Chapter 18
The whiskey burns a familiar path down my throat, numbing from the inside out. It’s been three days since I kicked Gabriel out of my apartment. Three days of silence where he hasn’t shown up at Foundation or popped up at the Blue Note, or anywhere in between.
Considering how many times I’ve told the man to leave me alone, I shouldn’t feel so conflicted over him now choosing to listen. If he’d shown up in front of me again, at least I’d have the satisfaction of punching his pretty face.
Anger would be better than this constant numbness.
My reflection stares up at me from the amber liquid in my glass, and I try to remember when the emptiness inside began to show.
Ghost stops by to refill my glass without a word before moving on to another customer. Even he has the sense not to linger. I’m such terrible company right now that not even Rowan wants to be near me.
“Didn’t expect to find you drowning your sorrows in public.”
My head snaps up as Jade slides onto the stool beside me, his black hair falling across his forehead. Blue eyes pierce through the curtain of hair, sharp with amusement and another emotion harder to name.
“How the fuck did you find me?” My grip tightens around my glass. “Did Gabriel tell the whole fucking family about the Blue Note?”
Jade snorts, tossing his hair back. “Calm down. Your precious lounge remains your secret as far as the Rockfords are concerned.”
“So how are you sitting here?”
“I have my ways of digging up information that doesn’t involve asking the family.” He signals to Ghost with two fingers. “Whiskey, neat.”
My teeth grind together. “What ways?”
Jade leans closer. “I followed you. Which, by the way, wasn’t hard. For someone with a quarter-million-dollar bounty on his head, you pay shit attention to your surroundings.”
“Fuck off.” I drain my glass, the burn barely registering anymore.
“Aww, did I hurt your feelings?” Jade grins, all teeth and no warmth. “And here I thought we were besties.”
Ghost places a glass in front of Jade. Jade acknowledges him with a brief murmur, his attention locked on me. Before I can respond, a new presence looms on Jade’s other side.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty thing.” Rowan’s gravelly voice cuts between us as he leans on the bar. “Don’t think I’ve seen you in our establishment before.”
Jade stiffens beside me, his hand disappearing beneath the bar. It’s a familiar motion, one that ends with a knife in his grip.
“Is this one of your friends?” Jade asks me without acknowledging Rowan.
I grunt an affirmative as Rowan assesses Jade with interest.
“Make him leave before I start stabbing,” Jade says, still calm despite the threat.
Rowan’s eyebrows shoot up, and he catches my eye over Jade’s head. “Feisty one, isn’t he? The bloodthirsty ones are always the best.”
I jerk my head toward the back of the bar. “Give us some space.”
A flicker of surprise crosses Rowan’s face before he shrugs and pushes off the bar. “Call if you need anything. And I mean anything.” He directs this last comment at Jade, who flips him off without turning around.
When Rowan disappears into the crowd, I turn back to my unwanted companion. “Why are you really here?”
Jade takes a sip of his whiskey, grimacing at the burn. “Micah’s worried sick about you.”
My stomach clenches at the mention of my best friend. “I’m fine.”
“Are you? Because you’re dodging his calls, which is freaking him out, and now every other Omega in the house is agitated.” Jade swirls his drink. “Your pity party is destabilizing a delicate ecosystem, so figure your shit out.”
A snarl builds in my throat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Course I do.” Jade twirls the whiskey. “Fucking Alpha decided he knew best and fucked shit up. Am I wrong?”
The accuracy of his assessment steals my retort. “He stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.”
“Fucking billionaire assholes.” Jade raises his glass.
I clink mine against his. “How do you deal with being surrounded by those Alphas?”
“One day at a time.” Jade sobers. “Sometimes hour by hour. But Caleb’s okay.”
“And the rest?”
“All agitated trying to soothe their mates, and Aaiden’s pissed that Gabe’s still MIA.” Jade shrugs. “He’s fucking miserable, by the way, if it helps salve your wounds.”
It doesn’t. The confirmation that Gabriel’s hurting, too, only twists the knife deeper.
My hand tightens on my glass. “If he’s MIA, how do you know he’s miserable?”
“Not a Rockford, so I’m not on his avoidance list.” Jade takes a sip of his whiskey. “And I’m enjoying watching Aaiden tie himself in knots, so my lips are zipped on baby brother’s location.”
My focus shifts to the door, half expecting the head of the family to appear any second. He’s never far from Jade. “Where’s papa bear right now?”
“Aaiden?” At my nod, Jade shrugs. “Probably throwing a tantrum if he’s realized I slipped the leash.”
