Spark, стр. 9

me. The wind was warm but fierce as it forced the water to rise and crash into the

shore. The scene was beautiful and full of promise, but my heart just wasn’t in it.

Even as the midday sun shined down on me, its rays warming my skin, I was

reminded of a moment that would never last. Whatever second of peace I would

receive would instantly shatter the moment I brought myself back to reality. This

was not home. This was not life. This was not me.

And technically, it wasn’t even me anymore, was it? Over the last few weeks, I

had come to terms with the fact that I was now legally dead. Jaden Morgan Wilder

was gone and buried six feet under, yet her killer was still at large.

Now that I was dead, I wondered if it gave me an advantage. I doubted it, though.

If it gave anyone an advantage, it was Darren. He could take me out in public, and

no one would bat an eye. I wasn’t the missing girl anymore. I was the found dead

girl in an alley, burned to a crisp after an apparent drug overdose. The search was

called off, and the world would eventually forget about me. At least, if that were the

case, I wouldn’t have to worry about any more gardeners recognizing me and

getting themselves killed.

I sat there in the sand for what felt like hours, watching the waves roll and crash

against the shore, while the wind blew through my hair. I felt numb inside. Like

those waves, everything was crashing around me, and I was helpless to stop it. I felt

useless, hopeless … and utterly fucked. Sid was probably right. I wasn’t helping my

condition by wallowing about my life, but I was running short on the positivity

bank.

What the fuck did I have to be happy about? I had no family now, no friends, no

one to talk to, no one to laugh with or cry with, no one to see me as something more

than just a pretty possession to keep. I was alive, I suppose, but was I really even

living? Not legally, that’s for sure.

Was this it? Was this the end? Was this the epitome of my life now? I hadn’t

even contemplated my original vendetta of revenge against Darren. I still wanted it,

but I was too emotionally exhausted to put any thought or emotion into it.

Vengeance would have to hold on the back burner for a while until my body fully

healed. Not much I could do until then, and that didn’t make matters any better.

The longer my recovery, the longer I would inevitably be stuck with Darren.

After what felt like hours of just staring into the horizon, I finally caught on to

Hank’s voice.

“Miss Jaden, it’s time to go back inside. It’s time for your dinner,” Hank said.

Not hungry.

“Miss Jaden,” Hank called again when I didn’t move.

Rolling my eyes, I nodded and slowly started to make my way to standing. My

lips formed into a tight line as I fought the ache in my side from the strain of my

movements, but it didn’t last long as my shadows hurried over to help me up. Once

I had the sand brushed from my legs and ass, they escorted me back to the house,

Benito picking up my shoes along the way.

As we walked back to the house, I finally got a chance to actually admire it. It

turned out to be a beautiful Spanish villa. With lots of high windows, orange tiled

roof, cream-colored brick, and rounded arches, it was a gorgeous compliment to

the island … but I didn’t give a damn about it. It was just another prison. More

pretty bars to cage me.

When we finally made it to the door, I realized being outside didn’t really make

me feel any better. I was still just as bloodthirsty as before. At least, I probably got

some freckles … but then I remembered Darren liked my freckles. Damn them.

Luckily for me, Darren was still stuck in some meeting off the island, so I’d be

having dinner by myself. I had it in my suite; Benito stood watch while Hank called

Darren to give his report of my day. I barely ate the soup that Ginsby had set down

for me before she retired for the night.

“You’d better finish eating that,” ordered Benito from the end of the room. I

turned to him with a scowl. Motherfucker hadn’t said anything to me all day, and

now, he was telling me what to do? Who the fuck did he think he was? I’d eaten

maybe a quarter of it but didn’t care to finish now. Instead, I narrowed in on him

and then slowly and deliberately pushed my bowl off the table like a thug life cat.

The plastic didn’t break since I wasn’t allowed glass, but the soup spilled all over

the floor.

“What the fuck!” Benito yelled as he marched over from his chair. He looked

down at the