And that meant she was ours. Whether she wanted to be or not.
“How long do I have?” I asked, my voice flat.
“As long as it takes,” Morpheus said. “But don’t take too long. If someone else finds her first, we’re all fucked.”
I nodded, my jaw tight, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “Understood.”
Morpheus stood, moving around the desk to clap a hand on my shoulder. “I know this isn’t easy, brother. But you’re the only one who can do this. She trusts you. She’ll listen to you.”
No, she won’t.Because I’d destroyed that trust. I shattered it in the basement when I turned my back on her and walked away. But I didn’t say that. Didn’t argue. Didn’t fight. Because there was no point. Morpheus had given me an order, and I was going to follow it. Not because I wanted to. Not because I thought it was right. But because I didn’t have a choice.
I never had.
“I’ll find her,” I hissed, my voice hollow.
Morpheus nodded, satisfied. “Good. Keep me updated.”
I turned and walked out of his office, my boots heavy on the hardwood floor, my mind spinning with everything I had just agreed to. I was going to hunt Alex. I was going to track her down, drag her back here, and force her to surrender everything she knew. I was going to become the monster she had run from, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.
Because I was alone. Completely, utterly alone.
Travis was dead. His woman was a stranger I had never met. Alex was gone, and the Brotherhood, the only family I had left, was asking me to destroy the one person I’d ever loved.
Fuck.I climbed the stairs to my room, each step heavier than the last, and pushed open the door. The space was exactly as I had left it. Bed unmade, computer monitors dark, Travis’ letter still sitting on my desk. I picked up the letter, my hands shaking slightly as I read the words again.
Watch out for her, brother. She’s family now.
Family. I was supposed to protect family. Supposed to keep them safe. But how the fuck was I supposed to do that when I was being ordered to hunt down the woman I loved and drag her back into Hell? I set the letter down and stared at the wall, my mind blank, my chest hollow. There was no answer. No solution. No way out. There was only the mission.
Find Alex. Bring her back. Make her talk.
And if she refused?Then you make her understand she doesn’t have a choice.
I closed my eyes, my jaw clenched, my hands curling into fists. I was going to find her. I was going to bring her back, and I was going to hate myself for every second of it. Because that was what monsters did. They destroyed the things they loved, and I was the worst kind of monster.
The kind who knew exactly what he was doing.
And I was going to do it anyway.
Chapter Forty-Two
Alex
Coco Beach, Florida.
It had been almost two months since I killed Arizona and left Eros to his own fate on that storage room floor, and while I tried not to think about what happened to Eros, it was never far from my mind. Still, I did exactly what he told me to do, and I ran. I ran so far from South Dakota, the Brotherhood, my family in Athens, Texas, that I made damn sure no one could ever find me.
Mainly, I ran fromhimbecause no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
I missed him. As much as I hated to admit it, I did. Still, it wasn’t enough for me to return to him. Not that I could. I’d killed a man. I was probably wanted for murder, though I didn’t have the courage to find out. So instead, I disappeared and tried to make a new life for myself, and that life led me to Coco Beach, Florida. Where the sun always shined and the ocean was only a block away.
Thanks to the money I stole from Arizona, I had no problem finding an apartment. Then I got a job working at a bar and grill called Twisted Intentions, waitressing to pass the time. I didn’t really need to work, but after a few days of staring at walls and listening to my thoughts, I needed something to occupy my time before I went crazy.
It took some time, but eventually I found my groove. A place where I thought I could make a go of something normal. Something away from all the clubs, wars, lies and deceptions. Where I could just be me, or at least figure out who that was without him.
The bar was hopping tonight—tourists, locals, and a few bikers crowded around the tables as the music pumped loudly through the speakers. Jimmy Buffett. Always fucking Jimmy Buffett in a beach town. I had heard “Margaritaville” so many times I could recite it in my sleep.
I balanced a tray of drinks on my shoulder, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. Table seven, with four drunk college kids celebrating spring break a month too late. Two margaritas, a beer, and something fruity with an umbrella that cost twelve dollars and tasted like diabetes.
