She pushes herself too hard.
Again.
My fists clench at my sides when she turns and I see the bright red blood soaking through the back of her pale pink leotard.
This fucking girl.
The wounds that Italian piece of shit left on her back were deep, but they should be further along in the healing process by now. If only Briar would properly care for the wound and actuallyrest. That word doesn’t appear to be in her vocabulary.
Unable to help myself, I broke into her apartment again this morning. After confirming with Jace that both Briar and her roommate Lily, another dancer, were at the Conservatory, I scaled the fire escape outside of her apartment again. Leaving behind a prescription-strength antibiotic cream, fresh bandages, and tape on top of her dresser.
The blood is evidence she hasn’t used the bandages and I curse under my breath.
It’s going to get infected.
Briar calls it a night somewhere around two a.m., but I linger. Watching, making sure she makes it back to her apartment. Leaning back against the wall until she finally collapses into bed. Resisting the urge to go up there, pin her down and bandage her up myself.
I keep an eye out. Not moving until dawn breaks over the horizon, the sunlight never touches the little alley.
It’s been a few days now and she hasn’t gone to the cops, but I can’t seem to stop watching her. I tell myself it’s because Briar is likely still a target. Anyone who makes a move on her would have information… information we need.
So I keep watching.
28
HE’S A DEAD MAN
KOEN
Now
Stalking Briar last night was a mistake.
It took everything in me to walk away the first time, but now that I know where she lives, where she dances,her name…
She’ll be the ruin of me, I know it. Like a drug burning in my veins, she’s the poison I crave. One hit and I’m already looking for the next one.
But she’s innocent, a little taste of heaven I can’t allow myself to have. I still don’t know what happened, how she ended up in that neighborhood or in that warehouse that night, but the facts remain: we’re from two different worlds and I won’t drag her down into mine.
I stalk through the dark mansion, stepping over piles of broken glass and furniture, a strong smell of gasoline in the air. I nod briefly at our guys tearing the place apart before descending down into the hidden basement.
We’ve been sitting in a powder keg for months now, the entire city at a stand-still just waiting for the inevitable spark that will set it off.
I’m tired of waiting, and my—and my brothers’— reasons are as good as any.
Let’s light a motherfucking match.
Reaching the basement, I shut the door behind me. The sounds of breaking glass and shouting from upstairs fades away, replaced with the sound of someone screaming. It’s music to my ears. I lean back against the wall, folding my arms across my chest to watch in appreciation as Aidan circles the man hanging by his wrists from a hook in the ceiling. I watch stone-faced as Aidan holds a red-hot fire poker to the underside of the man’s balls. The screams emanating from him are raw, until they break down further into sobs and pathetic pleas.
My brother notices me for the first time, pulling back the poker to look my way. The man sags in his chains at the brief reprieve, coughing before spitting blood to the floor.
The bastard’s barely recognizable after the pummeling he took from Aidan when we first picked him up hours ago. There’s a pretty good chance Aidan would’ve beat him to death right then and there if I hadn’t pulled him off. Aidan’s focus may be on hockey right now, but he’s still head enforcer for a reason. When it comes to violence, he can be merciless, brutal if he wants to be, and tonight,he wants to be.
“Don’t kill him yet,” is all I say to my brother, who nods before sucker punching the guy, knocking his face so hard to the right he could’ve snapped his neck. The man lets out a groan and slumps over, half conscious; there’s blood everywhere. Aidan’s beenbusywhile I checked on things upstairs.
My phone rings and I answer, as Aidan pulls out the knife he keeps in his jeans.
“Yeah?” I answer, recognizing the incoming number as Garrett’s.
