Chapter 12 Rex
TWELVE
REX
I’d drifted to sleep after my conversation with Nyx so her terror hit me on the raw, slapping me awake more than a fist to the face could’ve. I almost tightened my arms around her, but I knew from experience that made things worse.
Her scream was from the soul.
It was like poison infecting my blood.
Her fear ate into my skin, making me wish there were something I could do to help her. But she never allowed me to help. She didn’t let me goddamn in.
I rolled away from her—giving her space on the mattress sometimes helped—but as I watched her, as the scream was torn from her again, I knew this was going to be a bad one.
Her hands clawed, the fingers dragging down her arms as if she were trying to get someone away from her, but the worst thing of all was when she dug her nails into her biceps as if she were trying to tear at her skin.
Then, she started sobbing. At least that meant she stopped scratching herself. Her palms swiped against her cheeks, like she was trying to get something off her.
Watching her broke my fucking heart.
Decimated me in ways that not even grief could match.
My girl, my goddamn woman, the only one I was supposed to protect, hurting.
And there was fuck all I could do aside from make it worse.
I started to clamber off the bed, praying that she wouldn’t wake up before I managed to get off the mattress. If I did, then she wouldn’t freeze me out. Wouldn’t act like I was the one who’d attacked her…
Then she started sobbing and scratching at her arms again, and I couldn’t help my fucking self.
Like a moron, I grabbed her hands and pinned them to the sheets so she couldn’t hurt herself.
The second I did, she locked up, her entire body freezing, and she released a scream so purely petrified that I jerked back in response.
When her hands were free, she settled down, even curled onto her side, with heavy panting breaths that made me wonder if she was faking sleep.
I didn’t push my luck—I’d already made shit worse. That last scream would haunt me for the rest of my fucking life.
As I staggered out of the bedroom, pausing only to grab my cellphone, I pressed my head back against the door.
The nightmare still had her in its grip.
Hearing her whimpers and sobs told me she hadn’t been pretending to sleep.
Each one broke me apart as if Nyx were slicing through me like he did one of his prey.
Hadn’t I learned my lesson already?
In the early days, I’d tried to awaken her.
It did no good. Just made things worse. I knew that.
But leaving her to scream, leaving her to suffer made me feel like a piece of shit, like I was abandoning ship when she needed me the goddamn most.
It was selfishness that had me reaching out to make things better, but that wasn’t what she needed from me.
She just needed me to leave her alone.
As I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling the stubble on my jaw prickle against my palm, I knocked on the bedroom door, hoping that would wake her up before I loped down the stairs and headed into the kitchen to fix us some coffee when she was ready to face me.
She had one of those fancy-assed coffee makers that probably cost a couple of grand. I felt like a prissy fucker making myself a shot of espresso but it made the best coffee, so I set about creating a quadruple-shot because I needed the caffeine.
Once that was made, I slumped against the table and started sipping my drink.
That was when I saw the brown paper bag.
It had been sealed with packing tape so I knew Nyx and Giulia hadn’t been able to sneak a glance at the contents.
Curious, I leaned over and snagged it, then tore it open from the side.
I’d have smiled if it didn’t contain a baggy loaded with my father’s death—a pre-loaded syringe.
Merry fucking Christmas to me.
Staring at it, I realized there was a note inside.
It sucks when you have to be the one to make the hard choices.
I didn’t know Bear, and he’d probably be glad he never had to meet me if he had to deal with me, but no one deserves for their body to be their jail cell. Not if they don’t make that choice to stay alive themselves.
I know you’ll do what needs to be done, but I figured I’d make it easier on you to fulfill his request.
The situation with the Sparrows had me taking my eye off the ball but I looked into Harlow Dresden. He’s a good kid whose life Samuel Haune ruined. I’m making sure that the MC isn’t implicated in his death.
Consider me Santa Claus.
L.
Once I’d finished reading, I shook my head and reached for my cellphone.
Rex: You couldn’t have sent a text?
But I didn’t get a response.
Rex: Thank you, Lodestar. I’m in your debt.
After a couple minutes of staring at the pre-loaded syringe, flicking my gaze between that and the note, a soft tap sounded at the door.
A part of me expected it to be Rachel, although why the fuck she’d knock on her own goddamn door I didn’t know.
