The problem is that I’m playing for her. Something I never thought I’d do ever again.
She took this from me. She buried my music deep, and now she’s the one pulling it out of the grave and shoving it back into me. It feels like another death.
“Count, Adora,” I murmur again, this time firmer, almost a command. I need her back. I need time. I need more of her. I’m not fucking ready.
She gasps and then I see it — her fingers start moving. One by one, each tapping the pad of her thumb. Her old grounding trick. One, two, three, four…
I play, watching her, watching for any sign.
When I finish the song, the bow falls from my fingers and hits the floor with a quiet clatter.
I drop to my knees beside her, heart thundering, hands still shaking.
She turns her head, and looks at me, searching my face for something. I don’t know what she’s searching for, but she finds it, and a small smile touches her lips. Barely there, but real.
“Thank you, Dominic,” she whispers.
I let the violin fall away and wrap my arms around her so fucking tight it hurts.
She’s ok. She’s ok. For now, she’s ok.
We’re moving to Silverpine. Knew it.
My realtor managed to dig up a halfway decent cabin on the outskirts. Wide open space, enough privacy, no neighbors breathing down my neck. Smaller than my place in Driftwood, but it’ll do.
Bones wanted me to take over the Driftwood Chapter now that he’s relocating.
Yeah, no. Fuck that.
I don’t like people. I tolerate them at best. And being President? That’s all people. All the time. Politics. Meetings. Deals. Babysitting grown-ass men through turf wars and tantrums.
I’ll stick to my lane — investigations, intel, and the occasional torture session to keep things sharp. That’s what I’m good at.
Bones thinks prison made me this way.Antisocialhe calls it.
He’s right. And also wrong.
I was like this before, I just used to hide it better. He never noticed it fully because he was always my shield. The people person. The one who dealt with everyone else so I didn’t have to. He did the small talk, the crowd control, for both of us. Ishoved him in front of anyone who looked like a chatterbox or a headache. And I liked it that way. Still do.
I pull into the motel parking lot and stare at the dump in front of me.
It’s worse than I expected.
We’ve got at least a week before I can get the keys to the new place, so this hellhole is home until then. The best-rated place within a hundred miles. Fuck. I can already smell the mildew.
I check us in. The woman behind the counter gives me a look like I might stab her — or fuck her. She can’t decide which.
She gives me the key without a word.
I bet the room is cramped. Stale. Probably crawling with bacteria. Like a prison cell but with ugly wallpaper.
It’s going to be a long fucking week.
On the bright side, Bones is too busy chasing Elyna to ask why I’m not crashing in my room at the new clubhouse Tank found. It’s definitely better than this shithole.
I open the door, we enter, and the fucking room is exactly the way I imagined it. Tiny. Fuck my life.
Adora
