“No.”
“Tommy.”
“No.”He yanks the bottle from my hand and sets it on the far side of the desk, out of reach.“You want to drink yourself to death after we get her back?Fine.I’ll hand you the bottle myself.But right now, we need you.Serena needs you.”
The words hit like physical blows.Each one landing exactly where it hurts most.
“I know.”My voice breaks, and I hate myself for it.“What if I can’t go through?What if I freeze?I can’t be the reason she...”
The sentence dies in my throat because finishing it means acknowledging the possibility.Giovanni has her.Cesare has access to her.And those men don’t keep prisoners out of the goodness of their hearts.
I’ve seen what traffickers do to women.
I’ve seen the evidence of horrors that haunt my nightmares.
And my wife is in their hands.
Tommy is quiet for a long moment.When he speaks, his voice is softer than before.“Remember what Mom used to say about love?”
The mention of our mother catches me off guard.“She said a lot of things.”
“She said love isn’t about deserving.”Tommy’s reflection meets mine in the window.“She said it’s about choosing.Every day, choosing to be brave enough to let someone in.Choosing to fight for them even when you’re terrified of losing them.”
“And look how that ended for her.”The bitterness in my voice surprises even me.“She loved Dad.She loved us.And they killed her for it.”
“She loved us knowing the risks.Knowing the darkness we’d been born into.She chose that love anyway.”
“Then she was a fool.”
The words hang in the air, ugly and sharp.I don’t mean them.But right now, with whiskey burning in my blood and fear clawing at my chest, everything feels like proof of the same fundamental truth.
Love destroys.
“Serena’s different,” Tommy says, reading my mind the way only a twin can.
“They’re all different.Until they’re dead.”
“Jesus, Shelby.”He stands abruptly, frustration radiating from every line of his body.“Listen to yourself.You’re so busy preparing to lose her that you’ve already given up on saving her.”
“I haven’t given up.”
“No?Then why are you drinking yourself into oblivion instead of doing what you’re trained to do?”
“Because I’m broken!”The confession tears out of me like the bullet in Russia, creating a wound that won’t stop bleeding.“Because every time I close my eyes, I see her face overlaid with Abeera’s.I see the moment I freeze.The moment she realizes I’m not the man she believed I was.”
Tommy stares at me.In his eyes, I see something I don’t expect.
Understanding.
“When Maeve was taken,” he whispers.“When Dracul had her, and I didn’t know if she was alive or dead?I wanted to burn the world down.I wanted to destroy everything and everyone until I found her.And you know what stopped me?”
“Dave’s tactical planning?”
Tommy shakes his head.“You.You sat me down and told me that Maeve needed me focused.That the only thing I could control was what I did next.”He moves closer, his hand landing on my shoulder.“Take your own advice, brother.”
The irony isn’t lost on me.But it’s different when you’re the one drowning.
“What if I freeze again?”The question is barely a whisper.“What if we get there, and I see her, and my body refuses to move?”
