“That’s a lie,” Liam insists. “She was more than willing to hold the personal shopper at gunpoint at the dress shop when the Skulls bombed it. I guarantee she would’ve shot her. She was upset, but only about Ivy and Celeste being taken. I don’t buy that she’d give a shit at all about killing someone, if warranted.”
“Me neither,” I agree.
The Noires trained her for this world—even though they didn’t want her to partake in it.
“Regardless, I’d like to know why the whole goddamn city was swarming us,” Gage snipes.
Liam scrubs his hand over his mouth. “Ty’s right. It could’ve been the woman Rena ran into. The seven-minute time frame we were alerted to would align with that. If that was all. But someone inside, rummaging through shit at the same time we were ordered to be there, that’s suspect.”
“We weren’t given an exact time, only a window, so that could be coincidental.” I pause there for a beat, mulling it over. “Fuck that actually. There’s no way.”
“You know I don’t fucking quit,” Gage says, instantly chilling my bones. He’d never suggest calling it unless he believed we were trapped. “But I gotta wonder if you twoweren’tsupposed to make it out of there. The cleaners showed up early last night too. No mention of the security beams in the instructions. If we had gone back for the smoker, you’d have been trapped inside. We’ve fucking been here before.”
By that, he means, unknowingly walking into an ambush, securing the goods at the expense of our lives. That’s essentially what happened in our final SEALs mission. We weren’t expected to make it out. We were a sacrifice for the cause. And when we beat the odds, we became an asset the government was thrilled to keep as a secret weapon. Gage still carries a lot of bitterness over the ins and outs of his Navy days, so this hits too close to home.
“That’s all valid,” I concede. “None of this has been as clean as KORT work generally is, but who the fuck knows what we’re facing since we aren’t permitted any details? Either Balzano is fucking with us because he figured out what we did or there’s something KORT wants. And you’re right. It’s obviously worth our lives—”
“You’d think the other chairs would suspect if it was Balzano,” Liam contends. “And if they did, they’d pull us, alert us, or go after him. If we’re still in the dark, it’s because they were anticipating these issues and are in agreement that we continue.”
“That’s the problem,” Gage growls. “I’m all for their mindfucks. Makes sense because fuck knows, I don’t trust anyone. Ensuring their officials can handle the heat is justifiable. But this shit … if the last two close calls are any indication, we’ll be lucky if we don’t go home in body bags after the next one. So, fuck them. Time to be reborn.”
“It’s not that easy,” I snap. “It’s not just us anymore. They already fucking own her. If we disappear, her brothers are dead, and I can’t … she’ll be alive but broken.”
“Axel wouldn’t want you to risk her life to protect him,” Liam argues, snicking his lighter so the clinks and clanks blare into the still night. “They’ve got their own defenses in place.”
Gage nods, arms crossed over his chest. “Damn straight.”
“Wells would back us up on that too,” Liam tacks on, his hazel eyes serious. “No way he or Ivy knew what you’d be facing. One call to the Murphy line, and it all ends. None of the Noires would want us to risk it.”
My teeth clench because they don’t get it. As much pain as they’d endured, they managed to start fresh. Baggage, yes, but it penetrated them differently. It wasn’t escorted by guilt, by the kind of torment that eats away at your soul with every breath you take.
A beating heart but dead inside. An identity that never gets erased.
As tough as Rena is and as much as she strives to live in the moment, that loss would decimate her spirit. If anything happensto any of her brothers because of this, she’ll always harbor that shattering guilt. I won’t inflict that on her.
When she told me the story about the last real encounter with her father a couple of weeks ago, I felt enraged because she was answering a question about food aversions and nonchalantly slipped that in. And I watched her go hollow. Nearly two decades later, and his words ofnot enoughstill dim her light. It makes me want to dig up his bones and burn him all over again. This would be her kettle-corn nightmare realized—failing the whole family line. There’s no way she’d emerge unscathed from that. It would change her and us.
“I’m not protecting them,” I volley, my voice quavering as my arm flings through the air. “It’s her. She’s so full of life. I willnotbe the choice she made that cost her everything—her family, her soul, her sanity.” I drag my hand over the scruff on my jaw. “I promised her that I wouldn’t let this rob her of anything, that I would get us through this, so I will get her through this even if it fucking kills me.”
“Ty,” Liam sighs, pausing as though he can’t find the right words, his Zippo flame billowing in wait. “We’ve got you. You’re never alone. Let’s just sleep on it.”
Gage echoes the sentiment with, “Always, brother.”
“I know you do. Tonight was a fucking mess. I need time to think things through.” I smack them both on the back as I start for the door. “Sleeping it off is a good idea.”
They murmur some other encouragement, but I’m too in my head to absorb it.
Crunch. Squeak. Blood. One wrong choice.
The flickers of torment whiz by, flashes of all that was lost and all that can still be taken.
No. She needs me to be strong. I can’t fucking fall apart. I’ll figure it out. I’ll figure it the fuck out.
My internal mantra is upended by a Post-it Note on the bedroom door. She must have snuck out here before her bath to stick it there.
PSA: We’re not hating ourselves anymore. That bullshit is so yesterday.
XO,
