I don't feel free. I feel scraped clean of everything I thought I was building.
But I'm tired. God, I'm tired. Two months of running, of fear, of falling in love with someone who decided loving him would destroy me—it's all crashing down now. The adrenaline and anger are gone. There's nothing left but exhaustion.
I sleep.
I sleep because there's nothing else to do.
Chapter 11
Diesel
The wrench slips and my knuckles crack against the engine block. I don't feel it until I see the blood.
The garage is dark except for the work light over the Camaro's engine bay—I've been here since four, maybe earlier. Knox did a decent job while I was gone—better than decent, actually. Kid's got talent. But there's a rattle in the Camaro that's been bothering me since the owner dropped it off, and I need something to do with my hands that isn't putting my fist through a wall.
I couldn't stay at the cottage. Couldn't lie in that bed that smells like her. Couldn't look at the coffee cup still sitting in the sink because I can't make myself wash it.
Couldn't go to the clubhouse either. Couldn't stomach the looks on my brothers' faces after what I did.
So I came here. Did what I always do when I can't settle.
Fix something.
My hands move on autopilot—checking the timing belt, the motor mounts, listening for the source of the rattle.
It's not working.
"You called her the strongest woman you know. Then you decided she wasn't strong enough to survive you."
Crow's voice. Still grinding through my skull two days later.
"You always have a choice. You chose not to fight."
I check a bolt I've already checked twice. Wipe my hands on a rag.
She's strong. I know she's strong.
"Red didn't die because you loved him. He died because the world is cruel and people are monsters."
I hurl the wrench into the toolbox. The clang echoes through the empty garage.
The silence rushes back. And in the silence—
The way she laughed at me crammed into that tiny shower. The way she said my name in the dark. The look on her face when I called her an assignment.
I lied. She knew I was lying, but it fucking gutted her anyway.
My phone buzzes on the workbench.
Ash. Four in the morning.
"Kinda late for a debrief."
A grunt. "Nova's worried."
"Why?"
"Carver called her around midnight. Said he was on to something big—gonna dig into the safe house leak, figure out who gave up the location. Told her he'd call her back."
