Chapter Thirty Larissa #2
“If you want it to be a bedtime story”—he shrugs—“sure.”
“What’s the truth, Tyler?”
“That life is fucking life,” he states with clear grudge, “and neither gets any guarantees. They both gamble every day they are together.”
“But they’re happy?” I ask.
He slowly nods. “Yeah, for now, they are.”
“And Sean? Is he happy?”
His reply is instant. “He is.”
“And you?” I sink back against the tub and peer up at him.
“I’m fine with my life as it is.”
“That’s sad,” I sigh, discarding the razor.
“It’s what I choose,” he states unapologetically.
“Do you think I’ll be happy?” I ask, gazing up at him. “Or do the stars hate me too because of my name?”
“I’m not doing this,” he bites out.
“Not doing what?”
“Jesus, this is too fucking familiar,” he states with a sad, ironic shake of his head. “The fucking joke isn’t on you, here, Larissa. It’s on me.”
“Fine, Marine, fine,” I say, accepting his truth for what it is.
His decision about us, or lack thereof, before I lift to sit and grab his hand.
“I will only ask you for one thing.” My voice trembles, and I draw a steadying breath to remedy it.
“I know you won’t hurt my mother, but please don’t take Ignacio.
Lock him up, toss the key, but spare his life, Tyler.
Please,” I add, fucking hating that I’ve been reduced to begging.
Which was not at all a part of my plan. “I have no doubt he was robbed of his sanity after I left. Ciro hasn’t let me see him since I’ve returned, and in my mind, he’s still the helpless boy I had no choice but to leave with a fucking monster.
With little to no way to fend for himself.
Iggy isn’t lost to me, though he might be unhinged—”
“Which is why he needs to be put the fuck down,” Tyler states, pulling his hand out of my grip. “You’ll only be punishing him by caging him and forcing him to stay in his head.”
“No!” I boom, instantly standing in the tub. “No!” I repeat, finding my balance with what strength I have. “He’s only sixteen years old! He deserves a fucking chance to heal himself.”
“Lariss—”
“You aren’t this callous, Tyler!”
His eyes flicker with resolve as I refuse every bit of the damning resignation in his face.
“Let me speak to Tobias, right fucking now,” I demand, yanking a towel from a nearby rack before tucking it closed around me.
“This is my call,” he informs me, his tone devoid of any edge or grudge. Nor a trace of contempt where there was before, and I know it’s because his decision is final.
“Tyler, don’t do it,” I warn. “Don’t you fucking dare. You all owe me!”
“We owe you what?” he snaps as I exit the tub, and he stands, glaring down at me. “What the fuck do we owe you? You came to us for help, and we’re doing exactly what you asked, so what exactly do we owe you?”
“I never told Ciro. I didn’t tell him!”
“For your own personal gain,” he spits. “The same reason you’re using us to get rid of him, if that’s even the truth of it.”
“Why would I lie about that?”
His anger spikes as his accusatory eyes pin me. “You tell me,” he all but erupts, “because you’re still fucking lying to me!”
“Omitting is not lying, Tyler. You said you wanted to believe me! Fucking believe me!”
“Not when my fucking birds are on the line!” he roars.
“I have the same burden with my own! How can I trust you with anything when you won’t even consider sparing my brother after you—”
“After I what?!” He crowds me, forcing me to take a step back. “Say it!”
“I don’t know!” I scream. “Because that’s not why I came to you!”
“Tell me, right fucking now,” he demands. “Tell me everything!”
“I can’t, and you know I can’t!”
“Why?” he shouts.
“Because I’m like you!” I roar. “Because in my fucking club, I’m you!”
He stares back at me as our chests heave, eyes stilling in that truth before he drops them. “I know.”
“Tyler,” I whisper, palming his jaw, and his eyes close at my touch. Lifting, I whisper my lips across his as his jaw tenses in my palm. “Please don’t shut me out. I’ve told you everything you need to know.”
“Not enough,” he states, metal eyes opening as he casts our fate. “Not enough, Larissa.” He steps back then, releasing himself from my touch as the last of my hope dissipates and anger starts to take its place.
“Then do what you fucking will, Marine, but don’t blame me for how I react if you’re not willing to uphold my one request.”
He stiffens slightly, my threat not at all going unaccounted for.
He delivered this verdict to me because I’m vulnerable and helpless to do anything about it.
The only comfort I could take, if I wanted some, is that he doesn’t at all seem happy about it, which keeps me suspicious and guarded just before it dawns on me.
“What has he done?” I implore. “Tyler, what has Ignacio done?”
He lowers his eyes.
“Tell me!”
“It won’t make his death easier to stomach.”
“Well, this isn’t my first time, is it?” I snap as he stares back at me, features grave.
“I’ve lost every member of my family to Ciro.
My mother is now catatonic. Roc was too far gone when he left because of that monster.
They were all dead the second they entered that house.
I survived through sheer will alone, but it doesn’t mean that I can blame anyone for falling victim to him.
Tell me what Ignacio’s done. Maybe I can help him.
Or maybe it will give me the closure I need.
No more family, no more name. It can die with them.
Or maybe you kill it. That’s how you’re like him, you know it.
Like Ciro. You dole out death like a judgmental god! ”
My words land somewhere just beneath his armor, but I don’t at all claim my victory. Whatever was between us is over, and he’s telling me by twisting the knife into the one other weakness I gave him.
“Tell me when,” I ask. “Give me that much.”
“Why?” He tilts his head, his eyes flaring.
“Because I came to you, you fucking bastard! I deserve to know when. Jesus, give me something!”
Seconds tick by as I hold his guarded gaze in demand before he finally speaks. “Soon.”
It’s then that I allow my conflicting emotions to speak for me. “So, that’s it?” Though I don’t look up, I manage to catch his definitive nod.
“Then go, enemy.” I don’t bother to hide the shake in my voice as I hang my head, unable to look at him any longer. “I don’t know why you fucking bothered to have this pointless conversation—”
Within an instant, I’m pinned by a bruising kiss.
One so powerful, my legs instantly threaten to give out.
Furious with his effect, I cling to him before foolishly and selfishly feeding my own greed.
Thrusting my tongue along his until I’m no longer able to handle the pain it causes.
Yanking myself away, I slap him so hard the sound cracks along the walls, echoing the snap in my chest as it heaves in time with his.
Glaring up at him with watering eyes, I curse the fact that I can no longer mask what I’m feeling.
“You dishonor her, you know.” I glare at him with the hurt I feel. “Your wife,” I say as his cutting metal hardens, slicing through me. “By refusing to voice who she was to you. What she meant and still means. She deserves better.”
My implication that she’s not the only one isn’t missed.
He jerks the door open behind me, and within the same blink, I set my tears free as he disappears behind it.
It’s the finality in the slam of the front door, and in the vibration that follows, that helps align the fresh scar across my heart into place.
Utterly alone for the first time since I knocked on his door, I allow the burn to have its way with me.
Simultaneously setting fire to the last of the foolish hopes of my juvenile heart.