Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
LIAM
Shoving the door to the men’s restroom open, my footsteps drummed against the tile as I made my way to a stall. Practically taking it off its hinges, I barely made it inside before I collapsed on my knees, purging my stomach’s minimal contents.
Child trafficking. We served beneath a man responsible for fucking child trafficking.
I heaved until nothing remained, my head resting on my hands as I braced them against the toilet. We had picked a restaurant whose bathrooms stayed nearly pristine, which meant my vomit was now polluting the overarching floral undertones that hung in the air.
“Fuck,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Pull yourself together, Liam. You’re fine. Everything is fine.”
This was the side of me I didn’t want them to see.
After Simon’s accident, they’d all treated me differently, as if I were a fragile doll that would easily break beneath the pressure of reality.
They no longer saw me as a soldier who’d earned his position but as someone weak because of how much I cared.
My past was the furthest thing from light, and because of it, I was the hardest to break. That all happened to me by the age of eight. After that? It was a mask for survival, a lightheartedness I wore to conceal the demons lurking beneath.
Simon didn’t know.
Oren didn’t know.
But Thorne? Thorne did.
And now he was asking me to join in arms to combat the very thing I’d been trying to escape my entire life, as if he didn’t understand the implications it left behind.
While my “buyer” hadn’t left many physical scars on my body, none that could’ve been deciphered outside of mere combat wounds, the mental ones were gaping wounds that still festered—wounds that still kept me up at night and robbed me of my sanity with each passing day.
Escaping a child-trafficking ring was the most considerable feat of my fucking life, and now I was being asked to step back into one?
My breath hitched as I shook my head, trying to stifle my cries.
Trailing my fingers across my arm, I mimicked a stroke Simon often offered me, a tenderness that I craved at this moment.
When I’d asked for reprieve, he’d looked at me with understanding, with an assumption that I merely needed to run to the restroom for the mundane implications of being human.
He’d gazed past the truth in my irises. He hadn’t seen me.
Again.
Flushing the toilet, I pushed myself to stand. With one leveling sigh, I unlocked my selected stall and slipped out into the openness. Approaching the perfectly spaced mirrors, I avoided my reflection as I’d always done, turning on the faucet with a simple flick.
My palm settled against the soap dispenser as I pumped a generous amount into my hand, slipping into a state of dissociation I knew was dangerous.
With the realization, I attempted to focus on the simple task of scrubbing my skin.
I needed to rid myself of the grime that tainted my essence, not from the bathroom, but from my past.
The door opened, and I flinched instinctively, footsteps echoing on tile as that familiar, deepened timbre rang through. “Liam… Are you okay?”
“Huh?” I questioned, blinking a handful of times as I brought myself back from wherever my mind wandered. “Oh. Uh, yeah. I’m good. I’m just finishing up.”
Hand pressing against my lower back, he rubbed it in circular motions. “Hey, whatever it is, I’m here for you.”
“I know. I think I just got a bit overstimulated, is all.” Offering him a half-hearted smile, I turned the sink off before snatching a paper towel from the dispenser. “We probably shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
Bringing his palm up my back to my neck, he massaged the tender flesh. “They’ll be okay. I know that look, Liam.”
“I’m fine, Simon. Truly.”
Narrowing his eyes, he shifted to position himself in front of me. “We can talk about it later then.” Brushing his fingers across my arm the way I liked it, he dipped his chin. “And if it gets too much, we can leave. We don’t have to stay, okay?”
“Okay, but I’m fine. I promise.”
“Mmm, mhm,” he muttered, but that hesitancy remained locked in his irises. “Come on. Let’s go back.”
My fingers slipped between his, and I followed him out of the bathroom, attempting to keep my attention fixated on him instead of wandering to the abysmal depths I’d kept hidden for decades.
He navigated the passing patrons and servers, making their way to their tables with ease, positioning me behind him so I didn’t have to take the brunt of the interactions.
It was something I appreciated more than he realized, considering my social anxiety and likely slew of other undiagnosed issues.
Coming to the table, he guided me around his frame, and my eyes met Thorne’s.
His honeyed gaze wavered slightly, the corner of his lip twitching with something I immediately recognized—an apology.
His subtle, unspoken offering eased some of the weight I carried, but it would never rid me of it.
It was something I feared I’d live with for the rest of my life.
“Welcome back.”
“Yeah, welcome back, Liam.” Oren smiled, attempting to brighten my mood, but even sunshine couldn’t reach the darkest of shadows.
