Renegade (Heven and Hell #4)(70)
Author: Cambria Hebert

But it wasn’t Leviathan.

It was Sam.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sam

My truck was old, so when I put my foot all the way to the floor, it groaned in resistance. All these years I drove a piece of crap because I couldn’t afford anything better. I worked job after job so I could prove to everyone I could take care of myself. I stood up to China. I refused to cover up the carnage she left behind.

For what?

For everything I ever loved to be ripped away from me.

Everything I tried to be good for was gone.

My brain shorted out, completely blanking from thought, and all that remained was the anger swirling around inside me. I didn’t know why I was so angry. I didn’t understand why I felt like there was a hole in my chest the size of a bowling ball.

I cut the engine and sat staring numbly at the farm house. A little of the anger I felt faded away and was replaced with a familiar and warm feeling. This place meant something to me… but I couldn’t quite place exactly what.

I stepped into the house, the back door banging closed behind me. Gran was at the sink, facing away. “Well, there you are! I was wondering when you two would be home. Did everything go okay?” She turned, her face losing some of the happiness it held.

“Sam?” she questioned. “Is Heven with you?”

The names cut through me like a spear, tearing a rift the size of a valley inside me. I shot away from the door, through the kitchen, and raced up the stairs, ignoring Gran’s calls behind me.

I collided with something at the top of the steps, the body giving way and falling backward. Kimber let out a sharp sound of surprise and then looked up at me with annoyance in her eyes. I didn’t apologize. I just kept going, past her toward the space that called to me like a siren.

“Sam?” she said from behind.

I ignored her and threw open the door, stepping into the bedroom that my body craved. I took a deep breath. The familiar scent that was Heven filled me up inside, whistling through that hole that resided in my chest.

My eyes searched for her, sought out every corner, every place inside the room. They wanted to see a person that wasn’t there.

“Sam!” Kimber snapped, jerking my arm, drawing my attention.

I stared at her, not really thinking, only hearing that silence inside my head.

“What happened? Where’s Heven?”

“What are you doing here?” I snapped. My thoughts were jumbled, but I knew enough to know she shouldn’t be here.

“I left something behind. I came to get it before you got home.” Her voice took on a solemn tone.

What was I doing here? How did I end up here? This isn’t where I was supposed to be. I had things to do… damage to invoke.

I shoved my way past her and went back down the stairs. I could hear her following me, racing down the steps, but I didn’t turn back. In the kitchen, Gran stood there with this fearful look on her face.

“Sam. Tell me what’s happening.”

“I can’t,” I said, the words ripping from my throat. I physically couldn’t say the words. I could scarcely believe them. “Gotta go.”

I pushed out the back door, palming my truck keys, slid in, and revved the engine. Just as I threw it into reverse, Kimber jumped into the passenger seat. Her door slammed as I took off down the drive, throwing up gravel and dirt in my wake.

“Where are we going?” Kimber demanded.

I stared out the windshield, my mind not focusing on any one thing.

“Are we going to get Heven?” she asked.

That name, that name did things to me. It made me feel hollow but electrified at the same time. The sting of anger was sharp and I pushed down on the gas a little bit more.

“Sam! Tell me what’s going on. Where in the hell is Heven?”

I looked over at her. “Gone.”

Her face paled and I watched all the color drain from her skin, making her look as empty inside as I felt. “Watch out!” she screeched, grabbing the handle on her door and pointing to a car traveling right at us.

I jerked the truck to the left, the blasting horn from the oncoming traffic jumpstarting my brain. I swerved out of the path of the car and slammed into a light pole.

The truck’s old metal frame wrapped around it like a wobbly piece of Jell-O. Smoke from the ruined engine filled my nostrils as I lay hunched over the steering wheel, a warm trickle of blood running from my forehead and dripping off my nose.

Drip… drip… drip.

I shot up straight in my seat, my eyes seeking, looking, searching for something.

For someone.

Beside me Kimber groaned, sitting up and looking at me like I had four heads.

She wasn’t who I was looking for.

I flung open the door and got out, my legs wobbling as I stood there and stared numbly at the totaled truck. Something inside me told me I should be upset. Something told me I actually really loved this old truck.

I ignored that voice and then it died away until all I heard was silence.

People were stopping at the accident, talking to me, holding out their phones. I saw their mouths moving, but I heard nothing.

Someone to my right reached out and touched my arm. I turned to look at them, my eyes knowing exactly who I wanted to see.

But it wasn’t right.

I felt empty.

Kimber materialized beside me, telling people everything was fine, ushering them back their cars. Eventually, I tuned out her voice and whatever she was doing and I started to run, something shiny and red catching my eye, and I stopped, turned.

Someone who stopped to offer us help had a nice car. It was a candy-apple red convertible with a black ragtop. The door was open from where they’d gotten out and ran to help. The engine was running.

I heard the screams of protest from the owner as I got in and put the car in drive. Kimber opened the passenger door and leaned down, staring at me. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving.” I hit the gas and she ran alongside the car before jumping in. Her door slammed shut as I fishtailed around a turn and punched the engine once more.

I didn’t stop.

Why shouldn’t I take this car? Who was going to stop me?

No one.

“Do you have any idea how much magic it’s going to take to clean up the fact you just stole a car?” she screamed at me.

I sped through the streets of Portland, ignoring street signs and traffic lights. Finally, the fountain came into view, the portal to hell.

The portal to revenge.

I sped up, revving the engine and peeling the tires, aiming the car right at the stone fountain. It was like playing a game of chicken with something incapable of leaping out of the way.