Conor Thames 2 - R.J. Lewis Page 0,121

already experienced in this sort of shit?”

Charlotte went mute, but her expression dropped. Ah, there it was. A look of doubt clouded her features. She blinked it away and quickly shook her head, determined to believe otherwise. Thames understood Charlotte saw the best in those around her, that she was clouded by thinking the best in Locke, but she didn’t know the man was happy to destroy lives. He had no attachments. He just had things. And she was just a thing to him. A thing he could use and use and use until she wasn’t of use anymore. He wouldn’t put it past Locke to tell her about the hole just to soften her enough to trust him.

“I love you, dove,” Thames said, solemnly, letting the anger go because it was pointless to get so wound up. Because he couldn’t stand to see her so down. He crawled into bed, moving to her swiftly. She startled when he pressed a harsh kiss to her lips, and then she sank into his touch. She loved him. He felt it and it calmed him. But he pulled away still and looked hard at her, uttering firmly, “But if Locke ever crosses the line, ever puts you in a dangerous situation, I will kill him.”

Charlotte stared at him in shock, and then…in fear.

Thames knew she could see his darkness. Could see what he was capable of. And he let her see it because he wanted her to know that he was being serious. That Locke wasn’t going to fuck her over without dying for it.

“He promised me you’d be okay in there,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She studied him intently, looking depressed at what she saw staring back. “He said nothing would happen to you.”

With a lifeless voice, Thames retorted, “He lied.”

Her lips parted and tears filled her eyes.

The alarm went off. The perfect disruption. She clamoured out of the bed, rushing to get ready.

Rushing to be away from him.

The Hole

He landed in the water in the worst way, fighting to find the surface. His arm cracked at something and he screamed – a soundless scream underwater – as the pain tore through every inch of his body.

He surfaced, arms flailing to stay afloat.

The current swept him away, moving violently. Many times his body seized and he was submerged in the waters, fighting for the break in the air.

He gasped, dry heaving as he gulped in water.

Every time he managed to stay afloat, to keep his eyes open, he focused on the sky. Trees whizzed by, a muddy portrait of autumn colours.

Then he felt his body drop suddenly.

He fell down a short waterfall, submerged once again underwater. He kicked and kicked for the surface. His limbs were having trouble moving. His legs felt stiff. As he just barely surfaced, he was distinctly aware his body was growing stiff. The cold was in his veins now. He was growing numb.

He would not last like this.

He cried out as he tried to swim, but the current was still moving heavily, carrying him away. The pain in his arm was debilitating. He swallowed more water, spat out bile and fought his hardest.

But it was no use.

The current kept steeling him down a fixed path in the waters. Like a beast itself, it possessed him whole, taking him further into its mouth.

He dropped again.

This time the drop felt long and the plunge at the bottom was deep. Conor’s stomach dropped. He kicked to the top. He could see rainfall creating tiny ripples on the surface. He broke through, gasping for air, crying out from pain and cold.

He kept waiting for the jarring movement of the stream.

But it was…still now.

He was in a large pool of water.

A lake.

Thunder tore through the skies again, lightning struck; it was the perfect reminder of today’s hell. He knew he would never think of thunder the same way again. That every time he heard it, he would be reminded of this day, of this very moment.

Blood pooled in his mouth. He gulped it down, unaware he’d been bleeding so heavy.

As he swam for shore, he felt his body shutting down. Exhaustion weighed him down as he trudged. It took everything in him to move, to reach the rocks, to climb up them.

He collapsed to the wet ground and buried his face into the dirt.

And then he sobbed.

He sobbed, spitting out blood, thinking of the man, of Max, of how far he had to go to save his own life and

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