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He didn’t want me to stain my soul, so he did it. Even though it broke something in him, he did it. I held him as he cried. That was the last night I ever saw him cry or show weakness to this date. He told me he was scared that he wasn’t horrified, that it felt right…that he was a monster like my father.
I promised I would never let him be. I will keep that promise. He gave up his childhood, his soul, for me. I would do anything for him. He doesn’t even realise that Roxxane, as he calls her, is a part of that. He needs a weakness, someone he can share the world with, who can help him with his burden, or he’s going to burn out.
And I can’t lose him.
I’ll protect the crying boy with the blood on his hands and she will be the key.
It started in my head the very first day after the way he looked at her like she was a challenge, a puzzle he couldn’t figure out, and she wasn’t scared of him like everyone else. She met him head-on, just as stubborn, just as angry at the world. Roxy will save him.
She will save us all.
And we will damn her.
I should care, but I can’t seem to. Not when I get to keep her and my brother.
My eyes catch on something farther down the alley, a movement so slight, I wouldn’t have seen it if I wasn’t looking. “Twelve o’clock,” I murmur, hardly moving my lips.
“Yes,” Ryder snaps, still pretending to be on the phone.
The shadow moves along the wall and takes up residence behind a crate. I thumb out a quick text to Tony without looking, eyes on the silhouette. He fires, and we lurch forward as the car starts. Idiot, the fucking glass is bulletproof.
He tries to run, knowing we spotted him, but Tony blocks the alley at the other end, and then we’re on him. Rushing from the car and leaping across the hood, I tap his shoulder, and when he turns, I punch him in the face. He doesn’t go down though, he tries to hit me with his gun, but Ryder grabs him from behind and starts to choke him out, so I pluck his firearm from his hand and pistol-whip him across his temple.
He slumps in Ryder’s arms, who lets him drop to the ground. “See, brother? Easy.” I laugh.
Tony and Sam grab the man and drag him back to their car as we head to ours. “Diesel will be happy.” Ryder grins. “And we’ll get the information we need. They fucked with the wrong people.”
“Vipers, brother. Even snakes fear other snakes,” I agree.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
ROXY
I’m going to kill him.
Seriously. I’m going to kill Garrett. Garrett and I haven’t spoken all morning after what happened last night. This morning, Diesel dragged me from my room, and Garrett cooked me breakfast without saying a word to me. After, they tugged me into the living room where I fell asleep on the sofa. He won’t speak to me or even look in my direction.
It’s driving me nuts.
So what? He hates women. And yeah, he used me, but I enjoyed it. I would have told him no or kicked his ass otherwise. I don’t give a fuck, and for some reason, I want him. I need to peel away all that anger to reach that fear I saw underneath. To the man I know he is.
It seems so important, but he won’t let me, instead giving me the cold shoulder. Fuck that. I’ve never been the type to sit idly by. I survived this long by being a fighter and never giving up, no matter how scared I was. This is no different.
Whatever is between us has morphed over the time I’ve been here, and sleeping with Kenzo and Ryder has only cemented that. I want them, and I care for them—not that I’ll ever tell them. The bastards would use it against me.
I can keep fighting myself all I want, or I can revel in it. Bathe in the pleasure and power they offer. I’m tired of running, tired of living day to day, and Garrett doesn’t get to push me away because he’s scared.
I’m terrified.
Of him, of them, and what they mean to my body and heart. But I’m still here. Still fighting. So he has to as well.
I annoy him at first, poking him, kicking him, and when he snarls at me, I smirk in triumph. He goes back to ignoring me and watching TV, so I change the channel. He grunts and yells at me, but his phone rings.
I hear him talking to someone who sounds like Kenzo, so I keep changing the channel. He gets irritated and shouts and ends the call, glaring at me. “Behave.”
“Or what?” I grin. “Going to put me on my knees again?”
His eyes darken hungrily, his gaze dropping to my smirking lips in memory as he shifts on the sofa, no doubt remembering his cock there—I know I am. “That was a mistake.”
