Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
COLTON
Ilost control.
For the first time since meeting Bailey, I stopped fighting and let the feelings I spent years burying call all the fucking shots, and I don't know what the hell I was thinking.
When I saw her standing there the other night, totally lost and captivated by my guys fucking, all bets were off, and I made a mistake.
I hurt her.
I saw it in her eyes when I told her that what we did could never happen again, and I hate myself for it.
I didn’t have much of a choice, though. The Elders don’t take kindly to members breaking direct orders, and I’ve seen and done enough over the past three years to know that they mean their fucking shit when it comes to their asinine traditions and loyalty.
They’d retaliate without a second thought as a reminder that they own us.
I’ve seen it happen before. Then we’d spend the rest of our miserable days living with the guilt that Bailey was hurt, or worse, because of us.
I shine my phone light over our latest assignment, an address scrawled across the crumpled parchment, written in blood, because using a fucking pen would be too normal. I roll my eyes in disgust at the Elders’ theatrics, way over the top as usual.
“This is the place,” I mutter, before stuffing the parchment in the jetted pocket of my leather jacket.
I look over at Roman and Jace, nothing more than silhouettes in the dark, their faces barely visible beneath the glow of the moonlight.
They stare up at the mansion across the street, jaws clenched, no doubt wishing they were literally anywhere else but here this early in the fucking morning.
Hell, I’m right there with them.
It’s barely past three, and the only thing colder than the fall air is the crowbar tucked against my spine, ready to send the poor bastard, sound asleep in his bed, to an early grave.
“Do you know who it is?” Jace asks, cracking his neck from side to side.
“Nope. Do we ever?” Roman answers, before pulling his skull mask down over his face.
He might look like he’s ready to do this, but lately his mind is elsewhere.
He’s still pissed about the other night.
Against Jace’s request to keep my fucking mouth shut, I told him about what happened with Bailey, only he’s not mad that we broke our only rule.
He’s pissed off that I jeopardized her safety, and mad that he wasn’t in on it, but he won’t say that part out loud.
“Are we ever going to talk about the pink elephant in the room, or are you just going to suffer in silence?” I ask, before pulling my own mask on. I silently wait for his response, but he says nothing. Roman doesn’t even flinch as he focuses on the big ass house ahead.
God, he’s a broody fucker when it comes to her.
He knows I won’t drop it, and I know that beneath his mask, he’s seething.
“Baby,” I say, my voice low, and I take a step closer to him and reach out to hold his hand. He takes it, tightly wrapping his fingers around mine, but still, he doesn't look at me. I know him better than anyone, and right now, he's caught up in his own head.
“Now is not the time, Cole.”
“Don't give me that shit, Roman. You can pretend your ass off to your father, but you can't pretend with Jace and me. Look, I know it was reckless, okay. Touching her like that. Believe me, I know. I’ve been fucking kicking myself for it ever since because we still can’t have her. Not the way we want, and certainly not the way she deserves. But I couldn’t fucking help it.
I swear to God I can still feel her, smell her on my fingers, and baby, she's not going away. She’s fucking burned into me, into us, and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t do it again if I had half the chance. There has to be a way—”
“There is no fucking way. Now, can we just get this over with? I'd like to go to bed.”
Wow.
My chest tightens, completely hollowed out by his cold, clipped words, and I instinctively take a step back, removing my hand from his.
“You’re right,” I murmur, the words barely escaping through my tight throat.
“Colton, baby. Fuck. Look, I’m sorry, okay.
I just… I can’t live in a world where she doesn’t exist. Is that what you want to hear?
I know it, Jace knows it—you know it. Cole, they’ll kill her.
It can’t happen. We, us, can’t happen.” I don’t miss the tortured edge in his voice, like he’s one breath away from breaking, and I decide to let it go.
He’s right about all of it, and I feel like a jackass.
“What if I told you that there might be a way we could all have her?” My brows dip in confusion as I look over at Jace, watching us quietly, picking at the edges of the mask in his hand.
“What are you talking about?” Roman asks, but the edge he had in his voice before is missing, and his mood has completely shifted.
“Uhh, you gonna tell the class?” I reply sarcastically after a long pause, and I watch as Roman turns to face Jace. His shoulders are tight, and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips because whether he likes it or not, he wants our girl. We all do.
“You're probably not gonna like it, but something tells me that our little darling will,” Jace says, his eyes studying Roman, and for a moment, it’s like Roman might actually consider whatever Jace’s plan is.
“Spit it out, love, clock’s ticking,” I mutter, a little desperate and impatient, but mostly because we can’t keep standing out here in the street like this.
