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Fuck, I’m an idiot. How can I help fix it?
Layla walks with her head up high, walking around the corner with her merry band following behind her. Each step away from this damn bar seems to help, and I wonder what happened behind closed doors. I don’t think she was hurt?
I need her to stop to be sure. I can’t help the insistent hammering of my heart that demands that we put more space between us and the bar. She definitely has the right idea in this, just putting one step ahead of the next until we’re out of the Irish Mafia’s space.
Once we’re far enough removed that Layla’s shoulders begin to relax, I start to notice Draven moving closer to her.
“Layla, I know you’re trying to keep it together, and I respect that. Are you hurt?” he asks.
Now that I hear him say that, I can see the truth of it. There’s so much I haven’t bothered to learn about Layla, and here is Draven showing how much he gets her.
I’m so fucking stubborn.
Atlas’ fists are closing and opening in frustration, and I elbow him and shake my head. I know the signs. I know him better than I know myself. Atlas Ryles was going to say something really stupid.
“Not hurt,” Layla rasps. “Jordan is there and I had… to leave him. He’s fine but he’s stuck working for Seán.”
“Why exactly are you on a first name basis with the scary mafia man?” I ask. Well, the trophy for dumb questions apparently goes to me.
“Because I had to get on his level!” Layla screams at me. “I couldn’t be a weak girl, or a simpering sycophant, Mav. I killed his man tonight. I needed to make myself just interesting enough and dangerous for him to think twice about killing me or throwing me to his men.”
My eyes grow wide as I think about what Layla means. She offered herself up to the lion tonight, in the hopes he would decide she was more interesting alive.
“You beautiful, stupid girl,” I spit out. “This was basically a suicide mission!”
“I lived.” She shrugs. “You’re all alive, though a bit banged up. Draven, Tyler, I’m sorry about that.”
Atlas growls but bites his words back as he rubs at his ribs. We’ve been in fights before, it’s just not usually so one-sided. Getting banged up is par for the course. Neither of us are upset by that.
Layla just dismissed us. It didn’t feel very good.
“I have arnica in my bag at the hotel.” Tyler shrugs with a wince. “Is Mr. O'Brien going to retaliate for the death?”
“He’s insisting on a blood debt,” Layla whispers, making my blood run cold. A man like that could mean literal death or twist it into whatever he wants. “Seán wants my touring schedule sent to him, Tyler.”
“Done,” he says, eyes on her as she weaves on her feet. “Can I carry you, Little Flower?”
She almost looks drunk, but I know she’s not.
“I’m fine,” Layla says. “Jordan is laundering money for Seán, so I think he’ll be okay for a bit. I get the feeling there’s more to it though. I feel like he’s protecting someone.”
“Your uncle is tough,” Atlas says gently, making me glance at him. I notice he’s closer than he was a moment ago. I think he’s as worried as I am that she may pass out from the stress. “Anything else we need to know?”
“My knife needs to be sharpened,” she says absently, touching her thigh. Fuck, Layla isn’t making sense.
“Chick, are you feeling faint at all?” Draven asks gruffly.
“No?” she says. I don’t think Layla realizes it sounded as if she was asking a question more than making a statement.
I can’t help it. I feel sick to my stomach, and I can taste the bile creeping up my throat.
“I’m sorry, Layla,” I rasp.
“Sorry?” she asks, locking her eyes on me.
“Oh, fuck, really, Mav?” Draven grunts, his eyes on Layla’s twitching fingers by her thigh. I probably should have waited until she wasn’t armed before confessing this, but I couldn’t wait. It’s an apology I shouldn’t have to make because it never should have ever happened.
“I behaved really badly before and I still am. I shouldn’t have done all of those things before. We really thought it was for the best…” I trail off as I watch Layla’s eyes spark and catch on fire.
