It’s in the way my chest tightens when she hurts, the way my world shifts to orbit hers without question. She is mine, in whatever form she comes in. Fire and fury, softness and sorrow. If she needs me as a friend, I will stand beside her. If she needs me as a soldier, I will fight for her. And if she ever lets me love her the way I want to, the way I ache to, then I will never, never let her go. That’s the easiest promise I’ve ever made.
After a short while, shorter than I expected, Avery’s breath shudders, and she straightens. A hardness falls over her features, and right before my eyes, she builds herself back up, brick by brick. I almost tell her she doesn’t need to be strong, that I can carry her for a while longer, but she’s not putting on a front for me. She’s doing it for herself, to protect her heart from the pain.
“We’re back to square one,” Avery hiccups, her face tight and wet. “I-I just want her back. I need to know what’s happening to her.”
“I know, Swan.”
“It’s been weeks, Dax,” Avery’s brows flicker into a scowl. She wipes it away just as quickly, but I stroke my thumb over her cheek. She’s mad, and that’s understandable. We’re all mad, but we handle ourselves in different ways. To me, shouting and punching things won’t change the facts. Blaming each other won’t help us to work together. So I sit back and assess, stepping in for emotional support when needed. And right now, Avery needs reassurance.
“We’ll keep looking for as long as it takes.” Her watery blue eyes shoot up to mine. My entire world is held within their ocean depths, and although I wish I could offer her more, I refuse to lie. I can’t promise that we’ll find Meg. I can’t tell her everything will be okay. I just hold her steady until her shaking slows and her breathing evens out.
I’m in awe of her resolve. Time after time, Avery refuses to break. She inspires me to do the same—to be the man she needs and that the others can’t quite manage to be through no fault of their own. We all bring something different to the table, and I’m okay with that. Avery deserves it all.
“Guys, the text has come in,” Wyatt calls across the diner. Avery’s feet are moving before I’ve had a chance to let her go, leaving mestumbling on air. I follow the blonde flash, planting myself back in the chair where my mug still sits. Rather than take my side, Avery rounds the table and crawls into Huxley’s lap. His brows raise, the grinding of his jaw taking a break. She grabs at his arms, drawing them around herself like a suit of armor, and nods to Wyatt.
“Harbor Bridge Casino, Friday at seven. Avery comes alone.”Wyatt reads out loud, tossing the phone across the table to prove that’s all the text says. Axel runs a hand over his shaved head, and Garrett at his side goes still. I watch Avery closely, but she doesn’t give anything away. She’s resigned to the fact that we have five days to wait. Five days to plan and prepare. Five days to argue about the fact Avery is absolutelynotgoing anywhere alone.
My cousin, who happens to be the only one who actually drank his coffee and is on full alert, cracks his fingers loudly.
“I’ll get on tracking the number and pulling everything I can on the sender. The casino will have blueprints and a surveillance system we can use. Give me a day or two and I’ll have everything—” Thi is cut off by the scraping of Wyatt’s chair. It pierces the air like the slice of a blade, cutting through the growing tension.
“Where are you going?” Huxley demands, his face nestled against Avery’s. Wyatt waves his hand through the air, disregarding us all in one swoop.
“I haven’t slept in days, and we won’t solve anything else tonight. I’m going to bed.” And one by one, we concede to do the same, starting to leave the diner. I pause at the door while the rest of the Souls assist Axel into the minibus to peer back at Thiago.
“You coming?” I ask, seeing that he hasn’t moved from his seat. He has, however, reached across to grab the rest of the mugs and drag them closer to himself. He snorts, opening his laptop back up.
“Are you kidding? I’ve got a new project, a twenty-four-hour diner, and Wyatt’s credit card details. Come pick me up in five days.” I shake my head, not doubting my cousin’s excitement for a second. He enjoys nothing more than getting his teeth into his coding. The more illegal, the better.
I climb back into the minibus, settling beside an already-asleep Wyatt, his head lolled back against the seat. Now he’s been given a smallwindow of reprieve; it’s allowed him to settle at last. Avery is in a cuddle puddle with Axel and Garrett, the latter clinging on from the outside like an unwanted koala. Huxley drives us out of the parking lot, and I give a small wave to the Brazilian who has relocated into a booth, a fresh mug in hand and a relaxed smile on his face.
Well, at least Thiago is happy.
Chapter Forty Three
Seven o’clock at the Harbor Bridge Casino.
A sign hangs above the door, displaying a bridge logo to match its name. The lavish interior is visible through a set of gold-handled glass doors flanked by security guards. I hesitate for a moment before pushing through, my fingers slipping against the cool metal. As soon as I step inside, the scent of expensive cologne, stale smoke, and alcohol overwhelms me. The room is a dazzling assault of light and sound.
The ceiling is littered with shiny domes across its hand-painted expanse, cameras hidden within, so I can’t see the way they face. Crystal chandeliers illuminate the sea of bodies moving between glossy poker tables and flashing slot machines. The rhythmic clatter of chips being stacked and shuffled lies just beneath the hum of conversation, occasionally interrupted by the triumphant cheers or disappointed groans of gamblers.
Thankfully, Wyatt didn’t force us to stay in the motel all week but moved us to a lavish hotel a few blocks away. Aside from allowing Axel to recover in a bed that wasn’t more metal spring than foam, it gave Thiago a better chance at running his surveillance, sending the boys to circle the casino on various rotations and stake out the place.
Dax headed out this afternoon to acquire me an outfit that would blend in with the casino patrons and afford me a quick getaway should I need it. The jumpsuit is burgundy red, cinched at the waist by a thickbelt that hides a wire in the lining. My shoes are flat and lace up in a similar color.
I move forward carefully, my gaze flickering over the people gathered around the nearest roulette table. A woman in a backless red dress laughs, draping herself over a man too focused on his dwindling pile of chips to acknowledge her. His blond waves dance across his shoulders as his chocolate-brown eyes peek back to look at me. I quickly duck my head.
To my left, a group posing as businessmen in tailored suits sip whiskey, discussing stock trades as if they’re not mere college students playing a role. Everyone’s in place, at the ready, in case this all goes to shit. Axel has stayed back with Thiago, watching through the cameras and listening through the mic.
Under the guise of their protection, I manage to turn away from the Souls, the warmth of their stares creeping up the back of my neck. Everything about this place reeks of indulgence, of high stakes and desperation wrapped in a thin veil of elegance. I grip Fredrick’s phone tighter in my hand, scanning the crowd. I don’t know who I’m looking for or where I’m supposed to go.
There are too many eyes here. Some disinterested, some greedy, some watchful. I pass a craps table, my ears catching the dealer’s smooth voice calling the play. I force myself to walk deeper into the casino, keeping my head high and my stride steady even though my heart is thrumming against my ribs.
Guards keep their distance from the patrons, their black outfits blinking between the machines as we travel through the center aisle toward a set of opaque double doors at the other end. This section of the casino is weirdly muted, with only the tinks and clanks of machine levers being pulled or buttons being tapped. No one speaks, merely hunching forward to pull their turn and then leaning back on a huff in quick succession. Ahh, this is where those who are down on their luck and filled with despair come.
Distracted by a balding man who curses and slaps the machine, I feel a presence pass behind my back. Before I can react, a hand clamps around my wrist, a man I’m unfamiliar with guiding me through the crowd. I don’t resist him, allowing myself to be pulled along whilst casting quick glances up to his face. He’s thick-necked and tattooedwith a scar that disappears into his black hairline. Within his black suit, he carries the weight that makes people move out of his way. He gives me a look, assessing, before jerking his head to a door at the back of the casino.
“This way,” he says, his voice rough like gravel.
