Killian's face turns beet red. "Not you, too!"
Sean's face hardens.
Killian roars at Sean, "What did you get him into?"
"He didn't get me into anything," I declare.
Finn jabs my chest. He snarls, "What have you done?"
I push away from them. I'm tired, sick of the entire fucked-up situation I'm in, and don't need this right now. I walk away, stating, "I'm done here."
Finn calls after me, "Brax! Get back here!"
For the first time since I was a homeless, skinny, thieving kid, I don't listen to him. I jog down the stairs, exit the gym, and run back toward home.
I knew this day was coming. I'd hidden the skull brand better than Sean did when he first got his. With everything going on with Valentina, I had forgotten about it.
I knew they'd lose their shit.
Horns blare as I cut across traffic. I work my lungs and legs hard, but it doesn't matter. I can't push away Finn's outrage, Killian's questions, Sean's stare, and the skull on my hand that's still pulsing like it owns me.
I run past an alley and the stench of rotting fried food flares. My stomach pitches. I turn the block, but it stays with me, suffocating me as mercilessly as the Underworld.
By the time I reach my building and drag myself up the stairs, sweat chills on my skin. I push my apartment door open, toss my keys on the table, and go into my living room. I freeze and bark, "What in God's name are you doing here?"
Blue Ivanov coos from my couch. "Oh, good! You're alive."
How the hell did she get inside again?
There have been at least three incidents in the last few months where I come home and she's in my house. I've changed my locks and spoken with security, but somehow she always finds a way inside.
Her turquoise miniskirt barely exists. It matches her bright hair and falls in a straight sheet to her jaw. A low-cut tank top fights for dominance with a denim cropped jacket, and bright orange, six-inch booties dangle off her toes as she stretches one leg across the cushions.
I shut the door hard. "I told you to stop sneaking into my house."
She lifts a shoulder. "You should be thanking me. I brighten up the place, don't you think?"
"Stop playing games. How did you get in this time?"
"Magic."
My jaw tightens. I go over to the couch and grab her arm, pulling her to her feet. "You can't keep doing this."
"Then you shouldn't ignore my texts." Her perfume wafts between us. She puts her hand on my arm.
I shrug out of it and wrinkle my nose. "I've been busy."
She arches a brow. "Too busy to answer me at all? Brax, it's been days. I texted last night. And this morning." She crosses her arms under her chest, pushing up cleavage like punctuation. "You can't pretend I don't exist."
I scrub a hand over my face. "Blue, we're not a thing. We're never going to be a thing. I'm not interested. I've told you that."
Hurt flickers in her eyes, fast, but she masks it. "You don't have to be an asshole."
"Apparently, I do because nothing else works."
She steps closer, so close her breath brushes my throat. "Maybe you're just scared to want me."
I step backward. "No. I've told you before this isn't happening."
