Chapter 3
Damien
‘Failure’ – Breaking Benjamin
My hands shake as I put the Audi in park, and I barely have the strength to turn the car off.
I can still feel him in my arms, and how heavy he felt as I carried him out of the warehouse.
We’ve wrestled and beat the shit out of each other a thousand times, but he’s never felt as heavy as he did an hour ago.
I didn’t want anyone to help me bring him out.
He was my best friend. He was my responsibility, and I failed him.
The least I could do was carry him away from his final moment—to at least keep his body safe.
The image of his lifeless eyes keep flashing before me, and he’s what I see instead of the streetlights illuminating the road.
Especially now that I’m parked in front of his domain, he’s all that I feel right now.
His scent, his energy, his spirit—it’s all present here.
I know this is where he came the moment the light left his eyes, and the moment his heart stopped.
I know this is the place, and the people, he wanted most.
I force myself to get out of the car, instantly regretting that I didn’t change clothes, and decide to go to the trunk to grab my leather jacket.
For the first time probably ever, I zip it up all the way, praying to whatever God exists that she doesn’t see his blood covering my shirt.
From what I can see in the middle of the dark street, I appear to be fully covered, but it’s not like I have any other choice.
I need to do this. He wouldn’t want someone else to tell his wife, and I would hate myself if I pawned the task to another’s hands.
As I walk down the sidewalk, one I’ve walked so many times, towards their front door, I feel like a stranger—a foe that crossed enemy lines.
I stare at the small playhouse that sits on the front lawn, as well as the little slide and yard toys that riddle the grass, and reality hits me harder than any bullet ever could.
I’m about to destroy three more lives. All because I wasn’t fast enough.
I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t smart enough.
Now, a little girl will go to bed every night and ask where her daddy is.
A baby boy will grow up never knowing his father.
And it’s all my fault.
I take one last heavy step up to the door and raise my hand to knock, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
A part of me feels bad that I didn’t call first to tell her I was coming, but a phone call from me at three o’clock in the morning would’ve been worse than this.
Then the anticipation would’ve eaten away at her until I inevitably showed up to finish the job.
So, I take one last deep breath and bang on the door, hoping that I don’t wake up the kids.
After a few minutes, and I don’t notice or hear any movement from inside, I think about using their spare key.
It would be even worse to scare the shit out of her before I give her the worst news of her life, but this has to be done.
I knock one more time, a little louder than before, and thankfully after a moment, I see their bedroom light cut on.
As her steps come closer to the door, I adjust my jacket one more time, trying like hell to stay as covered as possible.
My heart starts to beat out of my chest, and my eyes sting with premature tears.
I swallow harshly, unwilling to let them fall until I’m alone.
As much as this kills me, my pain doesn’t matter anymore.
Hers does, and the pain his kids will feel surpasses anything else I could experience right now.
The lock on the door clicks, and the moment it opens, my world comes crashing down around me.
She wipes her eyes to see clearly, and then when her gaze meets mine, the expression on her face turns into something friendly—recognizing me instantly as someone she trusts—only for realization to hit like a fatal blow.
The familiarity changes in an instant, and her gaze hardens, understanding what this means. Her face starts to twitch in agony…
And my heart breaks all over again.
Her hand drops from the door, and her jaw tightens, topping off the look of betrayal and disbelief.
She shakes her head lightly before she draws in a sharp breath, preparing her lungs for a war cry.
As if I can see her collapse before her legs give out, I reach out and pull her to my chest, instantly feeling the heat against me from her piercing exhale.
She screams so loudly that it rattles my ear drums, and she grips my jacket so tightly she might tear it apart.
I can’t let her, though. I can’t allow her to see her husband’s blood staining my clothes.
My hand moves to cradle the back of her head, and I hold her so tightly to my body that she might be able to trade my soul for his.
“Henry’s gone, Marissa. I’m so fucking sorry…”
“Damien?” My angel’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I blink the images away before turning my head towards her. “Are you okay?” she asks so softly it makes me want to rip my own heart out.
