Chapter 30
THIRTY
STORM
O ne-two. One-two. One-two.
I count in my brain as I deliver quick jabs at the punching bag in the underground gym. I don’t have music on to drown out my thoughts, instead choosing to meditate to the rhythm of flesh meeting leather.
But I’m so on edge, beating the shit out of the bag does little for stabilizing my mood.
I’m a walking contradiction.
When I’m around Riale and Axel, I’m pissed. We argue about what the next right step is when it comes to Lakeland, and no one walks away happy.
When I’m with Tempest and Raiden, though, I’m cautious and joyful. Not that we’ve become one big happy family by any means. Tempest only acknowledges me by rolling her eyes, and Raiden still looks terrified of and mesmerized by me.
Shae usually is there, quietly observing how I handle the kids.
Judging. And I feel like I’m one wrong word away from her ripping my children away from me.
It’s fascinating how quickly they’ve become a part of me; how essential it is to see their faces as I start and end each day.
And that’s what makes the quiet moments when I’m away from them nearly unbearable, because in the silence, I’m reminded of what I lost. What I gave up.
What pride and revenge cost me.
When I’m alone, I sit with the fact that my short-sighted decisions, no matter how well-intentioned, nearly cost me everything.
But at least now, I have a chance to make it right from here.
I just need to figure out exactly how the fuck I’m gonna do that, because right now? All my relationships are in tatters, but I’m the one who needs to do the hard as fuck work of mending them.
The door slams against the wall, but I don’t have to look to know who it is.
“Meet me in the ring.” Riale’s voice comes from behind me, echoing off the mirrors opposite us. I arch an eyebrow, staring at his reflection.
“Oh, really?” I ask, still not turning around. I guess that says something in itself. I’m here with a man who betrayed me at my back, and yet, I’m not turning around.
Probably because the bigger part of me knows Riale’s my fucking brother, and while he made the wrong decision when he kept info about Shae’s pregnancy away from me, I know he did so because he’s loyal to me.
He did it because he cares.
Fuck, next thing I know, he and I are gonna have a slumber party and start painting each other’s nails.
Smirking, I finally turn around, pulling off my boxing gloves and throwing them to the ground.
“Does this have to do with our talk earlier?” I ask, knowing full well that Riale is pissed because of how unproductive our earlier conversation about Operation Kill Lakeland was. He marches across the gym in black jersey-knit shorts and a Henley.
“You mean the fact that you sat there silently like a fucking twelve-year-old instead of actually participating in any planning? Yeah. That,” Riale says.
I shrug.
“You know where I stand,” I grind out, turning away from him. He grabs my shoulder, gripping tight. On instinct, I throw a punch, and it lands on his cheek.
It takes only a second for Riale to recover, and when he does, he laughs.
“This situation is fucked up all around, but we’ve never moved past the shit with Shae.
Everything comes back to this shit with Shae, and since it’s clear you’re not gonna be able to move past your rage and be rational until you feel you’ve received justice—” Riale pulls his shirt off and throws it at my feet. “Meet me in the goddamn ring.”
He doesn’t wait for me to verbalize agreement. Instead, he walks to the far end of the gym, flips on the spotlight over the practice ring, and hops over the ropes.
I glare at him, ready to tell him to fuck off, when he opens his fucking mouth again.
“You know what your problem is, Storm?” Riale leans against the top rope, his hands dangling over the edge. “You think you’re the only person who’s been hurt. You think you’re the only person who’s gone through some shit.”
I grind my molars.
“Newsflash, Sandoval. You’re not that fucking special.”
I should walk away, because I know what he’s doing—he’s trying to goad me into fighting. I resist, though, and it dawns on me that maybe I don’t want to release my anger….
…because if I release my anger toward Riale, what will I have left to hold on to?
Grief and shame peer around the edge of my consciousness, waiting for their chance to take the stage.
“Fuck off, Riale,” I say, picking up the gloves and placing them on the side table.
“Nah,” Riale spits back, moving around the ring to track my movements. “That’s your issue, Storm. You think you’re a god, but I’m sorry to tell you, you’re a mere mortal. You’re a man who makes some stupid-ass decisions. But you’re not man enough to own up to the consequences.”
I whirl on him, taking angry steps toward the ring.
“You think I don’t live with the consequences of my actions? Of everyone’s actions? Be so fucking for real, Riale,” I say. He smirks, and yep, there goes my fist clenching tight.
“Sure you do, Storm,” he drawls, the words dripping with sarcasm.
“Here’s the truth: You’ve been so caught up in your ‘she didn’t tell me about the twins’ sob story, you forget the part where you left her, Storm.
You broke that girl in half, and now you act like you're owed something. You want forgiveness without doing the fucking work.”
I shake my head, denying his words, even though a voice in my brain whispers, “Don’t you think that’s true, Storm?”
I barreled back into her life, made grand declarations, and…isn’t that what I did the first time? And then, all those years ago, I cut off ties so brutally, so devastatingly, it broke her.
No. I didn’t break her. I changed her.
“If you ever loved that girl, you’d let her go. She should be free, but you’ve got your hooks so deep into her, you don’t even realize you’re killing her.”
“Stop.” My vision starts to fizz around the edges the more he talks.
“Nah, Storm. Someone needs to tell you the truth, seeing as no one ever does. They’re scared to upset you—to send you off the deep end, but it’s time we all stopped babying you.”
