Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
SIMON
“Idon’t fucking need this.” Swatting at Oren’s hand, I ripped the bandage from my head, eyes sunken and void of life. They’d arrived minutes after I’d woken up, Liam’s presence completely gone.
“Like hell you don’t. And if you’re going to be pissed at me, that’s fine, I understand, but stop fucking moving,” Oren spat, unraveling more gauze.
“You do realize,” Thorne commented from where he stood propped against the door frame, “that whining won’t get him back, right?”
“Whining? You think I’m fucking whining?” Pushing Oren away with a shove that sent his back cracking into the chair opposite mine, I snarled. “Liam is gone, and we’re sitting here!”
His eyes swept down my frame. “You want to charge into battle with a concussion and no leg? I mean, hell, by all means, go for it, O’Neill.”
“Yeah, I do, because I would do anything… anything…” My voice cracked as I bit my cheek, iron flooding my mouth.
“If you’re curious, ask Oren what I did to Stefan’s men.” Kicking himself from the wall, Thorne walked toward me. “I am just as determined to get Liam back, Simon. Believe me.”
Wiping away the moisture that seemed to keep falling when I thought of him, I inhaled sharply, but it didn’t fill my lungs. “He’s… He’s being tortured and… and I’m… I couldn’t… I couldn’t—”
Thorne pulled me from where I sat, wrapping me in a tight embrace. “I’m a stubborn prick, Simon, and when I say we are getting Liam back, I fucking mean it.”
Clawing at his back, I fell into my friend’s arms, needing something to ground me before I flooded into total despair. I couldn’t get his stare out of my mind. Liam’s fear burned into my irises as he looked at me… looked at me as if I could save him.
“I-I thought… I thought I could protect him.” Another heave, filled with regret and sorrow, billowed from me. “I failed. I failed. God, I failed.”
“You did not fail, Simon. You did everything you could.” Rubbing circles on my back, Thorne hugged me tighter.
“Stefan is a dangerous man. In fact, calling him as such would be an understatement. The organization he’s set up, the trafficking routes he runs, the corruption he bathes himself in?
I’m not even sure I could oppose him alone. ”
“Liam… He looked at me as… as if I could help. But… But it took everything to just fucking stand!”
Hands curling around my arms, he forced me away from him, his honeyed gaze meeting mine. “He was not looking at you like that, I can fucking guarantee it, because he has told me time and time again how you’ve already saved him, Simon.”
“How?” I shouted, pointing at my thigh, my prosthetic resting on the chair next to Oren. “If I… If I had all of me, I could’ve stopped him.”
Loosening his hold on one tricep, he flicked the center of my chest. “All of you? All of you is here. In your fucking heart, Simon.”
Sucking in a breath, I shook my head. “I couldn’t even get out of bed. And… And it took so goddamn long to make it to the hallway—”
“Wait, you made it to the hallway but couldn’t get out of bed?” Thorne craned his head to the side, his brows raising.
“God, figure of expression—”
“Speech,” he corrected. “Figure of speech.”
“You… You are—”
“Irritating at times? Yes. But also correct? Yes,” Oren chimed in, smiling slightly as he shifted my prosthetic leg onto his lap. “I don’t know about you, but if you made it all the way to the hallway for Liam, he knew, Simon.”
“See, even my fiancé understands.”
Rolling my eyes, the corner of my lip lifted. “That’s because he’s ingrained in your blood. Probably from all the fucking.”
“Or because he believes in you as much as your boyfriend does,” Thorne countered, his shoulders rising with indifference. “It would be a crazy concept to, maybe, believe in your boyfriend’s love and admiration for you for once.”
“I do… I know he loves me, more than I think I deserve, but… but it also hurts physically.” Tugging at my shirt, the wadded fabric released as I uncurled my fingers. “I just… just want him back, and I want Stefan dead.”
“And we will get him back, Simon. That is not just a promise. But a fucking vow.”
Jaw feathering, I nodded. It wouldn’t suit me to wallow when Liam needed me, needed us, and God, I would do fucking anything to bring him back home.
“I believe you,” I whispered, glancing between him and Oren. “I trust you both.”
“Good. Kinda weird if the man reattaching your leg wasn’t someone you trusted,” Oren blurted. “But… I have a question.”