The meeting room is as chaotic as ever. Carter is plugging in his laptop, Alex is stacking paperwork, voices pass through the door from how crowded the building is, and all my sweet wife is worried about is me.
I grip the arm rest of her chair and pull her over to me, not wanting any space between us.
We’ve had some interesting times in this room, and the resurfaced memory just a few moments ago makes me think back on them.
My favorite is when I laid her on top of the table and ate her like a five-course meal, but plenty of others come to mind as well.
“Yeah, baby girl. I’m okay.” I kiss her forehead and peer out of the door, watching my parents talk to the Andersons.
Because Mom and Dad live so far away, they weren’t affected, but the moment they heard Adrien’s podcast, they were on their way here.
Shockingly, my dad and Richard seem to be getting along pretty well, and I’m not sure I’ve seen my father be friendly with anyone in my entire life. Well, except for my mother, of course.
Zeke’s parents—or adoptive parents, I should say—are also here, but we set them up in one of the interrogation rooms to talk.
Today is weighing heavily on all of us, but none more than him.
It broke something in my soul to watch Zeke lay eyes on his mother, and then it crumbled to see Ashia’s reaction to their connection.
Zeke has told them about her, and they were supposed to meet for lunch one day this week, but this is definitely not how they anticipated they would meet each other.
I look back down at Ashia and take in her worried eyes, the overwhelming urge to hold her washing over me.
My hand instinctively finds her small belly, and I let that ground me instead of suffocating her with my grasp.
While I love feeling the slight swell beneath my hand, it eases my mind too, knowing that both of the people I hold closest to my heart are right where I can see and feel them.
I know the baby won’t be able to hear anything going on around us for at least the next month, but I still have the unwavering compulsion to shield it from everything about the dangers around us.
“What about you? Are you alright?” I ask her softly, knowing the answer for her emotional state, but I need to make sure she’s okay physically too.
Learning of Charlie’s passing, and then Emmett’s condition, hit her hard.
That, on top of Taylor’s death as well, has us both reeling with despair.
It’s important, now more than ever, that I keep her above water, though, and I’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish that.
I may have failed at a lot of things the past several months, but this won’t be one of them.
“Yeah, I’m alright,” she replies softly, and lays her hand over mine. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” She tilts her head to the side and studies my eyes, like she’s trying to figure out if I would lie to her.
Truthfully? No. I’m not ready to let a bunch of strangers into our domain and trust them enough to be around my men, but this disaster is proving to be more than we can handle, and Ashia had a good point of using them if they’re here and willing.
So, after a long discussion with Carter and Alex, we’re waiting for Kade and Satori to arrive.
No one else will be allowed in the building until we come to an agreement, and everyone goes through the same intake as the mercenaries.
Well, not the exact same, because I’m a paranoid mother fucker, but close to the same.
“No, I’m not ready, but you made a good point, and I trust you more than anyone or anything else. So, we’re going with your gut,” I respond truthfully. Her eyes soften slightly, and just when I’m about to lean in and kiss her, the door opens again. Only, it’s not who I expect.
Zeke walks through the door with blood shot eyes and a splotchy face, like he’s cried enough for two lifetimes.
“What are you doing, man? You good?”
He moves and shakes his head, looking like a lost puppy. My body aches from just seeing him in so much misery.
“Please don’t shut me out, I just… I need to do something.
I can’t sit around and dwell on it, I’ll drown…
” he says with a shaky tone laced with such honesty that it weakens the heavens.
I nod back to him, and Ashia pulls out the chair next to her, inviting him over with a small pat on the seat of it.
He shuffles over and sits just before reaching over to grab a tissue and wipe his eyes.
My sweet wife—his sister—squeezes his arm gently, and then loops hers through it, silently showing him that she’s there for him.
He gently pats her hand in return, showing his affection back in an awkward fashion, and then he clears his throat. “So, what are we doing?”