Elias’s nostrils flare as he slowly and meticulously rises from his chair. “Would anyone care to answer why a table full of, what I assume to be, intelligent individuals did not see this?” He bangs the table at the last word, glasses of water vibrating with the impact.
“It’s not our fault, boss. They were dissolved!” the man in the cut protests, his face turning a deep crimson at the accusation.
“You of all people should know how quickly things change, Trip. Or have you forgotten?” Elias’s voice is lethal and sharp yet soft enough to cause a false sense of security.
Trip’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing, his lips sealed together as he focuses on Elias. Unspoken words fill his mouth, but none leave his lips. His fingers curl slowly against the tabletop before relaxing again.
Elias reaches into his suit jacket, pulling out his pistol and slamming it on the table. The sound cracks through the room like a shot. One of the men at the far end of the table straightens in his chair, and I suppress the jolt that runs through me at the sound.
“I have ten bullets in this fucking chamber,” he says, his eyes raking over every single man at the table. “It’s your choice whether they go into the skulls of the Iron Angels or yours.”
Bodies bristle as his words hang in the air. Everyone at this table, including me, knows that his threat isn’t an empty one. Michael taps away furiously at his phone before putting it face down on the table.
“I’ll have answers by morning, boss,” he says, looking squarely at Elias. “Nothing comes into Bridgeport without the Kings knowing.”
Elias leans forward, palms flat against the deep wooden table. “If that were true, Michael, then I would think you would have told me. I’d hate to think that the leader of the Kings has proven to be… inefficient. I hate inefficiency.”
The conversation around the table continues, but the words blur together, my pulse drowning them out. My fingers curl against the underside of the chair as my leg bounces underneath and sweat gathers at my hairline.
If the Iron Angels are here, then so is Owen. And if he’s in the city, it’s not a matter ofifhe finds me. It’s when.
Forty-Six
Elias
Faint – Linkin Park
Ilie awake long after the lights go out. Kat is tucked against my side, her breathing even but too measured to be asleep. We’ve been home from HQ for a few hours now.
Kat was silent the entire ride home. A tempest raged in her eyes, just waiting to explode, but she stayed locked up. I felt it the moment that fucking photo hit the table—the way her mind slipped somewhere else entirely, as if a switch had flipped. I know she was back there. With him. It sent me into a blind rage. How did we not fucking see it? I’ve been too wrapped up in trying to connect the fucking dots when the answer was staring me right in the face the entire time.
My jaw tightens. I should have told her everything when we first got together. But if I had, would she have stayed, or would she have run? It was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. If I’m being honest, I’m still not willing to take it, but I have no choice.
Beside me, Kat shifts slightly. Her fingers tighten in the fabric of my shirt. Her breaths come slowly, but they’re too controlled.
“You did well today,” I whisper into the darkness. “You’re a natural.”
She stiffens beside me, then slowly exhales. “I’ve had a lot of practice.” I don’t need to see her face to know the bleakness of her tone is reflected there, too.
Practice surviving things you should never have had to survive.
I don’t say the thought out loud. Instead, I pull her close to me and rub small circles on her back, sending a shiver down her spine. I feel the tension in her back. Every muscle feels like a coiled wire beneath my palm. Even now, hours later, her body hasn’t fully left HQ.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, but I already know the answer.
“Everything,” she answers quietly. “But I feel safe here. With you. I feel like nothing can hurt me while I’m here.”
The weight of her confession settles deep in my chest. I lower my head, pressing my forehead to hers and my lips to her lips. The kiss is slow. I pour everything into it. I pull her tighter, letting her know I’m here and I’m not going fucking anywhere. Her hand slides into my hair, her fingers threading through it, just enough to anchor herself into this moment. Whatever storm is coming, I will protect her from it if it’s the last fucking thing I do.
Light shines in the corner of the room as my phone springs to life with a call. I let out a groan and pull away from her, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand as I look at the screen.
My chest drops when I see it’s Cain. I slide the answer button.
“This had better be important, Cain,” I say, Kat sitting up when she hears the name.
“It is. Is Kat there?”
“She’s right next to me.”
