Chapter Thirty-Six #2
Things might have started without my consent, but now, I don’t want to leave Dorian.
I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave him.
“Carver’s late wife threatened to put me and Mom to work in a strip club—which was probably code for trafficking.
Carver always looked at me weird, and Clyde nearly killed me or got me killed more times than I can count.
” I gaze deep into Asher’s eyes, letting him see the truth of my words.
“Help me get out from under Clyde and Carver’s thumbs.
I wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t trust my legion. ”
“Your legion?” Asher repeats, eyebrows raising. “Have you been indoctrinated?”
“I’m in love with one of its members,” I say, only to freeze when Seamus gives me a wide-eyed look.
I part my lips to backpedal, but can’t get any negative words out, because they’d be a lie.
Somewhere during the insanity of the last weeks, as Dorian’s kept me captive and shoved me into his life, only to bare his soul to me, I truly have fallen for him.
I didn’t intend to—I was committed not to.
But, if I had the chance to go back and not stumble on Dorian in the woods, I don’t think I’d take it.
I’m glad I met him. He centers me in a way nobody else ever has.
He invigorates me, makes me feel alive. He takes care of me, genuinely cares for me, and puts all his focus on me. How could I not fall for him?
I know it’s too soon. I know that I shouldn’t feel this way yet or be so certain of my emotions, but I am. I don’t care about the timeline or the way we met; all I care about is that I have Dorian now, and I’m not letting him go.
I clear my throat. “Considering that, I’d say I’m part of it just by association.”
“And you would be correct,” Seamus says, giving me an approving nod.
Asher sighs. “I won’t pretend to know your own mind better than you do, but I want to meet this boy of yours. And the other one, too.” He frowns. “Why didn’t you bring your man with you? Why take pretty boy?”
“We had a few things to talk about, and Dorian is very… protective. He has more emotions than sense when it comes to me. I didn’t want the two of you to end up at each other’s throats.”
Asher folds his arms over his chest. “What is it exactly that you need? How many weapons are we talking? Guns? Rifles? Semis? AR’s? Make? Ammo?”
“As many as you can spare,” Seamus says. “We can work with any type of weapon.”
“I can spare a lot, boy,” Asher says. “Call in your… legion, and we’ll talk.”
Dorian and Connor arrive within half an hour, and we greet them in the lobby.
Connor’s quiet, as usual, casing the place with sharp eyes while Dorian makes a beeline for me and wraps his arms around my waist, planting a kiss on my lips.
“You should’ve let me come from the get-go,” he says. “Then we wouldn’t have rented an extra car.”
I scoff. “You just got us an apartment—I’m sure you can afford the expense of a rental. Besides, I needed to prep Asher.”
I take a step back, folding my hand into Dorian’s, and turn to face Asher. “Asher, this is Dorian. My boyfriend.”
Dorian perks up at my side, casting me a glance of surprise. I haven’t called him my boyfriend yet, even though he’s been insisting that we’re official for a while. He’ll get a real punch in the gut when I work up the nerve to tell him I love him.
“I can see why you chose him,” Asher says drily. “He’s not bad to look at.” He steps forward, looking Dorian up and down. After a moment, he offers Dorian his hand. “Asher. You got any brains in that good-looking head of yours?”
“One or two brain cells for sure,” Dorian responds, taking Asher’s hand and giving it a shake. “My woman says you’re the man to talk to for firepower.”
“Your woman, huh?” Asher repeats, glancing at me. “She’s right on that account. First, why don’t you and I have a nice little chat?”
“Asher,” I say warningly. He’s always been protective of me, so I’m sure that his chat with Dorian will involve threats of dismemberment should any harm—physical or emotional—befall me.
Asher gives me a deceptively innocent look. “What? I just want to get to know him.”
“More like threaten him,” I say flatly. “Save that shit for later; we have things to do now. Please.”
“Fine,” Asher sighs. He looks at Dorian, eyes hardening.
“I’ll make this quick, then. Hurt her and you’re dead.
Let her get hurt and you’re dead. If you want to be her man, then your job is to be her protector, defender, and the person who worships the ground she fuckin’ walks on.
If I hear that you’re not keeping her happy, that you’re not prioritizing her needs above your own, you’re also dead.
” He tilts his head to the side. “Clear on all that?”
“Perfectly,” Dorian says. “I’ll take care of her. I already worship the ground she walks on, and I’ll keep doing so. You will never need to worry about her safety or care—not for a moment. I’ve got her now.” Dorian appraises Asher, his brows drawing together. “Who is she to you?”
