30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
LYNX
There’s a hollow ache in my chest that I’ve never felt before. A pain that just won’t relent. And it’s damn near unbearable.
It’s only made worse each second that passes where I watch Harlow sleep, her midnight hair splayed out around her head, her cheeks ruddy from crying and skin pale from whatever emotions are ailing her.
Clearly, I underestimated the state of her mental health.
She may be strong and resilient and stubborn on the outside. But deep down, there’s a darkness that consumes her. A very large part of her that’s susceptible to wanting to end her own life.
I did that to her. I broke her.
The look on her face when she held my gun to her head. The tears streaming down her cheeks. The fucking acceptance of her own death snuffing out the fiery light dancing behind her irises.
Fuck.
I can protect her from outside forces. From the men who are out to kill her.
But I can’t save her from herself.
And that’s what hurts the most.
Dragging a hand through my hair, I lean forward and prop my elbows on my knees and stare down at the cell phone in my hand, my thumb hovering over Lily’s contact.
Accepting the situation for what it is—an absolute nightmare—I type out a text to my sister, the only therapist in the world that I would trust with Harlow’s life.
It isn’t long before my phone vibrates.
Lily: I’ll be there in an hour. Keep her calm until then.
Keep her calm.
Christ. The girl is a loose cannon right now. Keeping her calm will be about as easy as diffusing a bomb.
Glancing at the syringe on the table beside me, I exhale a ragged breath and type out a response that I’ll do my best. Then I set my phone on the table beside the sedative I’ve prepared in case I need it, relax back into the chair, and wait patiently for Harlow to wake.
When those caramel eyes I’ve been aching to see finally crack open and she peers over at me with a numbness I’ve only ever witnessed after I handcuffed her to my bed, a wave of guilt washes over me, eroding whatever thoughts I had of forcing a drug into her veins.
Not that I need to anyway. Because the Harlow I know—the fiery, bold temptress with the defiant streak I’ve grown to adore—is nowhere to be found. In her place is the girl from her file, the one with the missing soul and broken heart.
The one I vowed to avenge and protect.
A long, tense silence stretches on where we simply stare at each other. Me in agony and riddled with guilt. Her with … absolutely nothing left inside.
Standing from the chair, I saunter over to her and take a seat on the edge of the bed. When she rolls over and curls into the fetal position with her back to me, I drop my head in my hands and groan.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. She doesn’t move an inch.
But I can feel her body tense beside me, so I know she’s still here in this moment and not dissociating the way I worried she might.
“But not for killing him, Harlow. Or any of them for that matter. I’d do that a million times over to keep you safe.
But I am sorry for making you watch. I took it too far. ”
More silence.
“Lily will be here in an hour.”
The mention of my sister causes her to stir. But she remains still and quiet.
“Are you hungry?”
No response.
Despite the deep-seated instinct to touch her—to pull her into my arms and hold her—I rise from the bed and tell her, “I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”
Then I leave, grabbing the syringe and my phone on the way out.
Whether she decides to stay here on earth with me or allow her demons to win remains to be seen.
But whatever she may choose, my heart will follow.
Because it’s hers now. Every blackened piece of it.
Lily shows up exactly when she promised, a concerned look on her face and a professional air I’ve never seen before surrounding her.
Right now, she’s not my annoying baby sister. She’s an intelligent businesswoman who runs a successful therapy practice.
And she’s leaving no crumbs.
“Where is she?” she asks coolly, her chin held high as she stares at me expectantly.
“In my room.”
Without a word, she moves past me and straight down the hall. When she realizes I’m close behind, she spins around and says curtly, “The last thing she needs is you breathing down her neck. Go wait out there. I’ll come fill you in when we’re done.”
And then she’s gone, disappearing behind my bedroom door and leaving me speechless in the hallway.
Deciding there’s no sense wallowing in pity, I head to my office and fire up my laptop, resisting the urge to pull up the surveillance camera in my bedroom to check in on Harlow.
To pass the time, I dive headfirst into research, frustration bleeding out through my fingertips as I hammer away on the keyboard.
When I get absolutely fucking nowhere, I fire off a message to an old college friend who works tech for some fancy underground mercenary-run military group.
Sweetwater Security, they call themselves. A group of Navy SEALs with a penchant for vigilante justice. They work within the morally gray area of the law, so I know they’ll keep this to themselves.