“I’m surprised he doesn’t have you under better watch,” I mutter.
“Fucker would chip me if he believed he’d survive putting anything besides his cock inside me,” he mutters.
Shock brings my head around. “You…want that?”
Jade snorts. “Trauma doesn’t always change what you want. But it sure as fuck complicates things. And Rockford Alphas deciding what’s best doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Fucking right.”
We sit in silence for a minute, each stuck in our own mental hells while sipping our whiskies.
“So, how’s the hunt for Tony going?” I ask, wanting an update even if I’m not working with Gabriel anymore.
Jade’s eyes go flat. “Slow. At this rate, I’ll be as old as Aaiden before I get my revenge.”
“That working out for you? The revenge thing?”
“Not really.” He traces the rim of his glass with one finger. “But I can’t stop.”
The raw honesty catches me off guard. I expect deflection or bravado, not this quiet admission.
“Even when I put every last one of them in the ground, the hurt will still be there,” Jade says, matter-of-fact. “And if I don’t find a way to come to terms with it before then, I’ll burn myself up once I’ve lost my outlet.”
My fingers tighten around my glass. The words hit too close to home, echoing thoughts I’ve had during my darkest moments. Nights spent cleaning blood from my knuckles after beating some nameless asshole in an alley, wondering if there would ever be enough violence to fill the void inside me.
“What’s your alternative?” I ask the question as much for myself as for him.
Jade’s usual cockiness vanishes, and fragile uncertainty takes its place. “Haven’t figured it out yet. Letting people in, maybe.”
“That’s a fucking nightmare.” I finish my drink in one swallow.
“Yeah.” He laughs, the sound devoid of happiness. “But what’s our other option? If we can’t slay our demons, we might as well lie down in the grave with them.”
I stare into my drink. “Might be easier that way.”
“Might be.” Jade slides off his stool and drops some cash on the bar to cover his drink. “Whatever shit went down with you and Gabe, Micah doesn’t deserve to be collateral damage. Call him before he puts his life at risk to come look for you himself.”
“I will.”
“And Saint?” Jade pauses next to my stool. “Watch your back better. The way you’re going right now, you’re just asking for someone to collect that bounty.”
As he walks away, I signal Ghost for another refill to drown out the truth that revenge is a bottomless pit that consumes everything without ever being filled.
I drop my keys on my kitchen counter, the clatter echoing through the empty apartment. My jacket follows, tossed over the back of the couch.
In the bedroom, the evidence of him remains. The missing sheet from my bed that I haven’t bothered to replace. The pillow with his cologne still lingering on it, fading but present enough to catch me off guard when I turn over in the night.
I pull my phone from my pocket to find six missed calls from Micah over the past three days, two voicemails I haven’t listened to, and a string of increasingly worried texts.
Micah
Call me back.
Saint, please.
I’m worried about you.
Are you okay?
The last one, sent hours ago.
Micah
Whatever happened, we can fix it.
Please talk to me.
My thumb hovers over the call button, but I can’t press it. Micah would forgive me the silence, the distance, maybe even ordering DNA tests on his new brother-in-law. And the certainty of that makes the call impossible.
I’m not sure, in this instance, I deserve his forgiveness.
With a shake of my head, I drop the phone onto the kitchen counter and head for the cabinet where I keep the whiskey.
A knock at my door pulls me around, though, and I cross to the door on silent footsteps to check the peephole first. A man stands on the other side, with a bicycle helmet pushed back to show his face.
I slide my hand into the lowest pocket of the hanging organizer on the back of the door, and my fingers curl around cold metal, the familiar weight settling my nerves even as my pulse kicks harder.
“Who is it?”
“Delivery for Saint,” the man calls back.
“From who?” I demand.
“Ghost.”
I keep the gun low and out of sight as I undo the deadbolt, the click loudly. The chain stays as I crack the door far enough to see him.
He extends a sealed envelope through the gap. “As requested.”
My throat tightens as I take it, the file thinner than I thought it would be.
Without waiting for acknowledgment, the man turns and walks away, his footsteps fading down the hall.
I lock the door and return the gun to its hiding spot. The envelope burns in my hand as I turn it to confirm it came from the DNA testing service we use.
I don’t think I’m really a Rockford. Not by blood, at least. Not where it counts.
I avoid the envelope for hours, unable to touch it beyond holding it at arm’s length. It sits on my coffee table while I shower, while I choke down a sandwich, and while darkness falls outside my windows. The paper gleams white in the dim light, an accusation without words.