“Is it weird? I don’t feel any guilt over what I did to her. And no guilt for killing Alexander, either. Am I a monster?”
The genuine worry in her voice makes me pause. There are too many things running through my head, but the main priority is to defuse this situation. I can’t let her think that she’s a monster.
“No, no, listen to me.” The urgency in my voice slips out before I can try to keep my cool. My hand reaches for hers, intertwining our fingers together. “You’re not a monster. You did what you needed to do. Hell, I’ve done worse things and haven’t thought of them since.”
“I know,” she sighs. “I just… feel bad that I don’t feel bad. Am I making any sense?”
I offer a supportive smile, squeezing her hand a little. “Of course you are, butterfly. I get it. No one just gets used to the life of crime. But for what it’s worth, I’ve got you. I’ll alwayshave your back.”
“You better,” she grins teasingly. “Or I might just leave you.”
“Not fucking happening,” I respond immediately, holding onto her hand for dear life. Blair laughs, the softness of the sound making something inside me heal. “Never. You’re not allowed to leave me.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
Blair giggles at the sudden relief in my tone, and I smile in return. She slowly pushes her feet off the edge of the bed, stretching her arms above her head. A small yawn comes past her soft lips, and she stands up, her bare feet paddling across the wooden floor.
“It’s today, isn’t it?”
She’s not looking at me as she asks the question. She pulls the wardrobe door open, her slender fingers skimming through all the clothes I got for her. There are a lot of elegant dresses, pants, and shoes, but she shoves all of those to the side, sticking with the comfortable outfits — a pair of sweats, a well-fitted, long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of combat boots.
“It is,’’ I mimic her actions, stretching my limbs, then making my way to the wardrobe, tossing a plain, black shirt over my head. Blair’s eyes follow every move I make, and the notion makes me smirk.
Blair rolls her eyes, playfully jabbing my chest. She reaches for the hairbrush, but before she can grab it, I get a hold of it first. She gives me a puzzled look, and I gently lead her back to the bed, sitting her down and getting on my knees on the bed behind her.
My movements are gentle, as I don’t want to hurt her. The brush glides through her hair with ease, and my girl hums in satisfaction. The silky shade of deep brown shines under the soft sunlight that beams through the windows, the length reaching her mid-back.
“Are you worried?”
Blair’s silence makes me pause, but as soon as I do, she responds, and I continue the maneuver of brushing her hair.
“Worried? A little. I don’t want to get in your way.”
“You won’t,” I murmur, parting her hair into two. I bring one side over her shoulder, keeping it out of the way, and gently tilting her head backward as I start braiding her hair into Dutch braids. “You’ll do an amazing job, butterfly. I don’t doubt that.”
“Well, we both know what happened the last time I tried being helpful.” Her sigh of disappointment makes my heart ache. “I just don’t want to cause another issue for you.”
“You’ve never done that,” I try to reassure her, hoping my words reach her. “We’ve found Woods, and we’re taking him out. Flint’s next.”
“What’s the plan?”
“He’s currently hiding in one of his summer homes,” I explain, reaching over to the bedside table and taking two small hair ties. I tie the first braid, then bring the other half back, starting the same process. “The security is tight, of course, but we’ll manage. It’s not impossible getting to him. Do you want to be the one to kill him?”
Blair ponders on it for a moment as my fingers slide through her hair, picking a piece, then tucking it underneath the other one, creating the perfect start of a Dutch braid.
“No, I don’t care who kills him,” she responds, her voice oozing determination. “All I care about is that Simmons is mine to kill, as well as making sure Woods dies. What about his family, though?”
“He has twins in their mid-twenties. From the intel that X provided before he went off-grid, there’s no contact with him. What a shocker.”
Blair snorts. “No wonder. Any evidence of them being involved in the trafficking organization?”
I shake my head, then realize she can’t see me. “No, none whatsoever.”
“Then, no reason to kill them. His wife?”
“Dead, though he does have a few girlfriends.”