Sloane, the tech specialist, responds shortly after, telling me she’s on a job right now but will take a look and let me know what she can find on the final two fucks I have left to murder.
Still, it’s not good enough. Nothing will ever be good enough.
Itching in anticipation, I take to pacing my office.
When that doesn’t help, I send Severo a text message.
Lynx: I assume you know by now.
Severo: Your sister isn’t exactly discrete. This is risky, son. I don’t like it.
Lynx: I know the risks. I’m taking them anyway.
Severo: There’s no room for error here, Lynx.
Lynx: I understand.
Severo: I’d like to meet her.
Lynx: I’m not sure I can do that, sir.
Severo: You can and you will.
Severo: Thanksgiving is next weekend. Bring her then. We’ll figure the rest out later.
Groaning, I drag a hand down my face and look to the ceiling for guidance. When I find none there, I accept defeat and respond.
Lynx: Yes, sir.
Leaning over my desk with my palms flattened on the top of it, I drop my chin to my chest in an attempt at pulling myself together.
There are two more of those pricks out there. Sloane agreed to look into them and get back to me, but in the meantime, we’re sitting ducks. At the mercy of whatever fate has planned for us.
I huff out a humorless laugh at the memory of Harlow’s warped perspective on fate versus karma.
Christ. Perhaps she’s right. Because this feels an awful lot like my past is finally catching up to me.
A small knock on the door snaps me back to reality, and I glance up to find Lily standing in the doorway, a severe frown pulling at her features.
“How’d it go?” I ask cautiously, foreseeing an ass chewing in my near future.
She cuts straight to the chase.
“I’ve prescribed her a strong antianxiety and antidepressant medication.
But she’ll need ongoing therapy and monitoring until they kick in.
That can take several weeks. She’ll be sleepy for the next few days but should bounce back once her body recovers from the emotional trauma.
There’s a bottle of sedatives in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom if she needs them.
But only if she needs them. They’re heavy duty and could knock out a man twice your size if given too much.
As for long term prognosis, she’ll likely always need some help.
From what I’ve gathered, she’s been through more than most would survive.
Traumas like that don’t just go away. They often last a lifetime.
Don’t let her drive until she’s fully alert.
Make sure she’s eating and drinking plenty of water.
The meds can be hard on the stomach, so a bland diet may be helpful.
No alcohol whatsoever until she’s stable and can drink responsibly.
If you suspect she’s having dark thoughts again, don’t wait for me to come.
Get her to a hospital and check her in. I’d recommend you keep an eye on the knives in the kitchen and anything else she could use to harm herself in the meantime.
If she becomes uncharacteristically happy, it’s a sign she could be trying to mask her true feelings to earn your trust enough for you to leave her alone.
So I’d be cognizant of sudden mood swings that don’t seem quite right. ”
I stare at her unblinking, absorbing every word she says.
“And Lynx,” she says more quietly. “For the love of god, finish this fucking job so the poor girl can sleep at night.”
I recoil in shock.
“You know?”
Lily rolls her eyes and rests a hand on her growing bump. “I’d be insulted that you didn’t think I was smart enough to figure out what you and our uncle do for a living if it weren’t for that stupid look on your face.”
“Lil.”
But she raises a palm in the air, cutting me off. “Don’t bother. I know enough to know I don’t want to hear a peep from you, mister. You or Severo. Just promise me you’ll tidy this up so she can move on.”
Gritting my teeth, I nod once.
There’s an uncomfortable stretch of silence where my sister analyzes my expression and studies my body language, picking me apart cell by cell with that big brain of hers.
Fuck. She’s better at this than I thought.
She gives me a few more instructions, and I ask a couple questions about the medications she prescribed.
Then I walk her to the door and help her into her vehicle.
Before closing the driver’s door, I prop an elbow on the roof of her car and lean down to say, “Thank you, Lil. I owe you one.”
“Pfft. You owe me way more than one, big brother.”
And then she’s off to do whatever she does with her days now. I suspect there’s a whole lot of shopping involved.
Eager to set eyes back on Harlow, I make my way inside and head straight for the bedroom.
To my surprise, I find her sitting upright, her spine pressed against the headboard, her ankles hooked, and a thick book in her lap. On the cover is a shirtless man.
I shake my head and huff out a humorless laugh.
“I see my sister left you with one of her raunchy novels.”