The early risers will most likely start jogging soon, and we’d blow this whole fucking assignment, and I’d rather not deal with the Elders if I can help it.
“She and her friends are going tonight,” Jace finally says, and I let out a groan, rolling my eyes because I think I know where this is going.
Today is Halloween, and each year, someone throws a big ass party they call Fright Night down at the old, abandoned warehouse out of town.
We’ve gone every year since the start of college, but it’s always the same.
Can’t say I’m thrilled about standing around a dilapidated warehouse surrounded by a bunch of fucking pansies dressed in low-budget costumes talking about the same crap they always do.
Football and hooking up with women.
There is, and always will be, one woman for us, and outside of Jace and Roman, I am not interested in fucking another guy.
I have everything I need right here, well, everything except for Bailey.
Which, now that I think about it, parties aren’t usually Bailey’s scene, despite her pink-haired, grungy, bad-girl aesthetic.
One of the many things about her that drew me in.
So, I push my bullshit aside and decide to entertain the idea that if she’s going, you best fucking believe that I’m going too.
“You’re unbelievable,” Roman murmurs, shaking his head at Jace, and I feel like I’m missing something.
“What’s unbelievable? What did I miss?”
“We could wear costumes and be whoever the fuck we want to be without Bailey, or anyone else knowing it's us,” Jace adds, and I can feel the air shift between us as Roman rips his mask off, glaring daggers at him.
“You have lost your fucking mind!” Roman whisper yells, running a hand through his dark, disheveled hair.
“We could all be buried balls deep in her sweet pussy by sundown tonight if you’d just sort your fucking shit out,” Jace bites back, and I stare at them wide-eyed, my mind racing a mile a minute as I process what he’s actually suggesting.
“You’re forgetting who controls us, Jace. We’ve seen how this shit ends, time and time again. If it’s not The Order, it’s Keith,” Roman chokes out his father’s name like it’s acid on his tongue, his tone shaky and defeated, and fuck if it doesn’t squeeze the breath right out of me.
Godfuckingdamnit.
I hate seeing him like this.
Roman has tortured himself for the past three years now, haunted by the guilt of pulling us into this fucked up society.
It isn’t like that, though. Not for me. I would follow Roman and Jace to the end of the fucking earth, because no hell scares me more than a life where I don’t get to call them mine.
We signed the possibility of having a somewhat normal life away in blood, and I’d do it again, and again for him, without a second thought.
I take a couple of steps forward until Roman is directly in front of me.
I pull my mask off and look him in the eyes, so fucking blue, even with his features hidden in the dark.
I raise my hand and press it against his face, and he leans into it before I crash my mouth to his, craving the reckless intimacy that only he can give.
He needs to know that everything is okay, that when his thoughts get too loud, we’re still here. No matter what comes, it's us and him.
Always.
He kisses me back with a hunger I feel all the way to my bones, his wet tongue exploring mine as he effortlessly takes charge.
He might bottom for Jace, but Roman is all about dominance with me, and I fucking love it. I pull away slightly, resting my forehead against his, our eyes locked, and I can see the war he's fighting within them start to fade, bringing him back to what's most important.
“What is life without happiness, baby? If you keep torturing yourself for all that you think you can’t have, you’ll forget to appreciate all that you do.
And right now, you have the chance to finally claim what is ours, without prying eyes.
It’s time, Ro. You’re allowed to be happy.
” I let my hand drift to the place on his chest, right above his heart.
The whole time, his eyes never leave mine.
Silence stretches between us, but I can feel his heart race beneath my palm.
“Okay,” he says after a beat, his voice husky and soft, and the night itself would not be enough to hide the smile covering my face right now.
“Yeah?” I ask because you can’t be too sure with him sometimes. Not with his father’s voice haunting him every minute of the fucking day.
“Yes. But we need to be careful,” Roman says, his brows knitting together, as if he’s already looking for a way out of it. Jace chooses this moment to approach us, his hands settling on each of our shoulders, and somehow, his connection was everything we needed.
“Let’s get this shit over with before the sun rises. If we’re quick, we might even have time to get some beauty sleep. We can’t have our gloomy prince over here looking like hell for our little darling now, can we?” Jace says teasingly, which provokes a slight shove from Roman.
“Shut the fuck up. She won’t even know it’s us, so looks don’t fucking matter.”
“He’s got you there, love,” I add, putting my mask back in place before we quietly cross the street and break into the poor fucker’s home to send him to meet his maker. Not for justice or vengeance, but because we were told to. No more, no less, no questions.