Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
CHAOS
Istep inside the house, I won from a sad bastard who lost a poker game. Over two years, I threw out his old furniture and brought in new pieces, turning the cliffside place into something more modern. But it still wasn’t home, not without her in it.
I move down the hallway toward the bedroom straight ahead. When I sit on the edge of the bed, my eyes drift to the closet. I even bought her clothes in case she ever gets the chance to move in with me.
I fall back onto the mattress, my head tipping toward the ceiling.
I broke her.
I got what I wanted.
I showed her every twisted corner of myself I kept locked away for years, and she still didn’t even flinch. I tried so hard to shove her out of my life, and she still clings to me. She still wants her stalker to be her mute brother, and somehow, even that wish came true for her.
I spread my arms and close my eyes. All I see is her body pressed against mine. All I see is her face, her full lips parting, asking for mine.
I need her here.
I breathe out. The clock on the wall ticks. When I open my eyes, the hands point to nine in the morning.
I spent the night with her, and I don’t regret it.
My phone buzzes. Nico’s name flashes on my screen.
The President wants us to meet to prepare the plan for tonight.
Ok. I can be there in fifteen minutes.
I type back.
See you.
I push up from the bed and peel off my clothes. I can still smell her on me. The sweet trace of vanilla that somehow got stuck on my skin. Part of me wants to keep it there. But part of me knows all she can be for now is my favorite secret. And that’s not the only secret I keep from them.
Harper says the President hates my dad because he took her from him when she was five. Ever since, Dad has stayed on him, sending inspectors to the bar, checking licenses, digging into every corner, looking for a reason to shut him down.
He has been waiting for payback for a long time.
That’s why I keep my name hidden. If he ever finds out I am a Harrington, he will string me up in his own bar and leave me there like a warning, dry and swinging for everyone to see.
I step into the shower and turn it on. Warm water slides over me, stinging the fresh ink on my neck from this morning. I lean against the brown wooden tiles as the water runs down my back, drops tracing the lines of the skull tattoo across my back and shoulders.
I take the shampoo and drag it over my body, through my hair, across my face.
I don’t know who I am anymore. I turned into a shadow caught between Chaos and Judas.
My fist slams into the tiles. Water sheets down my face, washing the soap away.
I wish I could stop the world from spinning, freeze time just to stay with her. I can’t. Time is the one thing I can’t fucking bend, and the one thing I can’t hold. It slips through my fingers while I just stand here, hoping for one more night with her.
My mind is a dark room where everything rushes at once. I am terrified of being alone, so I keep going back to her, hoping she can hold me. Hoping she can take in the worst of me first, so maybe she can love what is left that is good.
God help me, because I never know when the darkest parts will rise again.
The blackouts still come. Flashes of what I did. Flashes of what I could do. I am afraid I might hurt her, but it hurts more not having her here.
For a year, I spent hours learning how to speak, and I still can’t say her name the way it should sound.
I hate myself for that. For another year, I spent nights watching her.
She has no idea what she does to me. How hard my cock reacts when she is close.
She has no idea that while she sleeps, I lie beside her, making sure she stays warm.
I know I am a fucking psychopath. I never once told her it was me. I have no idea if she could ever forgive what I have done. But even if she doesn’t, I will keep pulling her back to me until she does.
I turn off the water and grab the towel, dragging it over my skin.
Today is Halloween. The President probably wants Halloween masks on all of us, so no one suspects a thing.
I walk back into the bedroom, the towel wrapped around my waist. My eyes lock on the closet. I pull on black boxers and drop the towel onto the chair nearby. I step into black sweatpants, then slide my feet into the black sneakers by the table.
I face the mirror. I stare at myself, and all I see is Chaos. That is who I am now.
I grab the black hoodie hanging behind the closet, pull it over my head, and walk out.
I move through the hallway toward the entrance, then down the stairs to my bike. I pull the helmet over my wet hair. It used to bother me. Now my head is already pounding with everything I can’t shut off.
I swing a leg over the seat and turn the engine. I twist the throttle and shoot down the road, the wind tearing at my jacket.
I promise you, Carmen. I will fucking protect you. I swear I will. Even if I have to drag you back and lock you inside these walls.
