Dark Destiny by Avelyn Paige

StoneFace

Forty-eight hoursin solitary confinement is hell when your brain is all fucked up with contradicting thoughts of a beautiful woman you can’t get out of your head, putting an end to one man’s life, and desperately needing to put an end to another’s.

“Where have you guys been? It’s been two days!” Delilah cries, rushing over as Buddy and I are led into the kennels.

“We were in big trouble,” Buddy tells her, but he keeps walking toward the kennel, eager to be reunited with Rocco.

Delilah watches him go, then looks at me with about a million questions in her eyes.

“We were on vacation,” I say. “But instead of some sandy beach somewhere, we opted for a six by eight cell, where they serve us mushy food and keep us from talking to anyone else with a pulse.”

Delilah’s eyes grow wide. “Are you okay, though?”

We make our way through the massive room toward the kennel area, where poor Penny has been locked up in her own form of solitary. “I’m fine. Buddy’s fine. They locked down everyone that was in the yard the other day. Dude got shanked, and they were trying to figure out who did it.”

“Did they?” she asks. “Figure it out?”

Shrugging, I hold the gate open for her, motioning for her to step inside. “Fuck if I know. They let us out, and that’s all I gave a shit about.”

Penny sees us coming, and her yips of excitement pierce the air, as well as my eardrums, but I’m so fucking happy to see her, I don’t even care. “Hey, little lady,” I coo, popping open the door on her kennel and watching as she comes barreling out, her whole ass getting into the effort of wagging her tail. “Look at you.” I lean down to pick up the vibrating ball of fluff, but she dodges my hand and continues to bounce all around me like an absolute lunatic.

I chuckle, attempting to pick her up three more times, and then finally give up. Careful not to squash her, I lower myself to the ground and hold my arms out.

Penny barrels onto my lap, her tiny, mile-long tongue licking me anywhere and everywhere she can reach. “Did you miss me?”

Delilah grabs a milk crate and pulls it closer. Taking a seat across from me, her face splits into a wide, radiant smile. “I think it’s safe to say, she did.”

I smile, nuzzling Penny, and then refocus my attention on Delilah. “Did you?”

Delilah’s face freezes in an instant, her smile fading. I’d caught her off guard. Though I hate to see her uncomfortable at all, it’s nice to know that my presence affects her just as much as hers does mine.

After a moment, her face grows serious, and I know that our lighthearted moment is no longer. “Why did you steal that police car?”

Well, shit.

Her question doesn’t have a simple answer, but considering she asked at all, I’m willing to bet she knows that.

This is a pivotal moment for us. I can feel it, and I know she can feel it too.

No matter what happens, in every moment of our lives, we always have two choices. We can face our fears or uncertainties by moving forward, or we can stay in the place we’re at by not bothering to take a step at all.

If I’m to have anything with Delilah, I need to take that fucking first step.

“I needed to be sent here,” I admit after an extremely long pause.

“Here,” she repeats. “Like, to Travis County Jail?”

I nod.

Her nose wrinkles with confusion. “Why on earth would you want to come here?”

One quick glance around tells me we’re as alone as we are ever going to get in jail. The guard that likes to flirt with her is on the far side of the massive room, but he can’t hear what we’re saying. The kennel itself is empty, except for us. Even Buddy had collected Rocco and gone right out to the training area, excited to finally be back with his friend.

This is it. Telling Delilah this will either make or break our relationship.

“There’s a man here that needs to die.”

Her eyes never waver from mine, but I hear her breath catch in her throat.

“Why? What man?”

I force myself to hold her gaze as I say, “The man that killed my sister.”

Closing her eyes, she swallows hard. We stay that way for several minutes. Her with her eyes closed, me with my eyes on her.

Finally, she looks me in the eye and scoots her milk crate closer. “You had a sister?”

A breath of dread I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding evacuates my lungs. If she hasn’t run away screaming by now, I doubt she will now.

“Twin sister. I was older by seven minutes, and I reminded her of that all the time.”

