Chapter 36 Kratos
Spencer, Zander, and Trent are sitting around the kitchen when I come back.
I’d gone out to have a cigarette and calm down, so that I wouldn’t go back and beat the shit out of Rick.
It’s not that he didn’t deserve it; he does, but I can also see how it must have looked to him, and he was upset for the right reasons.
Doesn’t mean he couldn’t get a black eye for it, though.
Jade was the only reason I walked away. I knew she wouldn’t have wanted us fighting, and as I look around the room now, I notice their absence.
I can almost guarantee they're figuring this out somewhere. How they would do that, I’m sure, could end in a lot of ways, but they hadn’t been in the gym when I got back, so I assumed they weren’t fighting it out.
Spencer sits at one end of the island, his laptop open, though he’s not paying it any attention.
Instead, his gaze is on Zander, who sits at the opposite end, deep in conversation with Trent.
I’m assuming Trent’s filling him in on what went down in the gym, and Zander's hanging on his every word. He either doesn’t notice Spencer’s death glare or he doesn’t care.
Probably a bit of both, knowing Zander.
A quick glance at the clock lets me know it’s just after four thirty in the morning, and I would bet money none of these fuckers have been to bed yet.
Not that I have much room to talk, seeing as how I haven’t either, but with tensions as high as they are right now, adding sleep deprivation to the list probably isn’t a great idea.
I grab a water and lean against the counter just as Zander turns his attention to me.
His face is so serious that I lift a brow at him in question. It’s not like Zander to take much seriously. Even during most missions, he’s the first one ready to make a joke or dick around, so whatever it is must be important.
“Is she okay?” he asks, and while Trent was the one explaining what happened, there's no denying his question is for me. I look at him for a minute, trying to decide what to say. She was a bit beaten up and more than a little upset when I left, but as I look at him, I realize he doesn't mean physically. He’s worried about her mental state, the same way I was when I found her down in the gym, pounding the fuck out of that bag as if she wasn’t tearing the skin off her knuckles.
Somehow, he’s picked up on much more about Jade than I realized. I’m not sure if I’m more shocked that he took the time to pay attention, or that she opened up to him so quickly for him to see it.
I give him a stiff nod in response, and while I offer him no explanation, it seems to be enough for him. He lets out a sigh, and his shoulders sag as if all of his worries drained out of him with that single puff of air.
Zander turns his attention back to Trent, and while Trent still looks concerned, they fall back into easy conversation again. Spencer turns his gaze to me, giving me a nod before he goes back to whatever he’s working on, and though I want to ask what it is, I resist.
I hadn’t planned to let them in on Jade’s secret when everything first started.
Hell, I didn’t want anyone to know if they didn’t need to.
I hadn’t even told Dom, and we have much more history.
I’d thought the fewer people who knew, the safer she was, and while that still might be true, I can’t begrudge her decision to let them know.
Jade deserves normalcy, friends, and people who care.
These guys wouldn’t have been my first choice, not by a long shot, but that's exactly what they’ve become for her.
They had a bit of a rocky start, some more than others, and they might not mix well together yet, but I can see that they're good for her, the same way she seems to be good for them.
I gulp down half my water, content to wait here.
Knowing Jade will come find me if she needs me, but I don’t think she’ll need me the way she used to, at least not right now.
I’m not her only choice anymore, and while that stings, it also takes a weight off.
This isn’t all on us. All on her. We can do more, see more, and be more, and now we have a team.
I have a group of men at my disposal who I’m pretty damn sure would also go to hell for her.
Even if they don’t realize it yet, or simply don’t want to admit it.
Zander says something, and without looking, Spencer throws a pencil at him. It smacks him dead in the forehead, and Zander bursts out laughing.
I’d never intended to have us rely on others, but she chose the right group, and I’m more than happy to keep them in line for her. I’ve never felt more sure that we can put an end to this shit than I do now, thinking about how far we would all go to do that for her.
I find something to eat, choosing to warm up some leftovers that were in the fridge.
The food here is always good, and I know it can’t be that old.
Rick cleans this fridge out more often than anyone I’ve ever met, in constant need of room for ingredients.
