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Swallowing hard, a wave of sadness washes over me as I rip the letter into tiny pieces, and watch the last remnants of my past fall to the floor in a rain of confetti. Then with a heavy heart, I gather up the pieces and walk to the window. Reaching through a gap in the bars, I open my palm, allowing the cool air of the desert night to take my last secret and scatter it to the wind.
3
Carrick
“It’s just as well you’re rich,” Beast comments, leaning back in the cream leather recliner on The Masks’ private jet as we fly over France, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “Rescuing women ain’t cheap.”
“Cynthia’s not the type of woman who needs a man to rescue her,” Jakub says.
Turning my attention away from the view out of the window, I meet Jakub’s gaze wondering what point he’s trying to make. We know Cyn’s capable of looking after herself. She’s resourceful, smart, mentally and emotionally strong. Fuck, do I know that, but this is the Skull Brotherhood we’re talking about. No amount of strength, physical, emotional, or otherwise will help her escape. She is valuable to them, and because of that will be kept on a tight leash. Of course she needs us. She fucking needed me to prevent them from taking her in the first place, and I failed her.
I fucking failed her.
Me. Not Arden. Not Lorcan.But me.
“So what you’re saying is that we’re flying to Tarifa in the southernmost point of Spain to meet this Vasko fella who may or may not have information on Cyn’s whereabouts, but you don’t think she actually needs our help?” Beast interjects with a boatload of sarcasm.
“No, of course that’s not what I meant,” Jakub retorts, cutting a look to Beast. “I just meant that Cynthia has experience dealing with cruel men. She’ll do whatever it takes to survive until we can get her out of there.”
“And your point?” I ask, feeling the tension mounting like a tangible weight.
It’s been getting heavier and heavier the longer we’ve been in each other’s company, and in this confined space it’s getting harder to ignore. We all know that this truce is a farce, built on nothing but sand. There’s no strength to it, no steady foundation. One wrong move, and we’re sinking beneath the weight of our pasts and years of mistrust and hate. The only thing keeping all of our heads above the tide is the thought of getting Cyn back.
“What’s the matter, Carrick, guilty conscience?” Leon asks, cutting me a knowing look.
Opposite me Lorcan’s jaw clenches. He shakes his head, warning me not to rise to the bait, but it’s too late. My anger has been smouldering ever since Cyn was taken from me, and Leon’s just poured petrol over the fire.
“You’re a useless prick,” I grind out through gritted teeth, feeling this feral kind of rage bubbling inside my chest, not because I hate him, but because he’s right. I do have a guilty conscience. It’s eating away at me like some sick, twisted little demon, gnawing at my bones, feasting on my insides, tearing at my motherfucking heart.
It’smyfault.
“No more than you, it would seem,” he throws back.
“You cunt,” I grind out.
“Enough, Leon,” Jakub says with a steady calm that irritates me.
He’s trying to prevent a fight, but doesn’t he fucking get it?
Ineedone.
Shifting forward in my seat, I glare at The Masks, allowing myself to settle into this feeling, letting it envelop me. I enjoy the way it scorches over my skin and muffles intrusive thoughts. Drawing on the anger, I allow it to block out everything else but the need to smash their faces in. It gives me something else to focus on instead of those bastard’s taking Cyn.
“Look at the three of you pretending your shit doesn't stink,” I spit, relishing the words that fuel the hatred inside of me for them, for myself. “You might not have hurt Cyn, but you abused Christy and The Numbers. So don’t act like you’re good men. You can’t rid yourself of your past or the things you’ve done.”
“Carrick, don’t do this,” Arden warns me, his hand resting on my thigh. “This isn’t your fight.”
I let out a bitter laugh, turning on him. “We’re brothers. If it’s not my fight, whose is it?”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“We should’ve settled this bullshit the second they walked into Tales.”
“Whether you like it or not, whether I like it or not, we need them.Enough,” Arden replies, his eyes flickering with an emotion I can’t quite read. A sense of dread fills my stomach. He’s keeping something from us.
“Arden–” I begin, but Beast snorts.
“If you’d started shit at Tales it wouldn’t have gone in your favour, mate,” Beast points out unhelpfully. I shoot him a glare, and he shrugs. “Just telling you how it is.”
