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What’s the fucking point of anything?
I fucked everything up.
I ruined Kayla’s shot at freedom and got her stuck with another damn man who is going to be looming over her shoulder and watching her every move in a way that makes her hate her own life. I ruined my own shot at freedom by proving to my dad that apparently I can’t be trusted to be professional and responsible. I strained Kayla’s relationship with her parents. I strained my relationship with my own parents. And I doomed mine and Kayla’s relationship before we could even get it off the ground.
There was a right way to go about this. And what we did wasn’t it.
Raking my fingers through my hair, I take another swig from the bottle as I stagger up the driveway to my house.
It has been three days and I haven’t even worked up the fucking courage to tell my brothers about this. If they don’t already think that I’m nothing but a fucking screw-up, they’re going to think so now.
The front door thuds as I slam it shut behind me. I don’t bother locking it. If someone wants to break in and attack me, let them. I don’t fucking care. I even wish they would.
In fact, I desperately want to go over to the Petrov house and provoke Anton and his twin cousins into a fight. They still dislike me enough that they would do it.
But Alina would be angry if I hurt her brother and cousins. And if I made Alina upset, Kaden would skin me alive.
I wouldn’t actually mind if he did that, though. But what I wouldn’t be able to handle is the disappointment that I would see in his eyes. I could survive his fury. But I couldn’t survive his disappointment.
The couch creaks in alarm as I slump down on it. I raise the bottle again and drink deeply.
Part of me wants to stalk right into Trent Ashford’s office, put a gun to his head, and tell him that Kayla is mine regardless of what he thinks of our relationship.
But I can’t do that to Kayla. I can’t make her choose between me and her father. I don’t want her to have to choose. She has already lost too much.
So I would rather self-destruct than be the reason that she loses even more of her family.
Resting the back of my head against the couch’s backrest, I stare up into the ceiling. The house is dark and silent around me. So at odds with the roaring chaos in my own mind.
I want to beat someone unconscious. I want to throw this bottle across the room just to hear the glass shatter. I want to set the house on fire. I want to do something that will relieve the oppressive restlessness that is threatening to shred me to pieces from the inside.
But I can’t.
So I do the only thing that I can to numb the pain inside me.
I sit there on the couch. And I drink.
39
KAYLA
When I heard that Jace lives at a campus for hitmen, this was not at all what I was expecting.
I stare at the rows of beautiful houses complete with small yards that line the road. There were a bunch of larger buildings closer to the entrance and the middle of the area that looked like apartments, but in here, it’s all freestanding houses.
Checking the text I received on my brand-new phone, I make sure that I have the right house before I walk up to the door. It really would be such a shame if I ended up getting shot in the face just because I rang the wrong doorbell.
The house before me is stunning. It’s elegant and made of dark wood, and there is a yard that wraps around the house. A black Range Rover is parked on the street outside, which should hopefully mean that Jace is here. It’s also nine o’clock on a Saturday morning, so he won’t be in class at least.
Stopping just outside the door, I raise my hand and ring the doorbell.
Nothing happens.
I frown at the door.
Maybe the doorbell isn’t working?
Raising my hand again, I decide to knock instead.
