Chapter Four
Drew
“Talk to her then, instead of moping around here. More specifically, moping around at my table,” said Rick.
He’d unwittingly told him about the kiss with Alana, but he liked him.
Everyone liked Rick. He was easy to talk to.
He’d been one of the first people to welcome him into the main fold, and then talked his ear off about science shit for a good forty-five minutes and Drew wondered where he could find his off switch, but he was a good guy, a decent guy.
Which is why he should listen to his advice, right?
“We’re friends. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Rick took a glug of his drink, the lights flashing in his glasses. “Right, except it clearly does.”
“How’s your love life going, Rick?” he asked, turning the tables on him.
“You sound like my mom and sister,” he muttered bitterly.
Drew laughed, slapping him on the back. Fine, he’d talk to her, if only to air out whatever this was between them.
The second he smelled it, his hackles raised. He was at her office door, so why could he smell wood and musk and lemon? The familiarity of it washed over him; of the man and mentor, standing over him knife in hand, scarring him, marking him for life.
“You’re mine now. See? It was always going to end this way.”
He pushed the door open so violently it shook on its hinges, narrowly missing Alana and ... him.
The sight of him standing over her, a sickly smile on his face ... it took everything in him not to drive a knife through him, through his black heart.
He refused to give him the satisfaction. He knew he was here. He’d found him.
He walked to Alana, tugging on her cool hand, so that she stood with him on the other side of the office. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking her over. She was fine, he reassured himself. She was shaking, but that was to be expected. People usually did around Max. He had a talent for it.
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice unsteady. “Drew, what’s going on?”
Yes, what was going on? How to explain?
A dark chuckle filled the room. “How strange it is for me to hear you called Drew. It suits you, though, Michael. Long time no see. Now, Alana, love, would you mind giving us a minute?”
Alana wriggled out of his grasp. “Why did he call you Michael?”
Max moved from the wall he was leaning on. “Slip of the tongue, darling, speaking of, I’ll cut yours out unless you leave.”
Drew turned to Alana, ready to comfort her, but there was only blazing fury in her eyes. It gave him back some of his own. Reminded him of it, of who he once was.
“I’d like to see you try,” he said, cocking his head to the side, letting Max see the anger that lay there. The protectiveness ... for her. It was too late. Max could see it, so he may as well make it fucking clear.
“That’s my boy. Fine, she can stay. This won’t take long, I’ve just come to collect what belongs to me, and you fall into that category, Michael. You have a debt to pay, to work off, and I’m going to need you to come back to us.”
“He goes nowhere with you.”
His heart leaped into his throat. She didn’t fully know who she was dealing with. He took her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed it back, a silent conversation passing between them.
“No,” he said, as firmly as he could, knowing full well he’d go back if they threatened Alana.
“Your little girlfriend can come too, if that’s what you’re so worried about.
But,” he took a few steps toward them, “I don’t need to remind you of the consequences of those who betray me, and you betrayed me by leaving.
I’m letting you off lightly, you little rat.
You have one week to get your affairs in order.
” Max stroked his finger along his scar.
He gritted his teeth to stop himself from wincing, from flinching.
“Don’t forget who you kneel to, who marked you. ”
He’d once vowed to himself that he would never kneel again. The thought of it, of him, of his early twenties finally taking his life back, the happiness he felt all came crashing down around him. The only thing holding him up now was the woman next to him, stroking her thumb over his palm.
Max stalked to the door before turning back. “Did you know your parents still live in the same house?” He clicked his tongue. “Some people just don’t know when it’s time to move on ... they keep hoping little Michael will return to them. Don’t make me return your head.”
The closing of the door brought him back to the present.
Alana dropped his hand and began frantically speaking to the security guards, warning them of what had just happened.
And then she was pacing, and pacing, and pacing.
He caught her in his arms. She threw herself out of them just as quickly. Tears were filling her eyes.
“Michael?” she whispered.
The sound of his true name in her mouth sent shivers up his spine.
He shook his head. “Michael is dead.”
“But y-you’re Michael? That’s your real name. You changed it to Drew because you’re running from Max and his crew?”
He thanked a deity he didn’t believe in that he didn’t have to say all this out loud. But he knew Alana. The questions were coming. He braced himself.
“What happened? Why did you get involved with them in the first place?”
His legs felt dead. He sank into one of the chairs. Alana made to go to her chair, but then decided against it, taking the one across from him.
“I was lost, and Max found me. He has a way of making you feel special, and breaks you down slowly, like an art form. I got out ... but not before doing things I regret, and having things done to me that I regret.”
She could barely look him in the eye, shaking her head, all the while tears were spilling down her cheeks. This was him. He was doing this to her.
Even though he had no right, he reached and swept them away with his thumb.
“What have you brought to my doorstep?” she asked, her eyes pleading.
“It doesn’t matter, I’ll go back to them, and this will all become a distant memory.”
I’ll become a distant memory, he added internally.
He couldn’t stomach it. He stood, until her fingers curled around his hand.
“No.” The sheer force of the word startled him. He’d never heard her speak so loudly, so clearly.
“No, you will not.” Her eyes blazed into his own.
“I know what hardship is. I know how difficult it is to want to change, to work yourself out of the gutter, from nothing into something.” She stood, her neck craning to look him in the eyes.
“I’m so pissed at you, but I will not let you go back to him. You do not kneel.”
He gritted his teeth. He wanted to take her fire and consume it, let himself be consumed by her. “Neither do you,” he said.
She lifted her chin. “That settles it, then. We have one week to fix this mess of yours.” Her finger traced his scar, hesitantly, reverently, replacing the feeling of disgust Max had put there. It was like she knew; she knew that he needed the touch of someone he...
Someone he what? He questioned himself. Loved? No. That couldn’t be brought into the mix. She was already in danger. If he were in love with her, he may as well sign her death warrant. He took a step back out of her touch, ignoring the look of hurt that flashed in her hazel eyes.