AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I spit at their feet. “Both of you better stop fucking talking right now, or one of you is going to go home with a limp.”
Tristan takes a step in my direction. “You’re supposed to be working on your shit. Is this really what you’ve been doing the past two weeks? Fuck, man. You should see how this is affecting Isabella—”
Before the words finish leaving his lips, I have him shoved against the wall again. Carefully, I set the bottle down on the ground, letting it rest against the wall. Then I yank Tristan back and punch him in the stomach. He winces and doesn’t say anything.
I punch him again, hitting him squarely in the jaw this time, but Tristan makes no move to get away from me. If anything, it’s like he’s drawing on every ounce of self-control to hold himself still. To fight against being my human punching bag.
But I can’t bring myself to stop.
Not when it feels good to direct my anger and frustration at anyone other than myself. I yank Tristan back up by the scruff of his neck and land another blow to his ribs. He stares at a spot over my shoulder, eyes glazed over with pain. Abruptly, I shove him away and fold both arms over my chest.
Why isn’t it working? Why do I still feel the ache in the center of my chest?
Tonight, I can’t outrun Isabella, no matter how much or hard I try.
I’ve spent the past two weeks prowling the streets and looking for excuses to beat the shit out of people, all in an effort to forget. The first night I stumbled home, Ernesto was stunned and tried to get me to the nearest hospital, but my bruises kept the nightmares at bay. Instead of tossing and turning and missing Isabella, I’d spent the majority of the night scowling at my pain and drowning my feelings in whiskey.
And I’d spent every night since then doing the same thing. I don’t need Tristan to come to my rescue. Hell, I don’t even know why he’s here, looking at me like that.
“Now that you’ve gotten that off your chest.” Tristan dusts himself off and winces. “We need to go.”
“You’ve been managing fucking fine without me.” I bend down to pick up my bottle and take another long swig. Exhaling, I use the back of my hand to wipe my mouth. “What the hell do you need me for?”
Tristan blows out a breath and gestures to Ernesto.
Together, the two of them urge me into the back of the car. A part of me is tempted to take both of them on, just for the thrill of being able to, but the other part of me doesn’t care what they do. With a shrug, I let them think they won, and I catch the relieved looks on their faces as they get into the front of the vehicle before Ernesto starts the engine.
The streets of the city are mostly empty and lit up in yellow fluorescent lightning.
I press my face to the glass and study the half-shaped moon outside my window. Then I take a few more sips from the bottle, the pounding in the back of my skull turning into a dull roar. Ernesto has both hands on the wheel, and Tristan is messaging on his phone. In spite of their best attempts at drawing me into conversation, I don’t give either of them the time of day.
Not when I want to kick their teeth in and leave both in a crumpled heap on the ground. Instead, I keep trying and doing my best to shove any and all thoughts of Isabella to the back of my mind.
Tristan twists to face me, and the bruise on his jaw is already an angry shade of red. “She’s fine by the way.”
“I didn’t ask,” I snap through gritted teeth. “You’re wasting your time.”
Because I’m not going back, not when I haven’t done anything to earn her trust back. Isabella deserves better than what I’ve been doing the past few weeks. Unfortunately, getting my shit together is proving to be a lot harder than I thought.
Ernesto screeches to a halt in an emptier part of the city, outside a cluster of older-looking buildings. He gets out of the car first and holds the door open for me. I exit the car and lift my gaze up, spotting the flickering light on the fifth floor. Tristan places an arm around my shoulders, but I shove him off.
In silence, the three of us climb the stairs.
I’m debating whether or not to walk through the doors when they burst open, and a few more familiar faces appear. Many of them do a double take when they see me, with my disheveled hair, wrinkled clothing, and droplets of blood staining the front of my shirt. I stride into the room with my back erect and my head held high.
I drop into the chair at the head of the table and glance around. No one wants to meet my gaze. I’m almost itching for them to give me the wrong look or step out of line in any way.
Why won’t any of them give me what I want?
“As you all know, we’re meeting here to take some of the heat off of Anita’s,” Tristan announces, with a quick look around. “Our usual meeting places are under surveillance by the Natoris and Philipses.”
A murmur rises through the room.
I place both legs on the table and link my fingers behind my head. “What do you fucking expect? You might as well send up a flare into the night sky, announcing where you are.”
A few looks are thrown my way, but no one has the nerve to say anything.
“We won’t be here long enough,” Tristan replies in the same even voice. “Thankfully, neither the Natoris nor the Philipses can afford to keep moving warehouses. As of an hour ago, we’ve managed to strike another one of their strongholds.”