Grunting under my breath at my stupidity, I shot a look at the ceiling as if that would tell me if she was still asleep. I didn’t have to wonder for long—I heard the sound of the shower turning on. The pipes creaking in response.
Feeling ancient, my joints creaking as much as the pipes, I registered that the caffeine had yet to make that much of an effect on me as I headed for the door.
Seeing the strange kid standing on the veranda through the window, assuming it was this Harlow I’d been hearing so much about, I opened it with narrowed eyes.
He was a couple inches shorter than me, weedy but wiry too. The kind of kid who lived on his nerves but who packed a mean punch. Mav had been like that back in the day. Whenever he’d had to stand still, he’d bobbed on his feet as if he had too much energy to expend.
Harlow didn’t do that but he throbbed with intensity.
As our gazes collided, I asked, “What do you want?”
I didn’t need this today. Not any day, to be frank, yet fuck, it never rained but it poured.
I knew our hands were tied where he was concerned. If we wanted to figure out how he knew we were involved in Haune’s death, then we needed him to cooperate. But there were ways and means of making that happen.
Storing him in the Fridge was at the top of that list…
He had no idea that his words were what spared him. That tipped the balance.
“I want to make sure that no one’s brother or sister goes through what Jessie did.” He blinked as I leaned against the door jamb, lifting my arm so that it could take my weight. “I want to make sure that no one has to feel like I feel because they let their—” His voice choked.
“It’s one thing to want vengeance; it’s another to act on it.”
“No, it isn’t. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat without wanting to puke.
I can’t breathe without feeling like someone’s standing on my throat.
I let her down, man. I let my baby sister down.
” He sucked in a sharp breath. “I want to avenge her. I want to protect others like her. I want to do what the authorities won’t—”
“Come in.”
I stepped back to punctuate my statement, watching him jolt in surprise. But the relief that swarmed his expression had me tilting my gaze away because I knew he was going to cry, and the kid didn’t need me to see that.
Respect filled me, but I wasn’t the only one he’d have to convince.
I closed the door behind me then said, “Go straight ahead into the kitchen and take a seat at the table.”
He peered back at me, more nervous now than before.
Smart kid.
But he did as I asked and sat down beside the head of the table where my coffee cup was resting.
I watched him all the while then asked, “Why are you here? Today of all days?”
He licked his lips. “I-I know that Nyx—” Harlow frowned down at the table. “I didn’t expect to get through the gates when I first arrived at the compound. I figure it’s because you want to know what I know that I’m even this far—”
I sat down. “What do you know?”
“I wouldn’t tell the cops,” he muttered. “Wouldn’t help those fucking pigs—”
“What do you know, Harlow?”
He swallowed again but repeated, “I wouldn’t tell the cops.”
“Even if that’s the only reason we’d let you tag along?”
“Whether you help or don’t, I won’t change my mind.”
“You’ll just end up in jail faster, huh?”
His jaw tightened. “I’m willing to do that. I’d prefer not to because those bastards don’t deserve justice.”
I studied him. “What were you doing before Jessie died?”
“I was a student.”
“There’s a big age gap between you and Jessie, isn’t there?”
“Same dad, different moms. But I didn’t care about that. I loved her,” he said stubbornly, as if he’d had to justify the extent of his grief before.
“‘Course you did,” I said calmly, because if I was going to give him shit, it wouldn’t be about that. “What did you study?”
Everything about him locked up, turned tense. An oddly mutinous expression drifted over his features before he ground out, “Theology.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Theology?”
I was pretty sure with whatever Lodestar and Rachel had done to investigate him, they’d be able to tell me why he was being cagey, but his defiance keyed me in like nothing else could.
“At a seminary?”
He didn’t look at me. “I was there that night. That’s how I know who killed Haune.”
Pursing my lips, I put two and two together. “We got to him before you did?”
“Yes. I hated you for that.” He gulped. “Then I saw Haune when you lynched him, and I knew I would never have thought about doing any of that.”
“Did you call the cops?”
“Only once I was sure he died.”
“Did he speak with you?”
For the first time, a smile curled on his lips. “He did.” His gaze finally drifted to mine. “He begged me to help him.”
Mine narrowed as he maintained eye contact. “How did you know I’d be here today?”
He didn’t flinch. “Eavesdropped.”
“And what is it you think I can do for you?”
“Make your men accept me.”
