Today, I’m operational, but I’m spiraling—wanting to get back to the girl who’s the sweetest distraction from the chaos swelling around me.
I’ve been plunging into this deep abyss, where the only thing I see and feel is Kate’s body filling my hands. Her frame flush against mine. The brief warmth that wraps around me tightly right before she puts up a fight and tests everything I've taught her.
And I say abyss, because I’ve buried her in the unfathomable depths of my soul that I didn’t know existed. I’m sure as hell not letting anything penetrate and tarnish the only space in my chest that doesn’t feel desolate and empty. I have more barriers than I know what to do with. Over the last few weeks, Kate has somehow broken through—slipping between the cracks in myarmor to settle behind them, as if she belongs there, as if she’s protected by them.
My home somehow feels like hers, too, with the way she goes back and forth to work at the medical center. I’d say we’re in this circuit orbiting each other, but that’s far from the truth. She’s the sunshine, and her pull imprisons me. Drowns me in a heat I never want to escape, so I’m constantly seeking her out with that little tracking device that hangs perfectly between those beautiful collar bones.
Her safety has become my priority.
Teaching her self-defense has been for her own safety. Yet I can’t push aside the fact that it’s to give me peace of mind knowing she can hold her own in a ruthless world that targets pretty things.
Tayla and my mom couldn’t protect themselves. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered if they had the strength to raise hell, but fuck if I let Kate walk around defenseless with that defeated look in her eye that I came to recognize the moment I saw her scars.
The physical reminders of her past.
She hasn’t tried to escape the estate once.
Not that she’d be able to, but it's unsettling knowing she feels safer inside walls that could put her in just as much danger as whoever hurt her.
Whoever’s hunting her.
Another reason I’ve been training with Kate in the gym every morning before we head our separate ways is that we don’t know Luciano’s plans. We may believe we have an impenetrable empire, but there are always hidden faults in the shadows, waiting to be discovered and used as leverage, which is why rebuilding our army to be stronger is a priority.
Nolan, one of our lieutenants in training, peers at the sheet before him. “They started training a few weeks ago and will start their positions next week. All night shifts.”
Taking my time, I peer out the window, studying the new faces of men we’re training for security at the park. A few of them are built, strong enough to hold their own and give us a wireframe to work with, while others need to be put through the wringer, so they don’t look so breakable.
I don’t tolerate breakable.
Unless it's Kate breaking apart on my fingers.
Shattering on my tongue.
Goddamn, Pres. Get a hold of yourself.
We’ll give these newcomers a shot. Hiring for the security staff at Lachlan Park has fewer requirements than the recruits we pull and train for the Megalley Syndicate. Mainly because our men are integrated with the regular employees, so they don’t draw as much attention.
I scan the room again, a few of their demeanors piquing my interest. Not even the glass can hide the darkness in their eyes that thrives deeper than the surface. We often promote Lachlan Park security to soldiers once they’ve proven their skills. They will have eyes watching their every move.
Especially now, as our war with the Calco Cartel escalates.
We need more men than ever.
“Let’s make sure we get them to the range and test their hand-to-hand combat. By the end of next week, if any of them have potential, I would like a comprehensive report detailing their strengths and weaknesses. As well as a thorough background check and details about their family lives.” My head slants, and an odd sensation curls in my gut as I peer out the window at two who look promising.
The trainees are lounging in the chairs in the briefing room at our main security headquarters for the park. The one-sided glass conceals our scrutinizing glares from view as we analyze our recruits.
Several of them are chatting harmlessly, while others, the two I have my eye on, lean back in the chairs with uninterested looks, pulling at their features. We never hire someone without a headshot with their resume. Vincent and Nolan went through those thoroughly and know what to look for. There are too many snakes that try to slip through our fingers.
I nod my head toward them. “Who are those two?”
Nolan watches where I’m pointing. “Lex is on the right. Brett is on the left.”
Lex, with dark, cropped hair and a sleeve of tattoos, braces his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to crack his knuckles while Brett’s knees bounce impatiently—his hair a dirty blond that’s pulled back into a bun on his nape.
Good.
I can feel the eagerness emanating from them. The flow of their anticipation is threaded with something else, like a whip cracking against my skin, leaving a sting that has me questioning their true nature.
