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Walking around so I could get a better look at him, I noticed the scar on his forehead. The forever reminder of what he did to ensure her safety and the lies he told to protect those he cared most about.
What this man endured was beyond comprehension. Most men would break, but not him.
Never him.
I didn’t know what life he would lead after all of this.
He lost everything that ever mattered to him.
He severed too many allegiances.
Hurt too many people.
Betrayed everyone.
Montana looked at me and said nothing.
What was there to say? We asked him to do the unthinkable, and we were looking at the aftermath. Before us sat a soulless man. A man who lost everything. His family, his brothers, his club, the love of his life. For what? In the end, he was right.
He warned us it wouldn’t work. He told us the risk was too great, but with no other options, he relented. His only stipulation. That we protect her at all costs. No matter what, she came first. We agreed, and he ensured she would never return. What he did wasn’t pretty. We knew it wouldn’t be, but to put an end to the threat, one of us had to make the ultimate sacrifice.
Any of us could have been in his position.
He just drew the short straw.
Leaning against the wall, I sighed.
“We have a problem. Petrovitch discovered our mole. He’s in the wind.”
Our friend said nothing as he continued to stroke the picture in his hand, as if it was the only thing in the world keeping him sane.
Knowing him, it probably was.
“Petrovitch has Illyria.”
Still nothing. Not even a flinch of emotion.
“Our plan is unraveling. It’s time. We need you to reclaim what is rightfully yours,” I said, as Montana dropped his bag at his feet.
He sighed, hanging his head, as he gently placed her photo on the bed beside him.
Bending over, he unzipped the bag as the contents shined brightly, clean and ready for their owner. I said nothing as he ran his finger along the long, sharp blades, reacquainting himself with their cold feel. Grabbing the handles of the bag, he picked it up and placed it on the bed.
“Is she alive?” he asked. His hard, gruff voice barely said as his words echoed around the room. I knew damn well he wasn’t talking about Illyria. This was never about her. My woman got caught in the middle because of my involvement and if he refused to help, I would lose her forever.
“Yes,” I affirmed. At least I could give him that.
It was the only small consolation I could give.
Standing to his full height, I pushed off the wall, not knowing what to expect. He wasn’t the man I remembered. What stood before me was a wildcard with nothing more to lose. So, when he turned his eyes on mine, I wasn’t shocked to see death looking back at me. There was no life in him. He was a shell of his former self.
He’d endured too much.
He would never be the man he was once.
This life hardened him.
“We need to bring you up to speed as soon as you’re ready,” Montana stated cautiously as he removed items from his bag, laying them out carefully, as if they were the most precious items in the world.