Asher gazes at me for several beats, his lips thinned. Emotions flash in his eyes, and his energy crackles with something meaningful, as if he wants to say something but is holding himself back. We lock eyes for several moments, and something tugs at my gut. Questions begin to swirl in my mind.
Asher had my back when no one else did. He bought me things when Clyde wouldn’t, took care of me when my own stepfather ignored and abused me.
Got me clothes when I grew out of mine. New shoes when I wore holes through old ones.
Backpacks at the top of every school year so I wouldn’t have to carry all my supplies by hand.
In the past, I always assumed that Asher looked out for me because he loved my mother and lost her.
I wasn’t in a mindset to look into our relationship too deeply; I was too desperate for survival.
But now that I really think about it, I believe there’s more to the matter.
He went above and beyond for me repeatedly—treated me like a relative.
I slowly tilt my head to the side as I stare at him—really stare at him. His eyes are grey; an endless, almost translucent grey that reminds me of my eyes when I look in the mirror. My thoughts start racing with possibilities.
I knew Mom dated Asher when she was younger, a few years before my birth. Maybe even up to nine months before I was born. It couldn’t be… but it could be…
The possibility that I might be staring at my biological father smacks me square in the esophagus, nearly robbing me of breath. The idea itself seems ridiculously far-fetched—if Asher’s my father, why wouldn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he raise me? Why would he abandon me?
I didn’t even know about him until after Mom married Clyde. But once Asher showed up, he showed up.
Clyde told him in no uncertain terms that he’d kill my mom if Asher kept hanging around us, so he backed off.
Mom got really depressed when that happened, and not long after, she was killed.
Asher reached out to me when Clyde wasn’t around, telling me that if I ever needed anything, I should go to him.
He was in the hospital when I woke up from surgery on my leg. I never found out for sure, but I’m reasonably certain he paid the bill for my surgery. Clyde never mentioned any payments, but if my stepfather had dropped thousands of dollars on me, I never would’ve heard the end of it.
“Asher,” I say slowly, “is there something I should know?”
It’s the wrong time to have this discussion.
I’m a few hours out from meeting with a legendary bratva boss, and the legion is here.
We need to get our weapons and our shit together.
I don’t want to have it out right now, but I can’t help myself.
I’m seeing things I was too close to see before, and now I have to know.
“Yeah,” Asher says quietly. “I think you do already know, sweetheart.”
I swallow hard. His lack of denial is enough to tell me the truth. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugs, looking away. Connor and Seamus busy themselves perusing the selection of guns, while Dorian stays right by my side, squeezing my hand.
“Because your mother and I split for a good reason.”
“That reason being?”
He sighs. “My drug habit. After I left the Marines, shit got difficult. I didn’t know who I was or what to do.
I was traumatized and did not know how to cope with my PTSD.
Your mom got pregnant, and I was hooked on shit nobody should be hooked on, so she left.
By the time I pulled my head out of my ass and was ready to show up, she’d already remarried.
Clyde would’ve sooner killed her than let her go, so that was that. ”
My lips twist. A million emotions swarm through me like a buzzing, angry nest of wasps, so quick and jumbled that I can’t make a single one out.
Knowing this years ago would’ve been helpful.
Knowing that I truly wasn’t alone… it would’ve given me the strength to leave sooner.
It’s unreasonable, but I can’t help but feel like Asher literally left me for the wolves.
He seems to read my mind, because he says, “When I threatened to go to court for custody after your mother’s death, Clyde said he’d kill you before giving you away.
I believed him, so I stayed on the sidelines.
But I was always watching. I had your back.
” His head lowers. “I couldn’t have the spotlight, so I did what I could from the shadows.
I got you out of here, which was the best gift I could give you. ”
“You should’ve told me,” I admonish faintly, feeling my eyes sting with tears. “You really should’ve told me, Asher.”
“I know. But doing so would’ve put you in danger, which I couldn’t bear. I’m sorry.”
“Touching as this moment is, we’ve got shit to do,” Connor says drily. “You gonna help or not?”
“Of course I will.” Asher stares right at me as he says the words. “I’ll always help you when you need it.”
I force down the emotions bubbling in my throat. It’s not the time or place. We can unpack this when there aren’t trafficking rings to be dismantled and people to be killed. “Right, then. Let’s get to it.”