Page 9 of Relapse

The car stopped abruptly at my approach and the door swung open. Jace was in there, sitting calmly against the leather. I dove inside, slamming the door behind me as the driver peeled away.

I hadn’t a moment to breathe before the slap knocked my neck backwards, the ring of sound echoing in my ears before I even felt the sting. My hand shot to my face on impulse.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” Jace asked quietly. He didn’t raise his voice at me. He just sat, stoic, wringing out his wrist from the force he had used to hit me. “Do you have any idea at all?”

I wasn’t surprised. There’d be more of that, or worse, if I wasn’t careful.

“You were given a name,” he said, fingers crossing in his lap. “You said you could handle it.”

“I fixed the main problem,” I answered, eyes low, observing David’s blood beginning to dry on my cuff.

The car was silent except for the sound of acceleration as it entered the highway.

“Damian,” Jace repeated. “That was your instruction.”

“If I had killed him, David would have known. He wouldn’t have continued allowing our business. He had enough on this family to put us away for years. Damian’s death would have made everything sloppy.”

“And a dead Chief of Police isn’t sloppy?” Jace grounded out through clenched teeth.

An image of Noah entered my mind: eye gash blending into his bruised skin, tear streaked cheeks, hands clutching onto my tie.

“He was already dead,” I confirmed. “He just didn’t know it yet.”

That remark ticked Jace off and he grabbed me, yanking me forward by the front of the hoodie.

“You took a liberty against the orders you were given!”

I met his gaze, pulling backwards against his grasp.

“I took responsibility!” I snarled.

Jace’s eyes flared, and he continued to examine me for a moment. Suddenly, a thin smile crossed his face and his grip on me loosened.

“Careful,” he chided. “That’s not your job.”

My throat was tight. Maybe there was a way I could finish this in my favor.

“With respect,” I added. “Neither was catering to David Hansen. He’d forgotten who owns this city. He’d gotten comfortable treating the relationship we had with him like a full scale insurance policy.”

Jace seemed intrigued. I went on.

“It was either him, or us. Now that David is gone, they will have to scramble to replace him. We will have an opening. We will have a fresh slate to take control over the parts he wasn’t allowing us full access too. Damian won’t know what’s hit him. He won’t know what he’s walking into.”

“And what if he’s not?” Jace asked.

“Not what?”

“Gone,” Jace said with a growl, his icy eyes meeting mine. “What if he lives?”

I considered this. “It would take a lot to save him. I stabbed him twice. I twisted. Just like you said.”

“Smart mouth,” Jace snorted. “Always had one. Just like your mother did. She used to talk the same way. Drove me fucking crazy.”

I paused, his comment catching me off guard. I didn’t know much about my mother. Just that whatever debt Jace owed her was the reason he took me to raise after her death. I didn’t want to dig any deeper into it. Nostalgia wasn’t an emotion I could afford right now.

I had protected Noah by sparing his brother, and in the same breath I had taken out the monster who caused his suffering. There couldn’t have been a better plan to execute. Now, I needed to smooth things over with my uncle, or else my future might not be as solid as I liked to pretend it was.

Jace reached for the compartment between us and pulled out a bottle of Macallan, setting it alongside two short glasses. I watched as he cracked the seal and poured two servings, steady hand despite the motion of the vehicle.