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“If this is your way of asking me if I want to fight you to the death, the answer is yes.”
“Not me, motherfucker,” Darien said. Malakai chuckled. “They alternate to matches involving teams after ten p.m.,” Darien explained. “Next match is two against two. Yes or no?”
Malakai grinned. “Hell yeah. Is that even a question?”
Cassel’s answering grin was just as wicked. “Let’s see what you got.”
Roman drove back to his house in silence. He didn’t say a word, and neither did the kids. The only sound to fill the silence was heavy, ragged breathing and the pounding of three hearts.
They were nearing the district of Ardesia when Pax broke the silence. “Do we have to say goodbye to Shay?” he whispered.
Shay had already sent Roman several messages since Don had threatened him. Those messages were the reason he knew she was okay—and the reason he hadn’t sprinted up there once Don had left. Now, his phone that rested in his lap buzzed with another.
As he drove, Roman glanced down to read the messages.
Shay
Please tell me you’re okay.
A thumbs up, even.
Anything.
Guess I really am one of those one-line texters.
Roman sighed. Scrubbed a hand down his face. This was going to hurt, but it needed to be done. It was just a matter of when, and what words he’d use. He hated the idea of hurting Shay, even if it was only verbally, but he needed to make it convincing. She was stubborn and rebellious, and if he didn’t convince her to leave Yveswich like she’d planned, she was carrion.
He should never have went after her to Motel 58. If he hadn’t, she’d be long gone. Long gone and safe.
“Roman?” Pax whispered.
“Yeah,” Roman breathed, finally answering. “Yeah, we need to say goodbye to Shay, bud.” He glanced at Pax to see him frowning down at the crumpled-up bag of popcorn in his lap. “For now,” Roman decided to add, to lighten the blow. And maybe because he needed to hear those words too.
For now.
He could see her again after he dealt with his dad—however the hell he was going to do that. He had no plan yet, but he knew one thing for sure: He couldn’t keep going like this.
This could not continue.
Once they got back to the house, Roman parked out front and got out. He sparked a cigarette, needing a moment to himself before he went inside. Eugene vanished into the house, but Paxton lingered.
“You okay?” he asked Roman.
“I’m fine,” Roman said, taking a drag and blowing the smoke away from Paxton. “It’s just a scratch.” He gestured to the cut in his neck.
Voices drifted from inside the house. The door swung open, and Kylar appeared.
The minute Roman saw the dread on Kylar’s face, he put out his smoke and started moving. “What’s going on?”
“We have a problem,” Kylar breathed. “Have you heard from Darien?”
“No, why?”
“He needs to get here—now.”
Darien and Malakai were heading back to where they’d parked the truck, both of them covered in blood but feeling like a million bucks, when Darien’s phone rang in his pocket.
Darien answered without checking the identification. “Cassel.”
