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Chapter 68
Killian
Abang startled me awake. The world was fucking upside down as I lifted my head, blurry-eyed with my stomach revolting. Was I upside down? Who fucking knew? I was fucking hurting. That much I did know. Groaning, I laid back down.
Fuck, my head was killing me. Even being drunk wasn’t enough to take it away.
Hands grabbed me by the front of my shirt and hauled me off the floor.
“What the fuck?” I shouted. Unable to see straight, I was a piss-poor fighter as I shoved back.
“Did you hurt yourself?” someone demanded. Roan? Maybe Roan. Hands pushed me around, checking every inch of me as I blinked to clear my vision.
“Fuck off,” I growled. Roan didn’t let go.
“Fuck, he shot Ethel,” Axel commented. Did he sound impressed?
“Find his gun,” Roan ordered.
“Don’t you—”
“Did you mean to shoot the fucking deer, or were you trying to kill yourself?” he interrupted. I didn’t say a fucking word. It was none of his damn business. None of them. When I remained silent, Roan gave me a hard shake. “Hey! I’m fucking talking to you.”
“Get the fuck off!” I shoved him hard, stumbling as he let go. The room pitched uncomfortably while I righted myself. I swallowed hard against the vomit rising in my throat. I batted away his hands when he tried to grab me again, a deep growl vibrated in my chest. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
“No.”
“Don’t touch my shit!” I yelled as Axel swiped my gun and my phone off the ground. I made a move for him, but Roan dragged me back by the front of my shirt. I took a swing at him—a horrible fucking swing that missed.
“Try to hit me again, and I’ll put your ass on the ground, you hear me?” Roan snarled. Fuck him on his high fucking horse. “How much did you drink today?”
“Go fuck yourself, Roan,” I snapped. I didn’t need the fucking judgment on his face. He didn’t fucking get it—never fucking would.
“Don’t fuck with me, Byrne,” he warned and gave me another hard shake. Fuck, the world tipped on a wide angle. “How much did you fucking drink?”
“I don’t fucking know.” That much was fucking true. Hell, I couldn’t fucking remember leaving the goddamn bar.
“Did you take your medication this morning?” Roan asked. Of course, he’d go there. It was none of his damn business.
“Oh, fuck you!”
“Check the room for his shit.” He glanced over his shoulder at Axel, who nodded. “Tell Dad to check his Jeep.”
“Stay away from my shit!” The fucking nerve of him. All of them. They didn’t need to be here. They just needed to leave me the fuck alone. I made a move to stop Axel, but Roan grabbed me again. Fuck him.
I lashed out, using the short distance between us to make sure I fucking landed my punch. He staggered back, and I fucking grinned. That shit didn’t last long as he recovered faster than my drunk ass could comprehend.
Fighting drunk wasn’t my goddamn strong suit. The world was too fucking spinny for my own good. That didn’t stop me from fucking trying—and I was angry enough with their intrusion for that to make a goddamn difference. I also had a hell of a lot more training than Roan, giving me the advantage to kick his fucking ass for being a goddamn douchebag. Even if it made my stomach roll dangerously. Or if I didn’t know how I was fucking standing.
An arm locked around my fucking neck and dragged me off of Roan. My feet came clean off the fucking ground as I tried to push back, fight back—anything to free myself.
“Relax, boy.” Brady’s voice was gruff but unwavering behind me as he manhandled me like a fucking rag doll. “Just relax, boy. We’re going to get you some help.”
“No!” I snapped. The last time they’d promised to help me, they’d put my ass in an institution for help. It was a miserable fucking place. There was no fucking way I was going back there. I wasn’t. No way in hell. I struggled harder to break his hold, hands clawing at him desperately. Words caught in my throat as I tried to fight him. “No! I won’t go back there! I don’t fucking want to go back! Let me go! I won’t go! I won’t go!”
How much of my pleading was actually heard was a fucking mystery as the world tipped back into darkness.
Chapter 69
