But, of course, I couldn’t keep him.
If Damian hurt him because of me, I would never recover from it.
When it wasn’t Ryan’s face haunting me, it was Damian’s whiskey eyes and the mind-bending pain of the brand searing into my chest that kept me from sleeping.
At least he’d kept his promise and let me take Naomi back home. He hadn’t hurt my sisters…
My thumb was still hovering over the tiny trash can that would erase Ryan’s messages forever when my phone vibrated.
It was a text from McGreggor, and I scowled. Taking another long pull of scotch, I opened it.
McGreggor:
I have a lead. Be outside in ten minutes, faggot.
Snorting, I took another few gulps of liquor before shooting him a thumbs-up emoji. My vision was blurry, and I was seeing double already.
I almost laughed out loud at the fact that I was about to go on a mission with a merc who hated me while I was already half in the bag.
Whatever. Maybe if I got lucky, it would be the last mission I ever fucking went on. As the alcohol seeped into my veins and I stumbled to my feet to get ready, I realized that for the first time after a life of fighting to survive, I didn’t want to fight anymore.
I just wanted to rest. Hopefully, everyone would be able to forgive me for being so weak.
I fucking tried. I really did.
But it didn’t seem to matter how hard I tried. I don’t know what got into me to make me think I ever deserved more than this lonely life of violence and pain. My mother had been right. I was just a fucking demon, or some kind of devil, sent to this earth to fuck everything up.
Ryan called you an angel, though…
I shook my head, ridding myself of the thought. Thinking of Ryan would do me no good. I needed to get him out of my head.
It was better for everyone if I stayed away from them.Especially him.
I’d ruined his life enough as it was.
I needed to forget about Ryan and focus on whatever it was Damian wanted me to do.
This way, no one but me had to get hurt.
McGreggor’s car smelled like ass. I didn’t bother talking much, considering I wasn’t sure I would be able to speak without slurring.
The longer I sat in his shitty Lexus, the more drunk I started to feel, and I was grateful for the buzz. It made it easier for me to pretend I hadn’t just hurt Ryan if my brain couldn’t think thoughts.
If this had been a normal mission, I would have been asking a ton of questions.
Where were the marks?
How had he found them?
What was the plan of attack?
Who was covering who?
As it was, I didn’t really give a fuck about this mission. I didn’t really give a fuck about anything anymore.
So, when McGreggor drove to the outskirts of Silent Hollow and parked somewhat close to the field I had fingered Ryan in, I didn’t say anything.
I stumbled out of the car when he parked next to an old, rundown barn that had clearly been deserted for years.
