30. Thirty
A splitting headache wrenches me out of another awful night of sleep. The sudden sharp consciousness makes my gut churn, and I have to force breath into my lungs. I’m commanding my body to hold itself together when it wants nothing more than to tear apart at the seams. Demanding my stomach not to revolt like it’s threatening to.
Just another perfect morning.
The stress and the nightmares do everything they can to wake me up and keep me up, occupying every moment of every day. Both fight brutally against the bourbon I try to drown my mind in.
It never works, not really.
If anything, it’s become worse in the month we’ve been in the bunker. Four weeks and a day here, and I’m strung tighter than ever.
Why now?
Why, when my goal is in sight? Why, now that I have a chance in hell of taking down the Giordano family and regaining the sanity that is rightfully mine? Why am I being pelted with sharp memories and tormented by newly formed night terrors, when everything I want is within reach?
I splash my face with cold water from my sink, desperate to wash away the night.
When I look up to the mirror, I almost expect to see a terrified fifteen-year-old boy. The one who’s so eager to claw his way to the forefront of my conscious and unconscious mind.
That child, panting and dry heaving. Still covered in his father’s blood. Still reeling from the sight of his father taking his own life.
Instead, I see a man haunted by the crimes he’s committed and those which he has yet to commit in the name of revenge. A man whose hair is graying prematurely from the goddamn trials of having to build himself up from nothing. Clawing his way back from hell after his life was torn apart.
One error.
One single misstep was all it took for my father to lose everything.
One stupid fucking error, and he made sure I knew. Made sure I understood that if I didn’t plan for every possibility, every outcome, everything can, and will, be ripped away in an instant. I am the only one I can rely on to ensure my own success, my own safety, as well as the safety of those I choose to protect and keep by my side.
If I don’t meticulously plan out every microscopic detail of every single plan and living arrangement, I might as well hand everything I’ve built to Battiste and his fucking empire.
Slowly, so slowly, I’ve learned to let go of my need for control. Not completely, never fully. Just enough to keep me breathing. Just enough to find the men whose work I trust almost as much as my own. Tucker’s tech expertise and ability to play a role. Rayner’s fighting and skill with explosives. Silas’ quickness to act and his brutal efficiency on a job.
This is my team.
These are the people I’ve fought every one of my instincts to trust. Time and time again they’ve proven themselves worthy of that trust and shown a great deal of patience with my obsessive need for perfection.
Madeline, on the other hand, is a wild card wrapped in a dangerous package.
The moment her name settles into my mind I have to smother the image of her panting, staring up at me and refusing to do as she’s told in the woods.
My blood pressure spikes at the memory and I splash more water over my face, hoping it will be enough to wash her from my thoughts, to distract from the lingering feeling of her pulse beneath my thumb.
She is both the ultimate threat and the elusive key to my victory. Without her, there is no shot in hell we’ll be able to pull this off.
With her though?
I have no idea what my chances are, and it’s eating me alive. I can’t plan redundancies when she is all I have. All we have. The only one physically capable of pulling off the impossible. We have one shot, and she’s it.
I can’t control her, and I don’t even know where to begin trying, so I’ve given her to the men I’ve battled my own demons to trust.
I won’t pretend her presence doesn’t affect me, but I’ll be damned if I let her get between me and my goals. I have to stay the hell away from her and keep my thoughts at bay. It’s a constant challenge to distract my mind from her body and her infuriating snark, but I have to. Or I’ll abandon everything. Ditch the whole plan, and have Rayner blow it up for good measure.
I’d also renege on my deal with her. I know that above everything else. The moment I grow too close to her, the moment she truly infests my mind, she will be mine. I won’t let anything, or anyone, take her away from me. Even her own desire for the bullshit freedom she thinks she’s going to get wouldn’t be enough to keep her away from me.
It’s better for everyone if I stay away.
Based on the muffled sounds drifting and echoing through every part of the bunker over the past few weeks, she’s already gotten into the rest of them. One by one they’ve fallen to their knees before her, each of my men losing their focus. Distractions are the last thing we need, especially when we’re so close to finally finishing this. So damn close to closing this chapter for good.
I pull myself together, steeling my body and mind for yet another day careening towards the end, another day closer to finishing the job, and head to the training room.