Chapter 94 THE FAINT FEAR
CHAOS.
The punching bag swung wildly, the chain creaking with each hit.
My fists thudded against the leather, the repetitive sound keeping me grounded.
Sweat dripped down my face, soaking the collar of my shirt. My muscles burned, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. My thoughts were too loud, swirling with frustration and questions I didn’t want to answer.
Merrielynn.
She was always digging, prying into things that weren’t hers to uncover. It wasn’t enough that she had a habit of snooping—like when I caught her going through my photo album.
I shook my head and punched the bag harder.
What if I hadn’t stopped her in time?
What if she had turned to the next page?
She would’ve seen pictures of herself.
Would that have triggered something?
Would it have brought her memories back?
I hit the bag again, harder this time, as if I could beat the questions out of my own head.
Could amnesia even work like that?
Could a single image unlock the part of her mind that had been buried for so long? Or was it just wishful thinking?
The truth was, I didn’t know if I wanted her to remember.
It seemed like the obvious answer should be ‘fuck yes’. Of course I wanted her to get her memories back. But every time I thought about it, doubt crept in.
What if she remembered everything and hated me for who I’d become?
Merrielynn—the real Merrielynn—wouldn’t approve of Chaos Graves. I knew that much for sure.
She’d look at me the way she used to look at people she pitied, her eyes filled with disappointment.
I’d seen that look before, and I couldn’t bear the thought of it being directed at me.
The bag swung back, and I caught it with both hands, breathing heavily. My knuckles throbbed from the repeated impact, but the ache felt good. It was a distraction, something to focus on besides the mess in my head.
Maybe I needed a real fight. Sparring with a person instead of a bag. Someone who could hit back, make me feel something real.
The sound of my phone vibrating in my gym bag pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced at it, debating whether to check. Finally, I walked over, unzipped the bag, and grabbed the phone.
Father.
The name on the screen made my stomach twist. I stared at it for a moment, then let it ring. The buzzing stopped, and I tossed the phone back into the bag. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.
I headed for the showers, pulling off my sweat-soaked shirt and tossing it into the corner. The hot water scalded my skin, but I didn’t care. The heat was grounding, washing away the tension in my body, even if it couldn’t touch the storm in my mind.
But of course, the peace didn’t last.
My phone started buzzing again just as I was drying off. I sighed, walking over to check it. The same name lit up the screen. My father wasn’t the type to give up.
I answered, my tone sharp. “What?”
“Cormac.” His voice was calm, collected, like always. “I need you to come to dinner in two weeks.”
I frowned. “I’m busy.”
“You’ll make time,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “This isn’t optional.”
My jaw clenched, my grip on the phone tightening. “What do you want?”
“You’ll find out when you get here,” he replied, his words clipped. “I won’t accept any excuses, Cormac. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
And just like that, the call ended.
I stared at the phone in my hand, seething.
He always had a way of getting under my skin.
Whatever this dinner was about, it couldn’t be good. If it was something simple, he would’ve just said so over the phone. But no, he wanted me there in person, which meant it was either serious or manipulative.
Probably both.
I threw the phone back into my bag and finished getting dressed, my frustration bubbling just below the surface.
My father had always been a shadow hanging over me, pulling strings from a distance. No matter how far I tried to run, he always found a way to reel me back in.
And now Merrielynn was constantly poking at old wounds, digging into a past I’d spent years trying to bury.
She had no idea what she was asking for.
I walked out of the gym, the cool evening air hitting me like a slap to the face. The city lights glowed faintly in the distance, but they did nothing to lighten my mood.
Merrielynn wanted answers. She wanted to know me, the real me. But the truth was, I didn’t know who that was anymore.
Was I still the person she used to know? Or had Chaos completely replaced him?
The questions followed me all the way home, their weight pressing down on me like a fucking polar bear. By the time I reached my apartment, my shoulders ached from the tension.
I dropped my bag by the door and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. The silence in the apartment was deafening, amplifying the noise in my head.
I took a long drink, leaning against the counter. My thoughts kept drifting back to Merrielynn, to the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention.
She wanted to understand me, but she didn’t realize how dangerous that was.
If she ever found out the truth—about me, about everything—I wasn’t sure what would happen.
The thought made my chest tighten, and I shoved it aside, draining the rest of the water. I needed to clear my head, to figure out what the hell I was going to do.
But the truth was, I didn’t have answers.
Not for her. Not for myself. Not for anyone.
I tossed the empty bottle into the sink and headed for the bedroom, pulling off my shoes and collapsing onto the bed. Sleep didn’t come.
Instead, I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing.
Two weeks. That’s how long I had before the dinner.
Two weeks to figure out what my father wanted.
Two weeks to decide how much of myself I was willing to let Merrielynn see.
And two weeks to prepare for the possibility that everything I’d been trying to hold together might finally fall apart.
The thought lingered, suffocating, as I closed my eyes and tried to will myself into oblivion.
But the answers never came.
Only more questions.
And the faint, nagging fear that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to find those answers.