I almost laughed as I snagged a banana from the fruit bowl on the table. As I unpeeled it, I drawled, “I can’t make them accept you.” That was on him. Before he could respond, I asked, “You a sadist, Harlow?”
He didn’t blink at the change of topic. “Once upon a time, I’d have said that I wasn’t.
Now I don’t know. Now I just know that…” A breath shuddered from his lips.
“These Sparrows—the headlines—I realized the cops are all dirty. If I want justice, if I want to give survivors peace, then I need to do it myself, but if I’m in a jail cell, then I can’t do anything either. I need to not get caught.”
His logic was sound.
Much as Nyx’s was, when he’d come to me after he’d blown up Kevin’s head with a shotgun he’d tampered with.
It was almost like twenty years hadn’t passed.
Almost like I was sixteen again, wondering what the fuck to do, knowing that I needed my dad’s help to make sure Nyx didn’t go to prison for what he’d done.
How ironic when my safety net wasn’t there anymore.
When, in fact, I was having to be my dad’s safety net…
“Will you help me?” Harlow pleaded.
The last thing I wanted was to eat, but I chowed down a good quarter of the banana before I reasoned, “This isn’t a charity.” His shoulders slumped before I continued, “We’re an MC. You’re a guy who wanted to be a priest. We’ll only help if you join us. Become a Prospect.
"I hate to be obvious but we’re not exactly on the right side of the law—whichever philosophy of law you aspire to. Our ways of life are…”
“Discordant.”
The word fired into the room like a bullet from a gun.
I cast Rachel a look, saw the shadows beneath her eyes and the exhaustion etched into her features, and I nodded. “Discordant.”
Harlow had tensed at Rachel’s presence, and it only amped up when she stepped inside. “So, you’re the man who wants to avenge his sister.”
He licked his lips. “I am.”
“You were a year away from taking your vows, Harlow. Are you certain you want to step down this path?”
Her voice was soft, gentler than I was used to hearing from her. Rachel was more likely to bark directives at me than offer me hope couched in a dulcet tone.
He, not unsurprisingly, responded to it. “I-I made my decision when I left the seminary. This isn’t about good vs. evil. This isn’t about sinning. This is about monsters.
"If it means my eternal soul has to burn in hell to make sure those monsters can’t torment another child, I’ll do it. I’ve made my peace with that.”
Rachel bit her lip as she shot me a glance. I half-expected for her to be cold with me, for there to be icicles in the connection between us, but instead, she looked… lost.
I got it.
I often felt like that around Nyx.
What was another burden to bear?
I heaved a sigh. “You become a Prospect. You patch in. You become a brother. Then we’ll revisit this situation.”
“How long will it take to patch in?” he rasped.
“Don’t think about the duration. Think about it as a time to see if you can cope with what we’re asking of you.”
“Like the seminary,” Rachel intoned. “Just with guns and drugs.”
Harlow tensed.
My lips twitched at her comment, but his tension didn’t escape my notice. “Harlow, once you become a Prospect, it’s a turning point. You can still leave, you can still back out, but if you report us to the cops, you will be dealt with. There’s no way out of that.”
His gaze was measured as it settled on mine. “I’d expect no less.”
“Prospects get all the worst jobs,” Rachel said softly as she drifted over to the table.
“She’s right. They do. Disgusting jobs as well. Thankless jobs. No pay. You’ll board at the clubhouse and we’ll feed you and you’ll have no bills but it’s… grim. Until you become a brother.”
“No grimmer than a jail cell. I know that’s where I’ll end up if I don’t have help.” He blinked. “I was a Stoic. Now, I’m a Pyrrhonist.”
Rachel sighed. “You won’t find ataraxia with this life choice, Harlow. You should really take a few days to think about your next steps.”
Ataraxia was a philosophical state of being—it was mental tranquility.
Along the journey of achieving ataraxia, epoche, or suspension of judgment, was one of the steps toward finding happiness in this philosophy.
“It’s better than the hell I’m living now but you’re right. I’ll think about my decision.”
As he uttered those words, words that would be fateful for him, I stared at my girl.
Her life was hell.
She’d made the best of it, or she was trying to, but she was as trapped as Harlow was.
Did she know that I’d do anything to free her from that?
Did she know that there was no price I wouldn’t pay to just give her a night’s sleep free from her memories?
Rachel's eyes swept down as if she heard the questions I hadn’t spoken aloud.
But much as I expected, she had no answer.