I step into the bar. Papers and photos of the Harrington house are spread across the pool table. The President looks up as I approach and gives a short nod.
“You’re late.”
He jerks his chin for me to come closer. I move in. Cigarette smoke fills my lungs before I even reach the table. Nico presses one into my hand.
I drag it to my lips and light it, pulling the smoke deep, like it might drown out the noise in my head. For some time, I tried to hold smoke inside, in the hope it would kill me, but it never did.
“At one, you go here,” the president says, stabbing a finger at the entrance on the map. “One of my guys said no one will be inside. You’ll have time. I wanted to burn it, but that old buffoon doesn’t live there, so we will trash it instead. Take anything worth something.”
Heads nod around the table.
“Next week, we will burn his place. But what I need some of you to find for me is a file on Maria and Sofia De La Cruz.”
My throat tightens.
Carmen’s mom and her little sister.
“Got it,” someone says. More nods follow.
As he gathers the photos and folds the maps, I grab Nico by the arm and sign.
How does he know about the De La Cruz family?
Nico only shrugs.
Harper tilts her head toward the bar, and we move that way. Nico leans in and asks her, “Who is Maria De La Cruz?”
She presses her lips together and flicks her hand like she wants to brush the question away. “No clue. And I don’t want to know.”
His hate for my dad is not just about Harper. It feels like there is something else behind it.
Everyone lies so clean in this place that asking questions is a good way to get a knife in your back. They will smile while they do it, and no one will ever ask why. They will just follow along.
Fallen Saints are supposed to be the brotherhood I never got to have. Instead, they became a gang that wants to crush anything in its path, and I stand in the middle of it, caught between loyalty and blood. And my loyalty was never here.
It’s finally time. Time to trash my family home. The place that’s full of ghosts and demons, I can’t face.
We park in front of the garage and walk through the grass toward the entrance. One of the men pulls his cock out and pisses on the fence I used to slam a ball against when I played soccer right here.
My jaw tightens. I look away and keep moving.
Another one doesn’t even bother with the door. He grabs the chair from the patio and hurls it through the glass wall that shields the pool. The crash explodes through the house, with shards scattering across the tiles and triggering the alarm.
Fucking idiots.
I rush inside, yanking my black bandana over my face. My boots pound up the stairs as I rush to check her room. The bed is made, but she’s not here.
I turn toward the table by the mirror. My eyes move down to a yellow flyer. As I lift it up, in big red letters it says, “Halloween Party,” and the main host is Ella.
I swallow hard.
If she and Carmen party together, I will burn myself down to the ground.
I snatch the flyer, fold it, and shove it into my pocket. Then I head to the hallway to my old room. The mask is still on the table.
Just what I need.
I grab it and walk out.
I tilt my head as one of them rushes past, eyes wild. “We have to go. Three minutes.”
I nod.
Of course, we had three minutes when he smashed a window and tripped the alarm.
I move down the stairs. The office is the last place I need to check, but I have to find the file on Maria and Sofia. Around me, the others grab whatever they can carry, and someone even laughs as they wave Carmen’s red bra in the air.
I roll my eyes.
I can hear the sirens rising in the distance. But that doesn’t slow me down.
I reach the desk and rake through the drawers. But there is nothing I need. My eyes lift to the shelves, and I see a red book with the year 2014 stamped on its spine. I remember Dad always wrote dates in that book.
So I grab it and turn.
“Let’s go,” someone shouts.
I sprint after them, cutting right toward the driveway where the bikes are parked. I shove the book and the mask into my backpack, swing it over my shoulders, and run for my bike.
It’s time to disappear.
I slide the helmet on, the bandana still covering my face. The engine turns on as I twist the throttle. The back tire spins, smoke curling up behind me as I launch forward. The others shortly follow after me.
We are not driving in the same direction.
I lean into the right curve, feel the bike settle under me, then straighten out as the road stretches ahead.
I have to go to Ella’s place. I know the address. We have hooked up there more than once. I know it’s close. Ten minutes, maybe less.
I glance over my shoulder, once, then twice, making sure no one follows.
I tilt the bike and cut left, the road pulling me straight toward her house.
The music hits before I even see the house. The place is smaller than the Harrington mansion, but it’s packed. I roll into the driveway and park beside a pink Yamaha.