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Sinn
Man Of Steel by Brantley Gilbert
To say that I’m pissed off is the understatement of all fucking understatements. I can’t believe that The Crocodile showed up out of the blue and started meddling in MY business. And not justshowed up, no, apparently, he was fucking summoned. Summoned! By one of my own! Someone has clearly gone behind my back and the betrayal I feel ispoisonous. No, it’s more than that.
It's murderous.
What reason could anyone have to summon my uncle? I haven’t a goddamned clue, but I will fucking find out. But right now, I need to find Wendee.
She doesn’t know the truth, and after that little charade The Crocodile just pulled, I can only imagine what type of nonsense is running through her mind. I saw the fear in her eyes as she looked at me. It was the first time she’s ever looked at me that way and it gutted me. It was like my heart was being scooped out of my chest with a dull and rusted old ice cream scoop.
The Crocodile is an expert at weaving his web of misdirection and deceit. Honestly, he should be called The Spider or The Fucking Snake instead of The Crocodile. But, just like a real crocodile, he’s dangerous and cunning. Even worse, he’s patient. He’ll sit back and wait, and wait, and wait, until it’s the absolute perfect moment to strike. And once he sinks his teeth into you, he pulls you under and you’ll never be free again.
Even though he’s right, she is the only solution to my current problem, I can’t let Wendee become his next victim. I just can’t. But it's not my choice no make, it’s Wendee’s. On one hand, I’m being extremely selfish by choosing to keep the truth from her, and on the other hand, I’m giving up…everything. But none of that is important right this second. Only Wendee is important. And right now, I feel like something is wrong. Terribly wrong.
I storm up to the bar, looking at everyone in a new light. A light of betrayal. Who did it? Why? Hook was just here when he shouldn’t have been. Was it him? My own fucking brother? My blood!
“Where is she?” I demand, as Tink approaches from behind the bar.
“I don’t know. Why? Is something wrong?” She asks, feigning innocence.
If there’s one thing I know about Tink it’s that she’s not fucking innocent. I know she hasn’t been happy with how I’ve been acting lately, and I know it has everything to do with Wendee. But is her jealousy strong enough to make her betray me like this? She’s been with me a long fucking time and she’s seen me with more women than just Wendee. Surely, it can’t be her. Can it?
I hate being uncertain and not being in control of every miniscule detail around me. My anger is raging harder than a category five hurricane, but right now I’m in the eye of the storm, my worry for Wendee overriding even my deepest-rooted anger.
“I swear to GOD,” I say, in a dangerously calm tone, the use of His name on my lips is a weapon. A threat. And everyone is going to know just how fucking serious I am right now. “When I find out who summoned him, they’re going to wish for the torture of Hell over what I’m going to fucking do.”
I watch the fear wash over Tink’s face, the hard swallow her throat makes, and I can hear the frantic beating of her heart. She’s fucking terrified. But is she terrified because I’m on the verge of total destruction, uncaring of the innocent souls who get caught in my path, or is she terrified because she knows something?
One way or another, I will find out. And whoever did this, will pay the appropriate price. A price of blood and pain.
I push off the bar and storm down the hallway and toward my private elevator. Wendee is still here. I canfeelher. I need to find her and convince her to listen to me. She needs to know everything. She needs to know the truth. Fuck! I should have told her sooner. If I had, The Crocodile wouldn’t have been able to rattle her. She never would have looked at me that way.
Scared. She was scared of me.
When I’m the one person in this godforsaken place that she doesn’t need to fear. She never needs to fear me. She never needs to fearanyoneas long as she’s here with me. My selfish needs and wants kept my mouth shut and now my back is up against a wall, and I’m forced to play defense. I just hope she listens to me.
I punch the button to call the elevator and the doors swoosh open instantly. “Wendee!” My voice comes out in a strangled panic and my heart constricts in my chest at the sight of her. I crash into the elevator and fall to my knees in front of her.
She’s sitting on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, her hands griping her head, and a waterfall of tears cascading down her cheeks.
“Make it stop,” she whimpers. “Oh, God, please make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop,” she repeats over and over, shaking her head and squeezing her eyes closed.
“Wendee,” I reach out and gently touch her knee. When she doesn’t protest or recoil away from me, I reach for her face. “Wendee, look at me,” I manage to control my own rising panic and I speak in the hard, commanding voice I recognize.
It seems to get her attention because she brings those haunted green eyes up to mine. The tears stop as recognition seeps through. “You,” she whispers. “It was you.”
“Wendee, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Tell me what’s wrong.” My eyes quickly dart over what I can see of her body. I don’t see any wounds, there’s no blood, but something is clearly wrong.
“I remember. I remembereverything,” she moves her arms slowly, eyes wide and horrified, as she holds her hands out to me, palms up.
How is she suddenly remembering? Did The Crocodile do something to her? These are questions that can’t be answered in this moment, but answers that I need to have, as soon as she’s calm and can explain what’s happened.
I take both of her wrists in my hands and rub my thumbs across the soft, sensitive skin, trying to give her some kind of comfort. The tears start flooding down her cheeks again, her body is violently convulsing with her guttural sobs. “I…waited for… you,” she stammers through her sobs. “I thought…you’d come… back. You never… you never came…back,” her voice breaks.
Fuck! I can’t stand to see her like this! I swear I can feel her pain as if it were my own. I can feel all of her fear, all of her shattered hope, and I swear I feel something inside of me breaking, too. This brings back all of the emotions and memories fromthatnight. The night I lost myself, lost control of my anger, and broke the rules. Forher.
“Wendee, please, stop crying,” I beg, in a voice I no longer recognize. I’m losing my grip on the cold, detached, and domineering version of myself and am being replaced by something foreign. Something I don’t fully understand. “It’s going to be ok. Everything is going to be ok,” I try to reassure her.
