Turning Point||Book 2

Prologue

Time went by in a blur. Before I could close my eyes and open them, two weeks had passed. I'd gotten away from everything—and was focusing on healing.

Sitting on a sun-baked bench at a park in Palermo, I got a call from an unknown number. Something told me taking the call would be a big mistake. Something told me it was him.

I neglected the voice in my head and hit the green button. Afterwards, a sensation traveled through my whole body, leaving me with goosebumps that felt like a second layer of skin. When I heard the man's voice, I was filled with equal amounts of conflicting emotions. Dread was present, and so was glee.

If I heard that voice, I would immediately know whose it was. Having that edge of possessiveness in his tone was rather enthralling for a man like him; it'd always sound like a gust of cold air decorated with razors. It always seemed to have a commanding quality.

It was Reed. And the sound of my own name pierced through my soul till I deadened. "Skylar."

I couldn't move an inch—God, I was so scared of his memory, his voice, even though I knew he was cities away. Well, perhaps I wasn't dumb to how long his arms could be. If he knew exactly where I was at the moment, black cars would surround the perimeter in less than two hours.

For another second, I focused on the huff and puff of his breath as I recalled him breathing life into my dying soul with powerful words of reassurance—then, when he used to regard me with emotions only I was familiar with. I kept listening to how he contemplated on the other end. Say something, don't say anything. It lasted for a while.

Then, he said, "You left the city."

He would know that. He got information on everything...from his clandestine underground world. His apparent fixation on me would only intensify his attention towards anything related to me, as he had stated earlier.

"It's safer. For us both."

"Staying here with me is safer, Skylar!" Reed lost his temper, his voice anything but warm and gentle.

As usual he was only speaking from a place of need, not reason. Because being the wise man that he was, he would know my existence was dangerous to him as much as his emotional attachment was to me.

"You didn't even say goodbye. I checked the hotel. I asked the reception manager and he told me you checked out that same night. What was so important you couldn't wait till I came for you?"

My sister, it was all because I could not wait another minute without being certain she was still alive, but going into that with Reed would be whimsical of me.

"I hate goodbyes," I said, my eyes brimming with the last drops of tears I wanted to waste on this Reed-situation. After now, no more. "There's nothing good about goodbyes."

"I would have made you change your mind. I can protect you from him. Morelli doesn't give a shit about you." His explanation seemed unlikely. I didn't trust it was true, I couldn't. He was a good actor, a master in his schemes, whilst I continued to fall for every unspoken excuse he was ready to give. "His plate it so full that I doubt he remembers you."

The first half of his statement, he was right about it. Reed had a compelling way he acted and spoke. Most of the time, he didn't know how bossy and forceful he was. And at other times, it was intended. He liked people to know he was in charge. Even when he spoke so calmly, it was almost as if he demanded immediacy.

He could have gotten me to remain in Bologna if I did meet up with him, which was why I blocked all contacts with him after I fled the city. But about the part of protecting me from the TIF, he'd made it clear before that he couldn't choose me over them. How could he protect me from them?

Being away was safer. Mostly for me.

"I'm happy now, Reed. If you care about me even just a little, you'd forget about me and move on with your wife. As it should be."

"I'm not moving on anything. What the fuck are you talking about? Look, Skylar, I don't want to forget about you." He persisted with an overtone of anger and frustration and plea. "Come back to Bologna. Let's make this right."

"No." Before I'd make another dangerous decision, I declined his dangerously enticing offer. I couldn't go back now. It had been more than a week since we last saw and I was doing just great. I wasn't feeling so dumped, I was moving on. It might not have been as fast as I wanted; there was progress regardless.

Feeling like I wasn't a worthless person anymore was the greatest victory for me. "Let it go, please." I ran my hand along my hair, that usual confusion that always followed his name was back to haunt me. "Don't call me, Reed. Good..."—nothing was good about goodbyes—"Good luck with your family, your life and your wife."

I hung up and immediately blocked that number too.

Looking around me, at the sun that was dropping and trying to kiss the earth, at the kids that played in the sand and their parents that watched over them, I felt normal. I felt at peace. The scenery was beautiful and harmless—no guns, no dark-colored suits. No hair trying to leave my skull or yells jerking me out of my spot. Just the beautiful laughters of happy people, and the idea that someday, this would be me.

But if I could be honest with myself about the state of this heart after finalizing things with Reed, I felt miserable. My misery wrapped so hard around my ecstasy and provoked this sense of emptiness. Worse, it refused to let go. It was because the hole Reed had drilled in my soul could not be filled by the laughters of strangers and the mirage of happiness. It could only be filled my him. His darkened presence—as twisted as that seemed—his gentleness, and I couldn't forget, his sex.

In the end, I learned a short but deep lesson: good things are only fleeting. They come to put a brief end to your misery, and when they leave, it is your misery that puts an end to you.
                                 —Epilogue.
Title: Snapping Point.
Author: X.T.B.