“For… For me?”
He shook his head, jerking his thumb to his fiancé. “Nope. For the cute, big guy.”
Thorne helped me back into the chair I’d occupied minutes before. “Yes, dove?”
“Who exactly is this Stefan? I know we talked about it a little at that, uh, fun dinner, but why Liam? Why the fixation?”
Thorne sighed heavily, running a hand down his face.
“Stefan runs a lot of the bigger operations within the black market, as well as a handful of trafficking rings. He purchases children at a young age and works to train them into weapons to do his bidding. Liam was once that for him, until Stefan became even more twisted and began using Liam for his own… means.”
My hands clenched against my thighs as Oren slapped the liner onto my skin, massaging it gently before handing me my sock. Fitting it over the limb, I tugged upward, covering the silicone, and an immense ache settled in my chest. Liam always did it for me, but this… this time he wasn’t here either.
“That’s fucking disgusting,” Oren spat, adjusting the hemline of the fabric.
“Since three,” I muttered under my breath. “He… He’s suffered since the age of three, and now he’s back in that man’s clutches.”
Running his tongue across his teeth, Thorne shook his head. “The things he did to Liam… I can’t even get myself to repeat. The abuse, the sexual trauma, the manipulation… It is indescribable.”
Nausea bubbled in my gut, but I shoved it down as I inserted my limb into the prosthetic socket. Continuing until I couldn’t, I locked it, tightening the strap on the side to fit snugly. It was uncomfortable, but it allowed me the freedom of walking, something I thought I might never do again.
“And this monster worked with my father behind the scenes, right?”
Thorne nodded. “Yes. He was also playing another hand with the Mafia, with his now ex-best friend, who found out about the depth of his apathy and vileness just after Andrew Valens passed.”
“The…” Oren snapped, tongue sticking out as he glanced at the ceiling. “Lebanese was his name?”
Huffing out a chuckle, his other half shook his head. “Levander, dove. His name is Levander.”
“Oh, gotcha. Lavender.”
“Oh, Christ, you’re going to get yourself killed when you meet him.”
“What?” Oren laughed, raising his shoulders in a casual shrug. “My bad.”
Stifling the chuckle that threatened to spill from my lips, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my thighs. “So, this is the man you mentioned at the diner? The… Mafia connection?”
“Yes, Levander Vescari. He’s the head of the entire Italian Mafia… including overseas operations.”
I choked on my saliva. “The entire Italian Mafia?”
He merely nodded.
“So he is familiar with Lebanese,” Oren added, tapping his chin with his pointer finger.
Audibly facepalming, Thorne groaned. “I would recommend you lose the Lavender and Lebanese jokes, unless you really wish to lose your head.”
“I’m cordial. I’ll be completely fine.”
“Cordial doesn’t cut it when you’re dealing with men like him, dove.”
Cutting off their banter, my tongue darted out to swipe against my bottom lip. “When are we meeting with him?”
“First thing tomorrow morning.” Drumming his fingers on the counter, he corrected himself. “Well, I guess first thing today.”
“Okay.”
“Wonderful. Should I bring anything, you know, as a gift?” Oren scratched the side of his head. “Well… do you even bring gifts to the Mafia?”
“No,” Thorne groaned, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Bring your best behavior, because the last thing I want to deal with is going head-to-head with him when his men are the ones currently cleaning up our house.”
“Not even like a pastry?”
“Oren.”
“Okay!” Holding up his hands in surrender, he frowned. “Just seems wrong. Manners and all, but I’ll be good.”
Chuckling, I pressed my palms into my thighs as I stood, taking a moment to adjust to the mechanical device pushing against my skin.
“Well, anyone want breakfast before we deal with Mafia shit?”
Oren raised his hand. “Omelet would be amazing.”
“Best I can do is eggs, scrambled. Maybe cheese added, if you want to be fancy,” I said with a wink.
“I’ll take a ‘best I can do,’” Thorne chuckled, slipping into one of the dining chairs.
With them bickering away, I slipped into the mundane task of cooking, keeping myself busy as best I could. We were getting ready to meet the Italian Mafia, and while it was highly dangerous, if it meant rescuing Liam, I didn’t care.
Sunshine, I’m coming. I fucking promise.