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This was beyond surreal. It was like a high-speed chase you’d see in a special ops movie where the car parallels perfectly to the enemy’s window, exactly how he knew it would. The enemy’s eyes widened when he realized Jace had his gun pointed at the center of his face. Directly between his eyes.
In less than a second, Jace released his fury in a way I’d never seen before in real life. Shot after shot erupted from his gun, sending the enemy into convulsive shaking from the bullets lacing his entire body.
“Jace! He’s dead! Stop!”
He shot him a few more times, being ruthless and unforgiving.
“He almost killed you, Cove! Fuck him!”
He wouldn’t stop.
It was like he went into complete soldier mode. Again, I’d never seen anything like it before in reality. This wasn’t a movie, and Jace wasn’t an actor. He was the man I had a crush on since I was eight years old.
I knew he wouldn’t stop—he was too far gone. Reaching over, I acted on instinct, placing my hand on his forearm to bring him back to me.
Only then did his gaze shift to my hold before he locked eyes with me. However, it wasn’t Jace’s stare I was looking at. It was someone else’s entirely.
I didn’t know this man.
He wasn’t familiar.
I didn’t even recognize him.
At that moment, he was a complete and utter stranger.
So much passed through his tormented expression, and he didn’t try to hide it from me like he usually did. In a matter of seconds, Jace showed me how truly broken he was. Jace may have been sitting there with me, but his mind was elsewhere.
“Hey…” I coaxed, caressing the side of his face. “I’m okay, Jace… I’m okay.”
The second I touched his skin, he shook away the turmoil.
Backing away from my touch, he threw the shifter into first and drove us the hell out of there.
My chest heaved, trying to catch my breath as I pointed out the obvious. “You’ve been hit.”
“The bullet just grazed me. I’m fine.”
Once again annoyed, I stated, “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep pushing me away. I may be young, but I’m not that naive. I see the shadows you’re desperately trying to hide from me, but I still don’t understand why. You can trust me. I don’t know how I can prove that any more than I already have.”
He didn’t say a word, and the ride back to the safe house was quiet, but the silence did very little for my pissed-off state of mind.
Maybe it was the near-death experience.
Or the fear.
The hopelessness.
Or maybe it was my endless thought process of what was yet to come.
I had no control, no say, nothing. As soon as we walked through the front door into the dining room, my patience desperately snapped.
Unable to hold back, I laid into him, “How much longer do you expect to do this to me?”
I was fully aware this wouldn’t end well, and for the first time…
I didn’t give a flying fuck if it did.
Nineteen
Cove
“Bunny…”
“Don’t bunny me, G.I. Joe! I’m sick and tired of your mind games! You’re hot, you’re cold, and all your multiple personalities are giving me whiplash!”
“Not. Right. Now.”
He abruptly turned, and I didn’t waver. Grabbing the glass vase off the table, I chucked it at his head. Being the soldier he was, he ducked, and it crashed into the wall behind him.
He snapped around, growling, “You want to throw things at me like a fucking child?! You need to learn how to control your tantrums, bunny! I’m sick and tired of your constant stream of nothing but bullshit!”
My eyes widened, cocking my head to the side. “Oh, asshole! I’ll show you a tantrum!” I reached for whatever was in sight, hurling it in his direction with all my strength. “You selfish son of a bitch!”
His hands fisted at his sides.
“Enough!” he ordered from deep within his chest.
Our chests heaved in sync with one another. Both of our heated emotions were running wild.
I could feel his hate.
But I could also feel his protection and concern over me. The barricade surrounding his heart was a ticking time bomb, counting down the minutes until it exploded.
It was loud.
Disastrous.
Chaotic.
It would take down everything around him with it, like a tornado spinning around in circles. It elicited feelings from within me that I never thought were possible, emotions no one should ever have to experience.
I felt every loss of breath.
All his hurt.
His distress.
His anguish for me.
Which was why he was pissed off to begin with. I was almost hurt on his watch. If the bullets had been a couple of inches to the left, I would have died instantly from them shooting me in the head.
Nothing of that sort happened, yet he couldn’t forgive himself for it. I tried to keep my feelings in check, but they cluttered my mind, willing me to keep going, to push through.