Slipping back into the booth, I offered both of them a mirrored expression of acknowledgment. “Hopefully, I didn’t miss much?”
“Nope! Nothing but Thorne discussing his man purse, and how delighted he would be to carry it out of this diner for me.”
“Pushing it, dove. Pushing it.”
“It’s just a satchel,” he mumbled, glancing out the window to the bustling life of Staten Island beyond.
“Look, can we continue without the images?” Simon closed the manila folder and slid it across the table to Thorne. “I… think the general idea is more than clear.”
Exhaling, Thorne snatched the file Simon had referenced without question, grabbing two others. Shoving them back into the bag, only one remained on the table. Various colored tabs were visible, poking out just enough for us to see, and hinting at our prior commander’s meticulous nature.
“What I was speaking to your lovely other half about while you were gone encompasses an idea that Oren and I came up with. To help others.”
“Brilliant idea, and I think it’ll do a lot of good,” Oren added. “At least to me, it’s a purpose to fall into. A… A means to correct what my father did, what his influence continues to do.”
“It gives a cause to fight for. Not only to bring light to all of Valens’ corruption and how much it has polluted the ranks, but to rescue those kids, Liam.”
Thorne’s statement was pointed in a way that wouldn’t cue in the others, but also held an underlying intention that I’d never be able to thank him enough for.
He was starting an organization to help free children from the situations I once faced.
It was a push to give back, but in the most influential way, a way he knew would mean the world to me, without outing my past and the trauma I experienced.
“Okay,” I whispered before clearing my throat. Nodding once, I looked between them. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
“You sure?”
Simon brushed his fingers across my thigh, the touch so feathery I almost missed it.
Resting his chin on his closed fist, there was resistance in those hazel irises before he answered Thorne’s proposition.
He was always observing my non-verbal communications, aware of the slightest shift, which made it difficult to hide even a subtle emotion.
Attuned to my character, he wielded it as ultimate power.
“Yes,” I replied. “I’m sure. We were imprisoned by Valens for too long, and I think it’s time we did something bigger than him.”
“Then I’m down to fuck up some loose ass pussies,” Simon responded, leaning into my side. “What’s the first thing you need from us specifically?”
“We are still figuring out the company structure.” Thorne drummed his knuckles against the table. “I have an in with a potential Mafia organization that’s been working to dismantle underground operations that run these rings, as well as other black market-based activities.”
“The Mafia?” Simon blurted above the clinking of utensils and the quiet chatter of customers. Rubbing his neck, he pressed his pointer finger into the counter. “Will they interfere further? While I’m all for risk, if it’s a potential danger to either of us, I’d prefer treading with caution—”
Without warning, Thorne’s fingers slipped around the knife to his right, and within a blink, it burrowed into the wood—millimeters from Simon’s finger. “If you could keep your fucking voice down, that would be dandy.”
“Oh, apologies for letting it surprise me.”
“You want to test my patience today, O’Neil?”
Sliding away from the sharpened teeth, it was a minuscule waver of his irises that hinted at his fear of our previous commander. Despite time apart, he hadn’t forgotten the brutality of our leader or how easily he could subdue a man.
“It was an accident,” Oren added, curling his fingers around his wrist. “Though, please keep your tone lowered, because this is off the record. There’s too much at stake for this to leak.”
“Understood,” Simon answered in that timbre, the one I hadn’t heard since our time in the military, and yet, Thorne persisted.
“Not only is what we are about to do illegal, but it is dangerous. With the corruption that runs New York, we do not know who is a friend and who is a foe. I’d prefer to keep my life instead of being sniped from a distance because of my inability to watch my tongue.”
Loosening the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, I looked at Thorne. “Illegal?”
“We will be partnering.”
“Partnering?” Simon shifted uncomfortably, as if someone was poking his side with a hot iron rod.
Nodding, Thorne ran his tongue over his teeth. “With the Mafia.”
“Fucking hell,” Simon breathed. “Well, I trust you both. If this is the best way to help, I’m happy to proceed. It’ll be good to add ‘illegal activities’ to my non-existent resume.”
My jaw clenched as I nudged him with my elbow, but my smile was undeniable. “We’ve all almost died together, so why not keep testing our luck, right?”
“What’s one more limb to lose? Then I’d finally be, hell, part cyborg like that movie… God, what was it?”
“Oh shut up,” Thorne groaned. “If I have any say, no one will get hurt. And based on the information I’ve been provided about this Mafia head, I have no doubt we will be beyond successful in our endeavors.”