Crash and Burn (1)

you don't believe in redemption?

♚ ♛

FROM A ROOFTOP IN Washington Heights, I could still see the flames. Smoke followed behind, as they fought the fire that Soren and I had set more than an hour ago.

Against a dark skyline, it burned into the sky, leaving a dull orange glow along the ghosts of buildings and bridges, an emblazoned warning to the city that never sleeps that we were done running.

Beside me, Soren chuckled, his cigarette hanging from his lips.

He seemed to paint a perfect picture. Laced with gasoline and gravel, his messy hair hung over his forehead, a torn sweater covering his torso as he leaned against the railing of the rooftop, watching the Bronx burn. And all he could do was laugh. He was the perfect criminal—the perfect ruthless, cutthroat, callous criminal.

Staring at his profile and watching the dim light of the city dance across his expression, I did want to paint him. It was a momentary pause in a reckless plan, in a never-ending battle, and I wanted to keep it forever.

Soren didn't seem real to me. He felt like something that would slip through my fingers.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" Soren mused, smoke momentarily obscuring my view of him.

I almost panicked when I blinked, wondering if one of these times, he might just disappear. I was still watching him in silence, examining him through lines of smoke to decipher some sign of regret or guilt or shame in his eyes.

He'd been a part of it.

"What's the matter, princess? You regret it?"

Shaking my head silently, I felt an ache in my chest. I faced the picnic table that I was sitting at, my eyes tracing the wood to avoid searching Soren for something that I knew didn't exist. "Do you?" I finally breathed, wondering if he'd ever regretted anything.

"Why would I?" He tossed his cigarette aside and tugged me up off the bench with one hand. I didn't fight it. "I'm not the one with the conscience."

His words snapped that thin strand of patience that had kept me together until now. He had been a part of it.

A ruthless, cutthroat, callous criminal.

Without hesitating, my fist cracked against his cheek. Soren's head snapped to the side, and it was a slow burn when he turned to look at me. Seething angrily, my words came out sharp. "You're a bastard."

That was all I could muster up. My vision blurred momentarily, but I pushed back the tears and threw another punch at his chest, frantically blinking back the dark images I'd conjured up in my mind of Soren in that basement. In a dirty, windowless darkness, surrounded by smoke and vulnerable women, it was unnerving how easy it was to fit him into it.

The man that I'd come to trust. The man that I still trusted, despite the way those visions tried to choke me. 

He'd told me that he worked for him the first night that we met.

His hands caught mine tightly, and he pulled me into his body. When I looked up through my lashes at him, I went silent. There was no anger in his eyes. There was no impending threat or warning. They were filled with a desperation that I knew all too well.

Finally, a hint of remorse seemed to blanket that ocean, like a thin layer of ice that was threatening to break. Without realizing it, my breath caught. "I know it doesn't change anything, Lacey, but I do regret a lot of what I did with him."

Breathe.

Something in my bones softened with the timid tone he gave me, but he was right. It didn't change anything. "I don't believe you."