I finish eating just as I hear movement in the living room, and a second later, Rick walks through the door.
He stops for a moment, looking around. His eyes skim over each of us, and I know that his earlier anger is long gone.
Something calmed him the fuck down, or more than likely, someone.
I don’t even attempt to fight my smirk, but he doesn’t pay it any attention, his gaze moving to Trent, who still sits beside Zander, the two deep in conversation about his dad's motorcycle.
Rick makes a beeline for him, taking the open stool between Trent and Spencer.
“Care to help?” Rick asks without meeting any of our gazes. It takes me a moment to figure out what he could need help with. Until my gaze moves down to his hand, where it rests on the counter, palm down.
The back of his hand is a fucking mess. There are bits of broken glass sticking out in varying sizes. Some look deeper than others, but all of it is red and angry, with bits of blood running down his hand.
“What the fuck, Rick!” Trent shouts, pushing back his stool and jumping to his feet. He's around the island and rummaging under the kitchen sink, pulling out a first aid kit and making his way back around to him in less than five seconds.
Zander hollers with laughter. “I fucking told you he broke something,” he says, holding his stomach while he crumbles forward onto the counter, still laughing.
“I didn’t say he didn’t break something, dumbass. It was only a question of what he broke,” Spencer deadpans without looking up.
“Oh, wait, don’t tell me!” Zander shoots upright, turning to face him as Trent gets to work removing the glass from his hand. “The bathroom mirror, right?” Zander gasps out as he continues to laugh.
Rick doesn’t answer him, but the look of annoyance he shoots at Zander makes me think he’s probably right.
“It’s either that or the damn window,” Spencer adds in the same bored tone, and Rick huffs but still doesn’t respond.
“Those are his favorite, but man, I can’t even tell you how many times we’ve had to replace that damn mirror now,” Zander explains, and I turn my gaze back to Rick, expecting him to snap.
His nostrils flare, and while I can see he’s somewhat annoyed, he doesn’t look like he’s about to beat Zander’s face in.
Strange. I’d like to say it’s because of his injury, but we all know that’s not the case.
When Rick gets angry enough, it doesn’t matter if he’s got a broken bone or a gunshot wound; he’ll let you know.
Zander continues to laugh hysterically, fighting to breathe while Trent works on Rick’s hand, and the longer I watch Rick, the more I see that not only is his earlier anger gone, but this is the calmest I’ve seen him in a long time.
He’s usually pretty good at hiding how he feels.
Making him appear unfeeling, mixed with his sheer size, and that paints a pretty intimidating picture, but I know better.
I’ve been in this game longer than he has.
I know the signs, and right now, he really is calm, not just faking it.
It’s strange. I’d thought that Jade could sort him out, but I half expected him to still be angry with me.
Trent curses, and I turn my attention to him as he digs around in Rick’s hand with tiny tweezers.
“Why did you wait so long to come down here?” Trent demands, looking up at Rick, his gaze narrow with his obvious disapproval.
“I was busy.”
Rick answers simply, not looking the least bit concerned.
“Yeah, well, hopefully, it was with something worth it because I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get all of this out now,” Trent grumbles, turning his attention back to Rick's hand with a frustrated sigh.
“Just get out what you can and wrap it up. The rest can come out on its own or not at all,” Rick tells him, his words a bit rushed as Trent stops again, looking at him like he's grown a second head.
“You should go to urgent care or see the doc down at Hopper’s at the least. You don’t need glass just chilling in your hand. It could get infect-–”
“Just get what you can,” Rick repeats, cutting Trent off.
Trent sighs again, shaking his head, but gets back to work removing the glass. We all know Rick won’t do anything he doesn’t want to. No use arguing with him, but something about the way he’s dusting it off doesn’t sit right.
“What’s the rush, Ricky?” Zander asks him, picking up on the same strangeness that I had.
“I just don’t want to sit here all day over some stupid glass,” Rick shoots back, but it lacks his usual heat.
Zander’s brows knit together as he watches him, pacing the length of the kitchen, watching Rick as if trying to solve a puzzle.
Even Spencer takes a moment to look up from his computer at Rick.