I hop over the ropes, unclenching my muscles and facing Riale head-on.
“Finally, here we go,” Riale says, loosening his limbs.
“You’re so holier-than-thou, Riale. If only you could see that’s why your life is fucking miserable ,” I spit, circling my best friend.
I don’t want to do this, but I know I’ve worn this armor as long as I can. Riale’s making me face this shit, and I’ll make him bleed for doing so.
“Yep, keep it comin’, Sandoval,” he mocks, arms up and tensed.
“You think I’m spoiled, entitled. Have you ever looked in a goddamn mirror? You think the world owes you, but you’re wrong. Nobody owes you shit,” I throw back.
“Yep,” Riale says. “And you’re petrified that Shae will never love you again. Not if you actually give her the choice.”
My fist throbs as I land a cheap punch to his jaw, and Riale stumbles back, pivoting away from my follow-up shot.
He laughs, thick blood coating his teeth.
“Come on, baby boy,” he sneers. “Get all your rage out. Because yeah, I kept information from you. Information I knew you couldn’t handle. But you wanna know the real fucked thing?”
He leans to the left as I throw out another punch, opening myself to the hit he delivers to my kidney. Falling to one knee, Riale leans over me.
“The most fucked-up thing is that all of this happened because of you . You decided that breaking her heart was the best decision. You decided to pursue Lakeland and destroy him, rather than walking away and building from where you stood. You decided to create the hell you’re living in—and that she and your kids are living in. ”
I kick my leg out and get the advantage when he lands on his back. Despite being pinned to the ground, Riale smiles, still smiles, while I deliver hit after hit to his face.
There’s a horrible sound filling the room, and as my senses start to flood in, I realize the roar comes from me.
“Face the shit and let it go!” Riale shouts, and I stop, my chest heaving as my stomach swirls.
I created this hell. I created this hell, and that’s a horrifying reality to live with.
“ Fuck !” I shout, lurching up and heading toward the ropes. Hanging my head, I repeat the word several times.
Riale coughs, and I face him, pacing and watching as he spits up blood.
“Feel better?” he grinds out, wiping blood away from his nose.
No. No, not at all, because the words keep ringing in my ears: I created this hell.
I shake my head, pressing my lips together and making the bottom one sting.
“That’s because—” he grunts as he stands “—you’re going to have to accept that in order to survive, you’ve got to release control.”
My eyes slide closed at those words, and I stop in the middle of the ring, looking down at my bare feet.
A memory comes forward: My mom and I sitting in the loft of the art barn. She reminded me of the time I almost died in the Gulf of Mexico, ripped away by the tide. I fought and fought against the waves, but the only real way out was to stop.
So, I stopped. And I lived.
I sniff and wipe my face, but some of the moisture on my cheeks isn’t blood.
“You need to think clearly here, Storm. You need to consider what’s good for her, your kids, for everyone. Not just on what you want. Not just on what you fear.”
And that’s it, that’s the core of the wound.
The fear is that Shae will see me clearly, not as the man I want to be, but as the man I am—a man who chose revenge, pain, retribution…over her.
I rejected faith, partnership, and love for darkness.
I rejected her in favor of holding on to my grief and rage.
And because of that, the deepest, most cutting fear I’m so afraid to face?
It’s that I’ll try to be worthy, I’ll try to earn her forgiveness, but because forgiveness isn’t earned, it’s given, she’ll see all the horrible, closed-minded, temperamental parts of me and say, “Thanks for trying, but no, thanks.”
And then where will I be? What will I have if I can’t have Shae and my family?
“Storm.” Riale grips my shoulder, standing in front of me. For the first time in a long time, I’m back to that broken man who craved Shae with every part of my body and soul.
“You’ve got to let go,” Riale says, his voice low.
“I can’t let her go,” I grind out, shaking my head.
“I’m saying you’ve got to let her choose. You won’t win anything by force, Storm. All you’ll do is lose more than I think you’re really willing to give up.”
I hold my breath, feeling the burn.
“You gave up eight years of your life—of their lives—to this mission. Make it worth something, Storm. That’s all I ask,” he replies.
I look at him, and something he sees in my gaze makes him grin.
“I hear you, Riale,” I rasp. He pats my shoulder before taking a step back and grimacing.
“For real, though, did you have to wail on my face like that?” Riale says, balling up his shirt and using it as a compress for the cut above his eye.
I shrug.
“You got in a nice kidney shot,” I throw back, and Riale laughs. We stand there for a second before Riale lifts his hand for a shake.
I stare at his outstretched palm before clasping it and pulling him in for a back slap.
“You know you my dawg, right?” Riale says, and I huff, pulling away and hitting his shoulder hard.
“I know. Likewise,” I add with an eyeroll.
“All right, enough of this pussy shit. See you tonight,” Riale says.
“For what?” I ask, thinking of putting Tempest and Riale to bed, but then realizing I’d likely scare the shit out of them if I showed up with a busted face.
“You really weren’t listening, were you?” Riale says, shaking his head. “Axel made contact with the Ukrainian. We have a way to end this—and give you that happy ending you’re dying for.”
I spin his words around, checking myself to make sure I’m not misinterpreting them.
I’m not. We’ve got a path forward…which means I have a path forward.
With Shae. With the kids.
Maybe even as a family.
“We got work to do, nigga. You ready?” Riale says. I smile wide, ignoring the fresh wound I re-open to do so.