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I glance up at Wells, who nods for me to keep going. “So, how do you manipulate the pulse points? Monitor phones and other forms of contact, I’m sure. Is that it?”
“It’s normally enough,” Liam says. “But sometimes, we need to make a big splash. Get their attention so they show themselves or even come after us. Every mouse in hiding has a piece of cheese they can’t resist.”
The chaos of the fire and the call is still buzzing like a live wire with the flickering of that memory—my first introduction to the garage full of cars and their covert business. I can hear Liam’s warm chuckle, see the twinkle in his eye as I speed down the highway. He’s with me.
“Well, fuck, that was one hell of a pulse-point manipulation, High Society.”
WELLS
“Goddamn motherfucker!”
My fist strikes. Ice picks of white-hot, unbridled rage split my knuckles open, spilling my boiling blood.
I rear back again.
Blinded.
Wrathful.
Murderous.
Broken.
Another wallop so violent that the force yanks me with it. My scotch-induced trance sobering from the collision.
Blood pours.
It’s not enough.
No amount could atone.
Like a flip of a switch, clamoring and pandemonium pummel into me, my brain swimming against the currentin a sea of shouts and commands.
Gage smashes me into the wall, pinning me there. In all our years, he’s never done that. Never had to. I’m the one who’s always in control. His face is stark, irises darkened with affliction as he flexes his temple vein with warning.
“Not like this, Chief,” he urges, but the room is still abuzz with outrage, and I can’t restrain myself from shoving against him. In my fury of adrenaline, he wrestles to contain me as Ty’s voice crashes through my bloodthirsty haze.
“It was the loyalty test, Wells. And he took a fucking bullet for her!”
Loyalty test.They all fucking knew.
The five most agonizing weeks of my life are somehow worsened by what he stole.
Gage loosens his clutch on my neck, stepping aside in a credulous act of trust. No one should trust me in this state. I pull my pistol from the harness, raising it before any of them can blink, my seething gaze scanning Gage and Ty.
And Liam.
His face is cracked and bruised and bloody from my punches. Swollen and guilty. His arm is stationed stiffly at his side, wounds from his chest surgery still healing.
But all I see is her.
Her hollow eyes and pleading cries.
The gauntlet of torture inflicted.
Her withering spirit spiraling and distorting until it emerged as a destructive disconnect.
Bile coats my heavy tongue. I detest every last one of them, including myself.
