AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I'd hoped for so much for us. That it has to end like this, in this place, for these reasons, is something that I don't think I'll ever get over.
Can't grieve now, I remind myself. Too many people depend on me.
Stalking to the staff lockers, I throw one open and grab a pair of dirty mechanic's overalls out and throw them on. They're way too big and they smell like sweat and motor oil, but they'll have to do, because there's no way I'm wandering around Costa Oscura in my underwear.
Stepping out into the night, I'm overwhelmed by a sense of loss and urgency. Pain rips through me. My breathing comes in sobs that claw through my throat like razor blades. I've lost Owen, my love, the man I wanted for so long.
But I can't lose focus. I must return to the wedding, to Riley, to my promise.
Before it's too late.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Striker
The shock of cold water jolts me awake. Disoriented, I realize I'm lying on the cold shop floor, drenched and shivering. My head is pounding, an aching, sharp throb, and my brain feels like it's too swollen for my skull. Even the dim morning light that filters through the shop windows is too much, and I squint and shield my eyes from the brightness.
Slowly, the events of the night before and how I ended up on this floor unravel themselves in my twisted and torn thoughts. Danielle. She's gone.
I move, compelled to get up and look for the woman who left and took my heart with her, but a grunting noise brings me to a stop.
Rook stands above me, an empty bucket in hand.
"Wake up, Striker," he growls, but there's an unusual softness in his eyes.
"What time is it?" I groan, remembering roughly when I'd brought Dani here. I want to know how long it's been since she escaped. Maybe I can still catch her. Stop her from whatever insanity she's planning.
How can she be so determined to go back there, knowing what's going to happen?
"It's morning, that's what time it is."
I try to get up again, but my arms and legs aren't cooperating. Apparently, getting hit in the head with a soda can thrown at high speed isn't good for you.
Rook puts a hand on my shoulder, stopping my flailing.
"You okay, kid?" he asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.
I struggle to sit up, my head pounding fiercely, but it's the agony in my chest that's unbearable. All I can muster is a silent shake of my head.
Rook loops an arm under mine and helps me to my feet, then he guides me to a chair and helps me sit.
"Hell, Striker, I've been in that pit before," Rook confesses. "I'm not one to get emotional, not unless it involves Eliza, but you're not alone in this. You're suffering, yeah, but you've got people around you who still give a shit about you." His gruff voice carries a hint of understanding. "Remember, the MC is your family. We stick together."
His words, rough but sincere, resonate with me, yet they do little to ease the pain of losing Dani.
She's gone.
I had it all with her. Had the woman I've always wanted, and I fucked it up. Now, I've not only lost her, but in a few hours, the whole damn world is going to lose her because she's so intent on going back to that nest of vipers that is the Vertucci family wedding.
I try to stand again.
It works a little better than the last time. For two seconds, I'm on my unsteady legs, and then back on my ass in the chair.
Rook takes a small flashlight from his tool belt and holds it to my face, shining the light right in my eyes.
"Ow, asshole, what the fuck are you doing?"
He chuckles. "Checking you for a concussion."
