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TATUM
Alex stormed out, and it was slow going, dragging myself out of his apartment. I fell a couple of times, crawled on my hands and knees until I found a piece of furniture to use as leverage and got back on my feet. I was sure my ribs needed to be taped. My body throbbed like one vicious aching bruise, a deep, heavy emptiness beneath the unrelenting pain.
These were the rules, and I’d broken my oath of loyalty to him the instant I’d made it by keeping silent about my father. I swiped the blood from my mouth, smearing it on my shirt as I staggered out of his apartment, down the hall, and into mine.
Mine no longer, I reminded myself. This would be the last time. I’d never return.
Struggling, I hauled a suitcase out of the closet, threw it on the bed, and tossed in personal items I couldn’t leave behind. Perhaps, it was a lesson in futility since I didn’t know how long I had to live.
My guns were the only items I needed. Alex was likely moving his mother and grandmother out of my mother’s house as we spoke. I’d use it as my base of operations for the week I had to accomplish my assignment. If I survived, then I’d leave for LA to kill Grigore. At least, I would take pleasure in destroying the miserable wretch who’d rained down pain on me and my family.
I tore off my clothes and changed into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, all black. Making my way into the bathroom, I taped my ribs and patched myself up as best I could. I pulled out the guns I needed from my safe, quickly finished packing, and left my suitcase at the front entrance.
And waited for Clara to return from her girls’ day with Star.
Clara.
Images of her flooded my mind, and my vision blurred with unshed tears.
I was going to die, but my greatest regret was that I’d never see her again, never see my family again.
I slumped against the wall and rubbed the center of my chest, aching with sharp, stabbing pain. Sweat coated my hairline, and I swiped it off with a quivering hand. I had one last task before I went on my suicide mission.
Break up with her.
I had to convince her I didn’t care about her anymore. It was the only way to protect her. Heavy emptiness, numbness spread across my chest like black tendrils of poison. It would soon engulf me in the flames of agony, but my agony didn’t matter if I could spare her.
Spare her from putting her clan and her future in jeopardy in a futile attempt to save me. She’d do anything to rescue me, but I was beyond saving. She couldn’t stop Alex, and once I was gone, she’d be left with nothing but the belief that she’d failed me.
I clutched my chest, my nails scraping my skin. Fuck, this was going to hurt. I gritted my teeth. I had to do it. I had no choice. None whatsoever.
Sitting down heavily on the sofa, I must have shut down and dozed off because I startled awake to find Clara staring down at me. Abandoned bags of Prada and Hermes encircled her as she kneeled on the ground beside me.
“What happened?” Her voice turned angry. “Who did this to you?”
She reached out to touch me, and God, I wanted her soft touch so much I could’ve cried, but I pretended to flinch.
“No, don’t,” I warned.
“It hurts,” she declared, settling on her heels between my splayed legs. God, she looked so good there, so right.
“Why didn’t you call me so I could come home and take care of you? Were you jumped by a posse or what? There’s no way a couple of guys could’ve done this much damage.”
She had on mascara and pink lip gloss, the only makeup she wore nowadays. Her dark lashes made her eyes pop like twin spheres of the most perfect shade of cornflower blue.
So clear. So rich, deep, and strong. So like her.
My heart clenched, pounding out wave after wave of bone-shattering agony. I had to rub my chest in circles to stop from heaving.
“I have to—” My voice was harsh from clogged emotion. I cleared my throat. “I have to leave for a job. You must return to California.”
She drew in a sharp breath, her gaze traveling over my face, trying to read me. My insides churned a whirling maelstrom of helpless rage and heartache, but I was a locked vault; there was nothing for her to read. For her, I had to be.
“You can’t tell me what’s going on,” she announced.
Unable to speak, I shook my head.
“When do I come back, or will you come to me?”