The way she’s watching me right now, with her eyes so soft and understanding, is like a dagger to my soul. Nobody has ever looked at me that way. I’m not even worthy of her understanding, but fuck me, I crave it almost as much as I crave her.

I go back to petting Penny, who is now curled up on my lap, unable to meet Delilah’s caring gaze. “She was murdered by an inmate here,” I continue.

Penny’s eyes fall closed as I run my thick, tattooed fingers through her hair. She’s my distraction from the reality of the pain in my heart. She’s grounding me, making this easier to share with Delilah.

“I’ve never told anyone this before,” I confess.

“Never?”

“No.”

“Sounds like a lot to carry all on your own,” she notes, her voice sincere.

My jaw tightens as I feel a lump growing in my throat. My heart aches, not used to being able to feel this pain.

“What was her name?”

It’s hard to force her name from my throat and out of my mouth, but I manage to say, “R-Reba.”

I haven’t said my sister’s name out loud in almost eighteen years. It wasn’t because she was a secret, or that I was trying to forget. It was because the very thought of what had happened to her had become my soul reason for still fucking breathing.

I was going to get revenge on the people who had murdered her.

“Rhett and Reba,” Delilah vocalizes with a smile. “I like it.”

I tip up the corner of my lips in a half-assed smile. “My momma wanted our names to match.”

Delilah considers that. “Where’s your momma now?”

“Gone.” I keep my gaze on Penny, because if I look anywhere else right now, I might break apart. “She wasn’t around much when we were growing up. Worked several jobs just to pay the bills. She died just a couple of months before Reba. My old man died of a heart attack when I was just a kid.”

Her hand rests on top of mine. It’s so tiny and warm, creamy smooth on top of my rough tattooed skin. She gives it a tender squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Rhett.”

“No touching!” the guard hollers from the other side of the room.

She rips her hand from mine, but the ghost of her sweet touch still lingers. The guard is walking toward us, and our moment of solitude is about to come to an end.

“She wouldn’t want you to live like this,” Delilah says, dipping her head to meet my eyes. She stares at me a beat before continuing. “Your momma or your sister. They wouldn’t want you to live your entire life to avenge her death. That’s not living.”

My jaw hardens, but I hold her gaze. “That fucker killed my sister. He fucking tortured her. She didn’t die easily, and he won’t either. I’ll make sure he feels the same pain and terror he caused her.”

Pressing her lips together, she leans forward, lowering her voice so the approaching guard doesn’t hear. “Do you think Reba would want this pain on your soul? Do you think she would want you to be in jail for the rest of your life, all because you were avenging her death?”

My chest grows tight, and I try to release the scowl I know is showing on my face.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, Rhett, but your sister and your momma wouldn’t want this. They would want you to live. To have a happy life. Your sister didn’t get a chance to have that. You need to be living a life for yourself and for her. That’s what she would want.”

The guard approaches then. “A little more distance,” he orders, motioning for Delilah to push her milk crate farther away.

I can’t help but smirk when she rolls her eyes and makes a show of dragging the crate a few inches away and plopping her ass back down on it. “Like this?”

The guard’s jaw pops, and he nods before moving just a few feet away to lean against the wall, his eyes on the whole room, but his ears most definitely on our conversation.

Delilah ignores him. “Your sister’s memory shouldn’t cause you pain. It does because you’re focusing on her death. And I didn’t know the girl, but I am one, so I’m willing to bet that Reba would hate that for you. She would want you to remember the good stuff from when she was alive. Her life may have been short, but her death was just one terrible moment amongst so many wonderful ones. Those are what you should focus on.”

I hate her words, but I love that she has the courage to say them. And I know that at least part of what she’s saying is right. Reba would kick my ass if she knew I never told people about her. Or, at least, she’d try to.

Just then, Elscher wanders into the kennel and glares as he wanders past us.

As much as I think Delilah is right, I don’t know how to move on and be happy as long as that fucker is still drawing air into his lungs. Reba would be pissed, but I can’t let this shit go. I can’t let him live another day while my sister is in the ground.