Chapter 7
seven
EZRA
Sometimes it’s easy to feel when the end is coming. Other times it smacks you in the face out of the blue and leaves you reeling. I’m sitting somewhere in between those two as I ride the elevator up to Declan’s hospital room.
He almost died. He almost fucking died because of me.
Patrick slit his throat and left him to bleed out in front of his wife.
Willa has been one of my closest friends for most of my life, and Declan became my best friend before I knew it was happening and could stop it.
Yet I almost ruined their lives because of my selfishness.
I know what I need to do. I already bartered the promise of information to Anderson Sinclair in exchange for help to save my friends’ lives.
He kept his promise, telling me Eva was no longer a problem, and I know it’s only a matter of time before he comes for payment.
I can’t hide anymore. I don’t want to hide anymore.
“Willa,” I whisper as I enter Declan’s room. Her head swings around, puffy red eyes meeting mine. “Why don’t you go grab a coffee? I’ll sit with him.”
“Thanks, Ben, but I need to be here when he wakes up.”
“I swear I’ll call you the minute he twitches.
You look like you need a break.” I know I’m being pushy, but I want a minute alone with Declan so I can reassure myself he’s safe.
I’ve avoided spending any amount of time with Willa and the others, worried they would recognize me.
I grew my hair and beard out, bulked up, and wore brown contacts, but I could never be sure that was enough.
“Okay,” she sighs, standing slowly from the seat next to Declan’s bed. “Thanks, Ben. For everything.”
I nod, keeping my expression neutral. Ezra was always happy, optimistic.
So Ben is grumpy and stoic. Or maybe that’s just how I am after years of running and always looking over my shoulder.
Maybe I should add resentful to my glowing list of personality traits after all the running and hiding meant jack shit.
The people I love most in the world were still hurt, and I missed out on all these years with them.
I take the seat Willa vacated and stare at Declan. His face is almost as pale as the sheets he’s lying on. The amount of blood I saw coming out of him explains that, and it’s an image I’ll never be able to scrub from my brain. It’s guilt I’ll never be able to make up for.
“Back already?” I ask, hearing the door to the room open. I turn to see Anderson Sinclair standing there, not Willa. “Oh.”
“I came to check on Declan, but you being here is fortuitous.” Anderson saunters up next to the bed, looks Declan over and then turns his gaze to me.
His brown eyes aren’t cold, but they’re not warm either.
He has the look of someone who gets what he wants no matter the cost. And what he wants is what I offered freely in a moment of pure desperation.
I stand slowly, pulling the USB drive from the front pocket of my jeans. I grabbed it before coming here, knowing Sinclair would seek me out. He takes it from my outstretched hand, brow furrowing in confusion. His brows draw even closer together as he watches me remove my contacts.
“My name is Ezra Irons. We have a lot to discuss.”