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My gaze falls to my knuckles, swollen and bruised from punching that guy in the face when he wouldn’t get out of the way. I recall the rush that came over me, the pull to inflict pain on this arrogant asshole. I wanted to do more than just hit him, and a large part of me wished that we weren’t in a hurry and that Simon would have used the gun he had pulled out on him.
Watching Axel and Bradshaw fight to the death unlocked something from within me. Or maybe it just shined light on a darkness that had been hiding all this time. Either way, witnessing them have the raw, unrestricted ability to beat the living shit out of each other made me want for a chance to…
My mind trails off at the endless possibilities. What is it that I want?
To hurt myself? To inflict pain on someone else? To kill?
Whatever it was, the drive to make it happen was higher than ever.
I have to talk to Simon, to convince him I needed more.
"Good morning, princess." Magnus approaches me from behind, wrapping his ink-marked arms around my frame. He hugs me tightly and kisses the side of my head. "How did you sleep?"
“Pretty decent actually.” I turn and catch his lips with mine. “You?”
"Could have used about ten more hours, but I'll survive." He shoves his hand into the box of Cheerios and pulls out a handful, tossing them into his mouth. "Where did you and Simon eat last night?"
“Um, uh, some Mexican joint.”
“Word.” He releases me and strolls over to the coffee machine, pushes a few buttons and waits for his cup to brew. “How was it?”
I shrug. “Decent.”
Two lies already told in a ten-second conversation.
“What had you out so late?” I ask him, even though I know he won’t tell the truth either.
“Work stuff. The usual.”
“It’s usual that you’re out all hours of the night?”
Magnus sighs and comes back over to me. He takes my hands in his, cupping them together on the marble countertop. He steadies his serious gaze on mine. “I promise it won’t always be like this. We’re just dealing with some changes. Once we’ve handled it, we’ll be more present.”
Is he referring to those shipments and the men who died in the process? Why can’t he admit that’s what has them busy? What is the harm in saying what’s really happening? How couldthatpossibly put my life in danger? And why is that something that has to remain a secret? How do they think I would possibly react that causes them to refuse to tell me? The whole selling point in involving me with their business was so they could keep me in the loop andnotexclude me from everything. I was supposed to help them, provide insight into situations that they hadn't already considered. Even Gwyneth thought my business degree would give them a fresh new perspective on how to run things. They insisted that I finish my schooling, but I didn't realize it was just another way for them to bide their time of keeping me in the dark.
“Why won’t you tell me, though, Magnus? I don’t understand. You were always the one who wanted to include me, but even you hardly talk to me these days.” I chew at the inside of my lip, my emotions bubbling up to the surface even though I want nothing but to keep them at bay. “Did I do something wrong?”I mean, other than almost dying.
“No, no no no.” Magnus brings both of his hands from mine and places them on my cheeks. “My sweet girl, no. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then what is it?” I ask him. “Why won’t you tell me? Do you think I can’t handle it?”
He tucks my hair behind my ear. “You know better than anyone that I think you can handle anything. You’re the strongest person I know, princess.”
A low beep alerts us that his coffee has finished brewing.
“Who’s making you keep secrets from me? Is it Dom or Co?” I lean into his touch, savoring the comfort it brings me.
“It’s not that simple.” He runs his thumb along my skin. “But I promise it’s for your safety.”
Anger courses through me. "My safety." If I have to hear something is for my fucking safety one more time, I'm going to lose my Goddamn mind. "Fuck my safety." I shake off his hands and push back from the stool.
The garage door opens and someone walks into the kitchen. I don’t bother looking to see who it is, because like clockwork, I already know.
“Have a goodfuckingday at work!” I call out as I stomp up the stairs and into my bedroom.
A few minutes pass and even though a bit of guilt starts to trickle in at having scolded Magnus, the fury I feel continues to overpower any other of my emotions.
A soft knock sounds on the door, and when I look up from my spot on the floor next to my bed, I spot Simon standing there in the hallway.
