The speaker in the room’s corner made a crackling sound, and then the pilot said, “We’re making our descent and will land in Hartford in twenty-five minutes.”
Marcello patted my knee. “We’re almost home.”
“Yeah.” I let out a pained sigh, dreading my next conversation with Olivia. “Home.”
After landing in Hartford,we took a helicopter to Devil’s Creek. The pilot landed on the helipad at the Salvatore Estate, where over a dozen of our friends and family waited for us.
I spotted Olivia in the sea of people, crammed between Sonny and Aiden. She wore a pair of black sweatpants and a red tank top that showed off her big tits. With dark hair slung over her shoulder, she stared with wide eyes as Marcello exited the helicopter first.
My heart hammered in my chest as I thought of all the ways I could tell Olivia that her brother was dead because of me.
She would hate me.
Leave me.
I already knew it.
So, I sat there for a moment, biting back the blinding pain in my jaw. I hadn’t had the nerve to look in the mirror on the plane. My face probably looked worse than it felt, like a truck had run me over and then backed up again.
After the Salvatores gathered around Marcello, each taking turns hugging him, I climbed out of the helicopter. I staggered to the side, struggling to maintain my balance.
Thankfully, Arlo Salvatore noticed and gripped my shoulder, pulling me into his arms. “Welcome home, son. I’m so sorry about Tate. He was a good man.”
I bobbed my head and choked back a sob. “I tried to save him.”
“You know what must be done, Drake.”
As the former Grand Master of The Devil’s Knights, Arlo was the leader of the secret society when I joined seven years ago.
“Yes, sir,” I said, but my voice lacked conviction.
Everyone wanted me to break the law and use Lovelace to take down our enemies once and for all. But I wasn’t ready to cross that line.
Olivia ran to me and squealed. “Drake. Oh, God.”
She shook her head in disbelief, staring at my face, and then her arms wrapped around me, crushing my broken ribs.
I let out a groan.
She pulled back and looked up at me. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”
“It’s okay. Just hard to breathe.”
I was still weak and tired, even after getting fluids from the medical staff onboard the plane. They checked our vitals, patched up our wounds, and scanned for broken bones.
Physically, I was okay and would fully heal within the next eight weeks. But mentally, I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
I didn’t deserve to be alive.
Since waking up on the plane, every awful moment in that cave flashed through my mind like a movie. Over and over, the images entered my brain, reminding me of the mistakes I had made. Thinking back to the moment we woke up in the cave, I should have done more.
I could have broken my thumb and freed myself from the zip ties. But I didn’t have the strength. Neither did Tate. I also couldn’t feel my fingers or hands from being restrained.
She hugged me again, her makeup streaked with tears. “Where’s Tate?”
On the helicopter ride here, I had rehearsed all the things I would say to her. All the ways I would soften the blow. But there wasn’t a correct way to tell her I royally fucked up and would have given anything to switch places with Tate.
“He’s dead,” I said, unable to fully meet her gaze.
