43. Artemis
CHAPTER 43
Artemis
S omething’s wrong.
Scott’s been gone for too long. He’s not answering his phone. And the fact he’s been away from Athena for this length of time is… troubling at best.
Athena’s gone back to bed. It’s early, but she’s been through a lot today, and if sleep helps get her through another day, then she can sleep as much as she wants to.
I pull my shoes on. Apollo quirks a brow at me, and I widen my eyes. As though he’s dialing into our twin link, he nods his head. We don’t want to rouse Ares. He’s running hot, and even the slightest thing could tip him over the edge.
Trying to sneak away undetected, I simply nod at Apollo and turn to the door. I turn the handle, pull it open, and almost walk into barely standing up, Scott.
He stumbles into the apartment, there’s blood all over his clothes, a sweep of blood across his cheek, and he looks like he’s just run a marathon.
It takes us all of a fraction of a second to figure out what he’s done. Apollo and Ares jump to their feet.
“Is he still breathing?” The question comes from Apollo. Without asking, I know his reasoning. Our actions would be wildly different depending on which way his answer falls.
Do we need clean up for a body? Or do we need damage control?
Scott’s face is contorted in agony as he stares at his bloodied hands. He may be an enforcer, a tough guy on the team, but he’s not naturally violent. And given his family’s history, he’s always strived to stay on the right side of the law.
He’s muttering to himself, something about not deserving her, about how he was always destined to follow the family path to jail. He’s crying, his tears slithering down his cheeks weaving a path through the drying glob of Brock’s blood.
I assume it’s Brock’s, it could be the other guy, but something in my gut tells me Scott nailed Brock.
“Look at me,” I snap to get his attention. “Whatever you did, we’ll handle it. Do you understand me?”
He shakes his head. “I need to turn myself in. I need to go to jail. I need to.”
Ares surges forward, darting into the kitchen. He returns with a trash bag, opens it and holds it out to our friend, our brother, who’s still crying and shaking.
Apollo’s already on his phone, a hundred bucks says he’s messaging one of our lawyers to get their asses over here now.
Scott shakes his head at Ares. “I need to be punished for what I did. You can’t cover for me. You can’t.” He’s a fucking mess, breaking in front of us, and my heart cracks.
Standing in front of us in this moment, he seems to think we’ll judge him or be angry at him for what he did. I open my mouth to set the record straight, but Ares beats me to it.
“Hermano, you did what all three of us have wanted to do for days. Whether he’s alive or dead, none of us cares.” His voice is dripping with a cold, scathing hatred. “And you’re going to let us help you.”
“You can’t help me.” Scott holds his hands up, showing us his bruising knuckles. “I don’t deserve your help. I’m just like my thug cousins. I couldn’t help it. I just… He said…” He sniffs then wipes his nose. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have snapped. She didn’t want me to snap. I said I wouldn’t. We all said we wouldn’t.” He’s holding his head in his hands, truly cut up about what he’s done. But all I feel for him is gratitude that he’s done something we’ve all wanted to do.
Call it darkness, call it some kind of sinister evil lurking inside, or call it human nature, but when someone harms someone so close to me in the way those cabróns hurt my sister? You better believe I don’t just want them to suffer, I want to make them suffer.
It’s unhealthy, it’s unreasonable, but wanting to watch him take his last breath and knowing it was me who did it in revenge for my sister is something that’s flashed in my dreams for the last few nights.
I know I’m fucked up; we all are. And we are all going to need extensive therapy to get through this, but I’m not letting Scott go down for whatever the fuck he just did.
None of us are.