61. Cal Walker
N aomi wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone. I brought her back home and basically told her that if she cared about me at all, she would stay in the fucking house.
I knew Cass was still at Fairview, but I wasn’t ready to face her yet, and I knew Vox would get her home safe, even if we couldn’t be friends anymore. I had barely made it through the conversation with Ryan without fucking breaking down. I couldn’t handle dealing with a pissed-off Cassandra, too.
After almost an hour of trying to grill me on where I had been and what happened to me, I think Naomi finally caught on that I was hanging by a thread.
I’d tried my best to stay strong in front of Ryan, but telling him we were over almost killed me. I would have rather gone through two more weeks of torture than have to be the reason he had that heartbroken look on his face.
Then he kissed me, and it was the hardest thing in the fucking world to push him away.
I was sure Damian was watching somehow. This was all a test to see if I really had learned my lesson. I knew it was because I knew how Damian worked.
He may have let me go, but I was definitely on probation.
After Damian branded me, I spent the next day recovering in my room. He patched me up, and though the brand still fucking hurt more than any other injury I had ever sustained, I was grateful for the pain.
It’s what saved me from caving and giving in when Ryan kissed me. His chest had bumped the brand, and it snapped me out of the insanely powerful spell he seemed to cast over me every time he was even remotely close to me.
If I hadn’t pushed him away, Damian would have killed him. I was honestly still terrified he would kill him just because I’d allowed the kiss to happen at all.
All I could do now was stay away until this all blew over, and I could convince Damian that I’d forgotten all about my perfect little ginger snap.
After Naomi had finally taken pity on me and gone to bed, I sat in our living room with a bottle of scotch and my phone.
Damian hadn’t deleted my conversation with Ryan. The name ‘Ginger Snap’ (with over fifty unread texts) glared up at me in the dark.
‘Did you get any of my messages? I’ve been so worried about you, Cal.’
My thumb hovered over the conversation as I struggled with my desire to open it. I just wanted to drink up Ryan’s words like cold water on a hot day.
Instead, I took a burning swig of scotch.
This was likely another test.
I knew that the next time I was at Apex, I would be asked to turn my phone over to Damian. He would check to see if I read his messages. If I did, it wouldn’t help my case at all.
I should probably just delete them.
My thumb slid the conversation bar to the left, and I eyed the little trash can icon.
Just delete them.
I took another swig of scotch, the liquor burning down my throat and numbing the very different burn that was lighting up my chest where Damian had branded me.
I would forever live my life with his initials seared into my flesh, and I fucking hated it.
He was taking everything from me… even Vox was gone now.
My new partner was none other than everyone’s favorite asshat: McGreggor. When Damian woke me up this morning, informing me that I was now free to resume duty, he told me that I would be continuing the mission I had been working with Vox, but now McGreggor would be my second.
I didn’t even have the energy to feel bitter about it. All I felt was a deep, aching sadness. I was so tired, but every time I shut my eyes, all I saw was the heartbroken look on Ryan’s face when I told him I didn’t want him anymore.
He cared about me.
It was more than I could have hoped for. Even just a few weeks ago, I might have never believed there would be a day when Ryan would look at me like that.
Like he wanted me.
But, of course, I couldn’t keep him.
If Damian hurt him because of me, I would never recover from it.
When it wasn’t Ryan’s face haunting me, it was Damian’s whiskey eyes and the mind-bending pain of the brand searing into my chest that kept me from sleeping.
At least he’d kept his promise and let me take Naomi back home. He hadn’t hurt my sisters…
My thumb was still hovering over the tiny trash can that would erase Ryan’s messages forever when my phone vibrated.
It was a text from McGreggor, and I scowled. Taking another long pull of scotch, I opened it.
McGreggor:
I have a lead. Be outside in ten minutes, faggot.
Snorting, I took another few gulps of liquor before shooting him a thumbs-up emoji. My vision was blurry, and I was seeing double already.
I almost laughed out loud at the fact that I was about to go on a mission with a merc who hated me while I was already half in the bag.
Whatever. Maybe if I got lucky, it would be the last mission I ever fucking went on. As the alcohol seeped into my veins and I stumbled to my feet to get ready, I realized that for the first time after a life of fighting to survive, I didn’t want to fight anymore.
I just wanted to rest. Hopefully, everyone would be able to forgive me for being so weak.
I fucking tried. I really did.
But it didn’t seem to matter how hard I tried. I don’t know what got into me to make me think I ever deserved more than this lonely life of violence and pain. My mother had been right. I was just a fucking demon, or some kind of devil, sent to this earth to fuck everything up.
Ryan called you an angel, though…
I shook my head, ridding myself of the thought. Thinking of Ryan would do me no good. I needed to get him out of my head.
It was better for everyone if I stayed away from them. Especially him.
I’d ruined his life enough as it was.
I needed to forget about Ryan and focus on whatever it was Damian wanted me to do.
This way, no one but me had to get hurt.