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"Walk away," Dalton says, his voice calm. "We'll take care of this mess."
I nod, swallowing the knot in my throat. There's no denying the anger that rages inside of me, or the fact that I’m more than capable of finishing this, but there's a larger part of me that doesn’t want to fuck up the possibility of a future with the amazing woman waiting at home for me with her son. Dalton understands that.
"What’s your plan?" I ask.
"You're not the only one with contacts," Dalton replies, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "We've got this. Go home."
"Ben?" I question, looking at my friend, needing his approval too.
"You were never here. Go."
"Text me when it's sorted," I say, for once in my life relinquishing control as I walk out of the bar and into the cold night air.
A couple of minutes later I unlock the door to my flat above the gym, thankful that the entrance is around the back of the building. It’s early enough for people to still be out and about, but dark enough for me to slip inside without being noticed. There's no way I can go home covered in blood, I need to clean up first.
Tossing my keys onto the table beside the front door, I head for the shower, needing to wash off the grime and blood that clings to my skin. Removing my clothes, I step into the shower. The water cascades down my body, washing away the remnants of tonight's chaos. For a moment, I close my eyes, trying to forget the violence - the sounds of bones cracking, the blood splattering on the floor, the screams of the men we fought.
"Fuck!" I grind out, my thoughts conflicted.
There's no way I wasn't going to help Ben deal with those bastards, and yet I resent my position as the enforcer for the families. This isn't who I want to be.
Turning off the shower, I wrap myself in a towel and stare at my reflection in the mirror. A face I barely recognise stares back at me, the hard jawline, the shadowed eyes, the rage that still flickers within them. This is the man I've become and there's no hiding from it. But tonight, just like with Fraser, I hesitated before causing irreparable damage.
I hesitated for them. For Lia and Toby.
Swiping at my split lip that still weeps blood, I force myself to regain some semblance of control. A bruise is beginning to form on my cheek, another on my jaw. How am I going to explain this away? As far as Lia, Daisy and Toby are concerned I've spent the afternoon at the hotel. The thought of lying to them makes me feel even more shit, but what choice do I have? I can’t tell them the truth.
As I contemplate what to do, my phone vibrates on the countertop, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pick it up, swiping it open to see a text from Dalton.
It's done.
Relief floods through me, and I fire him a quick text back.
I've got a split lip. Some bruises forming. Need a story. I'm going to say I was checking one of the cameras in the hotel lobby. Fell off the ladder. I got some blood on my clothes so I went to change at my flat above the gym.
I watch as the three bubbles dance as he writes his response.
You got it.
Taking a deep breath, I ignore the guilt I feel and head into my bedroom, slipping into a pair of clean boxers and a t-shirt, the soft fabric brushing against my skin providing little comfort. Grabbing some jeans and a sweater, I get dressed, pull on my shoes, pick up my car keys and head home, my eyes catching on the box of Lia’s recipe books stored in the corner of my closet. The sight of them makes more guilt pile on the mountain already sitting on my shoulders.
As I drive through the streets of Princetown, my mind is still reeling from tonight's events. But as much as my mind seems to want to dwell on it–to wallow in self-pity or berate myself for getting caught up in this lifestyle–I refuse to let it.
Instead, I focus on Lia and Toby. They've brought out a part of me that has been buried beneath all the violence and chaos that my life has become. Their presence reminds me of the person I truly am, who I want to continue to be, and the only thing I care about is helping them have a better life. I just need to figure out if that's with or without me.
Because after tonight, I've no fucking clue.
.
SIXTEEN
LIA
As I clear the dinner plates away, I surreptitiously glance over at Drix, who has been uncharacteristically quiet this evening. His usually bright eyes are clouded with something that I can't quite decipher and it makes me feel a little off-kilter. Gathering the courage to break the silence, I clear my throat and turn towards him.
"So," I start tentatively, "You fell off a ladder while checking a security camera?"
A slight crease appears between his eyebrows as he nods, but his lips remain tightly pressed together. The soft glow of the dimmed lights in the kitchen cast shadows across his face, making it hard for me to read his expression.
