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CHAPTERNINE
Two weeks later
I know what they’re all thinking. Standing there watching the four of us like we’re some kind of fucking anomaly. The question behind their eyes is so goddamn clear it’s as if they etched it into their fucking corneas.Where is she?
Sorry assholes, hate to disappoint but even we don’t have the answer to that million dollar question.
Grungy electronic music fills the air and as I take a swig of my whiskey, I swallow down the depressive thoughts right along with it. Between the warmth of the alcohol flowing in my chest and the deep vibrations of the bass, I’m feeling something other than nothingness, and that alone should be enough to get me through the night.
“So Atlas,” Cyrus calls out, breaking me from my thoughts as he picks up his barely touched glass of cognac off of the coffee table in between us, “what’s on the agenda for tonight?”
He casually swirls the amber liquid in slow circles as he awaits my answer, but when it becomes clear I don’t have one for him, Tristan is quick to chime in.
“Is there a reason you w… wanted all of us here?” He asks, shifting his eyes pointedly between me and Cyrus and Ezra, who are seated on the other side of our lounge.
I glare at the empty space nestled between Ezra and Cyrus and grimace.All of us… right.
I suck my teeth and raise my glass of whiskey to my lips, biding my time while I think of an explanation.
Why did I want all of them here tonight?The answer is both a complicated and simple one. I’m fucking lonely. I miss them. I miss her. And as selfish as it is, I can’t stand another night being alone with my thoughts.
I take a quick sip of my drink and as the liquid fire flows through me; I study all of their faces. At first glance, they seem to be holding up well, but the longer I stare, the more obvious it becomes that every single one of them is just like me. A ticking time bomb, seconds away from exploding.
Fuck.I can’t tell them the truth. I’m supposed to be the stable one. The reliable one. The one that pulls them out when they're stuck in their own muddy thoughts. What kind of fucking leader would I be if I burdened them with my shit?
They’re still expecting an answer, so instead of telling them the truth, I give them a much more palatable version of it. A version that makes it seem like their older brother still has his shit together and isn’t just going through the motions with a gaping hole in the center of his chest.
“It’s been a few weeks since the three of you have shown your faces here.” I say casually as I level a stare at each of them. “Despite the changes in our lives, it’s our obligation to keep up appearances.”
“Speaking of appearances.” Ezra says, standing up from his seat and smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in his dark gray three-piece suit. “I’m due for one in the basement. Mind if I take off?”
I briefly hesitate before giving him a nod and after giving me a quick clap on the shoulder, he slips out of the lounge without another word.
I watch him leave and it’s hard not to be concerned. I may be a wreck, but the way Ezra has been dealing with everything isn’t much better. If he isn’t out hunting for prey, he’s in the basement, feeding his demons. It’s a miracle he showered today, let alone threw on a fucking suit, but I suppose we’re all excellent at playing our parts when we need to.
“Who’s down there with him tonight?” Cyrus asks, making light conversation as he leans back into his seat.
“No idea.” I say honestly, as I scratch at my beard. “It’s hard to keep track of the revolving door of idiots that land on his bad side these days.”
“I can’t blame him.” Tristan says with a scowl. “Lately, my patience has been wearing thin too. Speaking of, any word from The Mercenaries?”
“No, nothing knew.” I say, shaking my head with a sigh. “Creed’s team is just as frustrated as we are, but it’s like the girl vanished. They’ve never hit a wall like this.”
“Just call them off.” Cyrus says with a shrug. “Tris and I have already taken over, anyway. It seems pointless to keep them on our payroll.”
I figured this was coming. Ever since Stevie left, Tris and Cy have thrown themselves headfirst into the search for Alex. Tris is convinced that if he can just find her, everything will fall back into place. And fuck, I wish things were that simple. Cy is a bit more realistic. He knows the chances of finding her alive are minimal. He just doesn’t have the heart to tell Tristan he’s wasting his time.
“Yeah, I’ll leave it up to you two.” I reply, throwing back the last bit of liquid in my fifth glass of the night. “I’m fine with it either way.”
Tristan and Cyrus exchange a look as I signal the server for another round, but I ignore the concern written all over their faces. I know what they’re thinking.This isn’t me.I don’t relinquish control. I don’t get drunk in the club, and I definitely don’t leave things up in the air. But I’m starting to question if that’s even the man I want to be anymore.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve always had this need for control. And until now, that control has never failed me. It kept us safe and kept a roof over our fucking heads and for me, that was enough. That is, until Stevie’s sister went missing.
With a genuine threat hanging over our heads, my need for control took over. Instead of showing Stevie the empathy she deserved, I threw restraints on her without a second thought of how that would make her feel.
Her sister was fucking missing, but all I cared about was what I needed to do to make sure the same didn’t happen to her. She deserved more than that and the truth is; I don’t blame her for not coming back.What kind of life could she even have with us?
I sink deeper into the couch and stare at my brothers as they start speaking to each other in hushed whispers. With the music pounding and my drunkenness finally kicking in, I let my head fall back and close my eyes. I’m fucking done thinking tonight.
