"So, your mind’s made up then?" Baron tilts his head. "Nothing I—" he pauses, "nothing we say can dissuade you from it?"
"Are you—" Edward sets his jaw, "I mean, is anyone here going to stop me from pursuing what’s clearly my calling?"
"Calling, huh?" A nerve throbs at Baron’s temple. "Or is it simply a way of escaping coming to terms with what those asshole kidnappers did to each of us?"
Edward chuckles, "Is that what you think? That I am running away?"
"Aren’t you?"
"No." Edward lowers his chin. "It’s the most difficult decision I have ever made." The two glare at each other as something unsaid seems to tremble in the air between them. The hair on the back of my neck rises. Shit, what the hell is happening to us?
After the incident, we’d fought a lot, but hell, if we hadn’t always managed to come to some kind of understanding… But this. This is different. There is a tension in the air between the two of them which I’ve never noticed before.
"What the hell is wrong with the two of you?" I stare between them. "Why the hell are you two fighting when today could possibly be the last time that we are all together in one room?"
The tension increases, stretches, then Baron yawns, "Oh, what-bloody-ever. The future Father, here, is clearly on a mission to help the world. I understand the attraction in that."
"You do?" Edward frowns.
"Of course." Baron grins. "It’s easier to preach to strangers than stand your ground and face your own demons."
Edward pales. Then color flushes his cheeks, a nerve throbs at his temple, and he takes a step forward.
Shit, this isn’t good. The only other time I’ve seen Edward this upset was when we were kidnapped.
Our captors had drugged us, then blindfolded us and bound us. When we’d come to in the room that they’d thrown us into, we had all been too weak to move. My blindfold had slipped enough for me to make out the prone figures in the room. Except Edward. He’d grappled with his restraints, and managed to break free. He'd taken off his blindfold, lurched to his feet. He'd even managed to loosen my restraints, but then our kidnappers had returned.
They’d wrestled him back to the ground, and he’d fought them every step of the way. His features then had the same determined look that he has now. And that was the last I’d seen of any of my friends for the next month.
Blindfolded... Gagged… And separated... My heart begins to thud. Adrenaline laces my blood, and a bead of sweat runs down my back. Darkness thrums at the edges of my vision. Shit, hell, this is not good.I am not going to lose it.Not now. I need to get ahold of myself.Focus, focus.I toy with the clasp of my watch—click-click-click—and the sound penetrates through the noise in my head. I draw in a breath, another. My vision clears.
I march over to stand between Baron and Edward. "Cut it out, you guys," I growl. "It’s time we start acting a little more mature, don’t you think?"
"Actually let’s not hurry it yet," Damian calls from his perch on the lone stool in the corner. "After all, you do want to have fun at my first concert, don’t you?"
3
Sinclair
"Holy shit, a gig?" Saint crows. Arpad walks toward Damian and holds out his fist. "Where are you guys performing?"
"Oh, nothing major." Damian fist bumps him. "It’s only a concert at the Roundhouse."
There’s silence, then Baron bursts out, "Wanking twatarses, did you say the Roundhouse?"
"The Roundhouse, huh?" I frown, referring to only one of the most prominent venues in London.
I stalk toward Damian and punch him in the shoulder.
"Oy, be careful, that’s an artiste’s arm you’re talking about now." Damian chuckles, "It’s not too shabby, eh?"
"It’s brilliant." I smirk. "Do you know what it means to have your first gig as a band at the Roundhouse?"
"It’s wicked!" Saint declares.
"Bloody dynamite." Arpad nods.
"It’s a coup." I tilt my head. "How the hell did this happen?" I step back take in my friends. "You guys seeing what’s happening here?"
