to the side to make sure I don’t face plant. Or run, both options on my list. Shoving down every bit of snark that threatens to spill from my mouth I grin, which I'm sure looks more like a grimace. It takes a few minutes to fully make it to the bathroom where I take the liberty to shut the door in his face. I would rather be struck by lightning than have him see me naked.

No thank you.

Once I step under the scalding water, the fresh tears break through the wall I’ve kept up. I cry thinking about Cole, thinking about West and the heartbreak he’s going through from losing his best friend. I cry for Ryker losing his little brother and for me. I cry for the girl I was before the fire, before I was taken. For the old me that had a group of brothers who would do anything for her and for the girl who had to find her best friend’s lifeless body dangling from the ceiling. . No matter how hard I try to fight off the knowledge, I know where this is heading. He’s been stalking me for years from the look of the photos. Hank seems to not only have an obsession with me, but a vendetta against the Stone family. Or Ryker himself. Either way I plan to get to the bottom of this shit.

Rinsing the last of the conditioner from my hair, I let my forehead fall to the cold tile. Darkness covers me when my eyes drift closed, allowing myself a second to succumb to the situation I’m in. All thoughts go back to my training and what the best method is for this type of torture.

“Stop!” I wail.

My legs thrash, kicking out at the man that grips both my legs, missing with each one. A thick black mask covers the man’s head, but his sleeves slide up when he starts to drag me from my bed, giving me a sneak peek of a small tattoo. A hand tattoo that looks so familiar. One that I saw just this morning, so my body relaxes. The fear drains from me, leaving only annoyance and a touch of anger.

“Dad?” I ask.

He stills, his hands dropping his hold, allowing the blood to rush back under my skin. That’s going to bruise tomorrow. Rolling my eyes I kick out one last time to nail him in the knee.

“Shit, hellcat. Easy on the old man.”

Sitting up in the center of my bed I pull my knees into my chest wrapping my arms around them.

“What’s going on dad?” I ask, a little freaked out.

I mean here it is the middle of the night and my dad is dressed like a damn maniac while attempting to drag me from my bed. What the hell is going on? Our training sessions never start like this, so I don’t know what to make of it. He lets out a deep sigh before slowly lifting the mask to reveal his sweaty face. My brows dip down at the worry that flashes behind his eyes before he blinks it away.

Looking away his massive hand swipes down his face, “You need to be prepared for anything, hellcat. That’s all we are trying to do with your training. You never know when someone will cross the line to get to you.”

“We?” It’s the only word that sticks out from his sentence.

My eyes try to adjust in the dark, looking for another figure in the shadows, when Alec walks from behind my bedroom door. Black mask in hand, his eyes assess me where I sit.

“Uncle Alec?” I murmur.

A loud bang pulls me back to the present and out of the past. One where my father is a free man and the Stone brothers’ dad is still alive. If I’m going to understand why Hank has me, I’ll need to uncover what happened between them. Why he would kill either of them, but more importantly why he’s doing this to me. Shutting off the water, I reach for the white towel sitting on the counter of the bathroom. It’s a decent sized room with a beautiful stand up shower with black tile and gold fixtures, but even that little reminder has me feeling dizzy.

Snap out of it Kenna. Stop being so weak.

Shaking my head, I continue to towel dry. The cold breeze floating through the cracked door sends a chill down my spine. Walking forward my bare feet slap against the cool tile that leads to the cream colored carpet in the bedroom. My eyes stay on the floor knowing what I’ll see if my gaze lifts higher. The organ in my chest hammers faster behind my ribcage with each step closer I come to the massive king size bed. There on the bedside table is the plate still in its spot. Bypassing the food that screams for my attention, I opt to get dressed first in case he comes back in the room and that’s when it hits me. The noise that jolted me back to the present was the door slamming closed and now I’m curious.

Hank has left me a tight pair of black leggings with rose lacing on the calves and an oversized grey t-shirt. No underwear. How fucking fitting for a pig like Hank Harlow. I’m tempted to throw on my dirty ones, but then the image of the piss stain at the foot of the chair comes to mind and I decide against it. He’ll pay for every action he’s taken since I got here. For every death or painful thing he’s caused. When I finally get my hands around his throat I’ll make sure to drain the life from his eyes. For Paige. For Alec. For my father. For Cole.

The last name has my throat closing, unable to process the loss, the overwhelming feeling of it being my fault. It’s too much to stomach, when I start dry heaving nothing comes up, there is nothing left inside me. Yellow foam and stomach acid bubble into my mouth, forcing its way out until I have no choice but to spit it all over the floor. The taste sours on my tongue so I reach for the glass of water beside me and chug half of it down. Swallowing down the bile, I stare down at the bread wondering if that would settle my stomach. I’m far too weak to refuse food, but I’m still weary of his plans for me.

Fuck it.

I decide to pick the bread off the top first and slowly eat that to prevent myself from getting even more sick. It only takes seconds before I’m done and wanting more, so I lift the warm meat and remaining bread up and bring it to my nose. Inhaling, I breathe in the scent of deli meat and soggy bread, but find myself satisfied with that. I start to take a decent sized bite, but end up shove the entire fucking thing in my mouth. My stomach groaning at the sudden fullness of food and liquid after being empty. I’ll regret eating so fast later, but I can’t bring myself to care. Drinking down the last of the water I dash into the bathroom to refill the cup and sit at the edge of the bed. Now that I have access to water, the least I can do is clear my head enough to think of a way out.

After struggling to keep my head down I finally convince myself to be the Kingston I was born to be and face my problems head on. Lifting my eyes to the madness surrounding me, I fully take in each photograph plastered to the wall. From the age fifteen all the way to last week, each stage of my life, every milestone, everything. It’s all documented right here in front of me, but Ryker is gone. Scratched out and replaced. Absorbed by greed and evil. He’s trying to imbed himself in my life where the Stone brothers are, but I won’t let that happen. They belong to me just as much as I belong to them. Even when I’ve caused unforgivable damage to their family. I’ll be their princess again, even if I have to carve my name on the walls of their hearts.

Ryker, I’m coming home to you. I bleed, you bleed remember?