Just the sight of watching my brother play without me. Free of sin.
Or at least that’s what he claimed.
And what Mom always believed because I accepted punishments for his wrongdoings in silence.
So, why stay quiet now?
“I don’t care what happens to you,” I mutter beneath my breath.
I only manage one more step when suddenly a hand is roughly gripping my curls and spinning me back around. A gasp leaves my tongue, and my heart bottoms out when I come face-to-face with two fierce hazel eyes. That dark spot in his right iris is sprouting, turning it nearly black.
He steps into my personal space and bares his teeth, tightening his grip on my hair until my skull is laced with pain.
“You’ve made that clear, baby, and it’s so fucking unfortunate for you that I care about what happens to you.”
I push against his chest, but he doesn’t budge, and I’m breathless as I bite out, “Why the fuck would you care?”
He leans in impossibly closer, a cyclone of electricity forming in the room. Every time his skin slides against mine, a storm cloud swells, and lightning strikes somewhere around the world.
How many others have shipwrecked because he can't stop touching me?
“Because I want to see you suffer. And I will do everything in my power to make sure that happens. If that means keeping you alive just so I can tear you down, so be it.”
Then, he harshly pushes me away, causing me to stumble and land right on my ass, a harsh breath forced from my lungs.
“Asshole,” I wheeze, tears stinging the backs of my eyes while a shooting pain races up my spine.
God, I can’t fucking stand him.
Once again, he ignores me. Instead, returning to sit on the bed, leaning back against the stone wall with his feet crossed, skimming over the lighthouse book as if he doesn’t have a care in the fucking world.
But last time I checked, I've been ruining lives far longer than him.
Chapter 15
Sawyer
“What are you doing?”
The screech that leaves my mouth sounds like it came straight out of Godzilla. I'd be embarrassed if it wasn't for the fact that I'm too busy trying to claw my heart back down from my throat.
“Oh, my God,” is all I manage.
I’ve been knocking lightly on the walls in the hallway outside our room for the past few minutes, searching for a hollow point. I’m hoping there’s a hidden entrance to a staircase somewhere.
Enzo stares at me, an unimpressed quirk to his thick brow. I grab my chest, sucking in a deep breath to calm my erratic heart rate.
“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly. He holds up the lighthouse book.
“Looking for the beacon?”
I scoff, “No. Why would you think that?”
“You dog-eared the page.”
“Oh. Did I?” I mumble. I couldn't sleep last night, so I stayed up late with the book shoved against the window, trying to read as best I could with the webs of moonlight highlighting only a few words at a time.
The book is about Raven's Isle and its history, published in 2008. It has a record of what seems like every important event. Sylvester is even mentioned in it, named the official lighthouse keeper since 1978.
Over the years, he's assisted with hundreds of vessels. These waters around Raven Isle are perilous and rocky and are known for sending ships down under. Lighthouses can have several meanings, and this one was meant to both warn and to offer a safe haven if it was already too late.
There are dozens upon dozens of recounts of ships wrecking and Sylvester guiding them to his island. Every one of them lists the vessel, what it was transporting and where to, and even the names of known survivors and deaths.
Except there is no record of the prisoners. Nothing about a transport ship capsizing or any of the survivors washing up on Raven Isle. It doesn’t mean it didn't happen, but it only makes me wonder why it wasn't documented like the others.
“Why are you looking for the beacon?”
In the book, there was a brief mention of how Sylvester would guide the sea captains here while manning the beacon. Which means that he had to have some type of way to communicate while up there.
There obviously must be another set of stairs somewhere leading to it, and I was curious as to where. There could be another radio up there. Maybe a way to send out some type of distress signal and prompt a ship to come to rescue us.
Or just me.
It would be nearly impossible to hide a boat from Enzo. Then again, I could always lie and say he’s dangerous…
I shrug, attempting nonchalance. “I wanted to go stare into the light.”