31. Ethan
Chapter 31
Ethan
I run a hand down my face and stare at my phone. The text I sent to Denver has finally been read. It’s been three hours since I sent it, and every minute has felt like choking. I left the dogs at Zeke’s, needing tonight to get my life together, to get ready.
It’s been a week since Denver’s confession. A week since she revealed that she was the one who killed Wyatt. The night she told me, I’d left Pulse without telling anyone where I was going. My plan was to go home, to regroup, to sort my fucking thoughts. Instead, I’d driven to the gym. Rich was just locking up after a long day, and I’d asked if I could borrow the keys. He isn’t only the owner of the gym where I first started boxing, but he’s my sponsor, so when he saw my expression, he stayed with me.
He took a seat and watched me hit the bag. It felt almost like old times. The rage, the uncontrollable need to hurt without hurting myself or others. When I’d exhausted myself, Rich asked me what had happened, and for the first time in more than ten years, I lied to him and said it had just been a long and crappy day.
But it wasn’t like I could tell him the truth.
That night, I didn’t sleep. I thought about her. I found more recordings online of Wyatt saying those things about Denver. I told myself that Denver killed him for a reason, not because she wanted to but because she likely had no choice.
And then I decided to do something about it.
When my phone finally rings, I snatch it up.
“Hey,” I say.
Denver asks, “Did you tell them?”
I close my eyes. I can’t blame that for being her first question, but it still hurts that she thinks I’d do that. “No.”
“Fuck.” She breathes out the word. “Are you going to?”
“Of course not,” I say, standing. I stride over to the small kitchen island and rest my hand on the brown envelope. “Denver, I want you to leave with me.”
She says nothing.
“I’ve found a way out for both of us,” I say. “No more Ranger. No more bullets. Just you and me. We can go anywhere. Axel, too.”
“Axel? How would you?—”
“It doesn’t matter how,” I say, the words a punch to my stomach, but she doesn’t need to know everything now. “What matters is we can leave tonight. I can pick you up, and you never have to see Ranger ever again. You love me, Denver.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t lie to me.” I insist. “You love me, Denver. I know you do.”
“Even if I did… I love him more,” she says. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I’m sorry you got caught up in this mess, but I’m not leaving him. Not for you.”
My breathing switches from too little to too much. This can’t be happening. It can’t be. “Then don’t leave him for me. Just leave him.”
“Ethan—”
“I am not going to your funeral, Denver. I won’t sit here and wait for the call saying you’re dead. I refuse.” My voice breaks. “Don’t leave with me, then. Leave with Axel. Both of you get out. Just… live, Denver. For fuck’s sake, live.” She’s quiet, and my heart thumps painfully. “Come and see me. We can talk about this in person. Let me see you one last time, and if you still want to walk away, I won’t stop you. I won’t call you.” Still no response. “Please, Denver.”
I need this. To see her, hold her, beg her if I have to, but then I really will walk away. It’ll be agony. It’ll kill me. But if that’s what she wants, I’ll accept it.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Give me thirty minutes.”
She hangs up, and I pace.
This will be fine. I’ll talk to her, explain what I’ve done, and she’ll be angry, but she’ll understand. I did this for her. It’s all for her. And I truly don’t care if she leaves without me, just as long as she gets away from him.
It’s twenty minutes when a knock sounds on the door.
I open it, and pain thuds into my nose. I stumble back, falling into the kitchen, my back hitting the edge of the kitchen island.
“Ethan Defender,” Ranger announces, and through the haze of pain, I watch him kick the front door closed behind him. “You dirty fucking rat.”
I grip the counter and pull myself to my feet. He throws another punch, but I dodge it, burying my knuckles in his jaw. It’s like hitting solid brick. He takes a single step back, then seizes my next punch and headbutts me.
Pain explodes across my face. I hit the floor, a gasp spitting blood across the tiles.
“You may be a fighter, Ethan, but so am I. And I had to fight dirty,” Ranger says, gripping my t-shirt. He pulls my torso off the ground and throws another punch into my face. Pain collides with agony, and blood fills my mouth. “There were no rules in those fights,” he whispers. “And if that isn’t a lesson about life, I don’t know what fucking is.” He releases me, and my back meets the ground. I turn onto my side, groaning as I pull myself across the floor. “Nuh-uh.” His shoe thuds into my ribs, and something cracks. He kicks me again. And again. “You stay right fucking there and tell me why you thought making a deal with Adler was a good idea.”
I blink through the pain. That’s impossible. He can’t know that.
“Archer Adler, right?” he asks, dropping into a crouch. “He’s Sebastian’s brother, isn’t he?” I can’t speak through the pain and shock. Archer said he’d protect me, protect Denver. “What was the deal? You tell them Denver killed Wyatt, and then she has no choice but to turn on me? Then you can both ride off happily into the sunset together? Did you think I’d ever fucking let that happen?”
I spit blood onto the ground to clear my mouth. “Denver doesn’t know I?—”
“Don’t you think I know that?” He slaps me. “Do you think she’d ever betray me? Do you even know the woman you’re fighting for?” He stands, and I turn back onto my side. My heart collides with my chest when I hear a knife being pulled out of the knife block. “Now, Denver asked me not to kill you, but that was before I found out about this deal. And I think even she will understand why I had to.” He grins as he flips the knife in his hand, catching it by the handle again. “She might take a few months to get over how I do it, though.” I stare up at him, eyes widening. “I see fear. Good boy.”
I pull myself to my feet, ignoring the pain in my ribs and face, but it still slows me down. The first sweep of the knife is like liquid heat spreading through my skin. I spin and barrel my shoulder into his stomach. It’s like pushing against cement, but I throw him into the wall. He thrusts out the knife, narrowly missing me, and I seize his wrist, twisting it. My fist lands in his face again and again, blood spurting from his nose.
“I can fight dirty, too,” I whisper, snatching the knife and burying it into his shoulder.
There’s more resistance than I expect. It feels thick, tough, and I stumble back, the sensation turning my stomach.
Ranger is against the wall, panting, his face bloodied, droplets of red landing on his shirt. The knife is sticking out of his shoulder. He looks at the handle, then at me.
“I got shot two hours ago, Ethan,” he says, gripping the handle and yanking it out. He grimaces and chucks the weapon aside, the metal clattering against the kitchen floor. “You think a knife is going to do anything?”
I dart for the kitchen drawer, yanking it open and taking out the weapon I never thought I’d need. I point the gun at Ranger, and he grins, erupting into laughter as his head drops back against the wall.
“Look at you,” he says, his smile wicked. “Golden boy got his hands on a gun.”
I flick off the safety. “Get out of my house, or I’ll shoot you.”
He waves a hand dismissively. “Shoot me, Ethan, because if I walk out the door, it’s only to get more sharp things to hurt you with.” He straightens up off the wall and winces as he rolls his shoulder. He wipes the blood from his nose, examining his fingers. “I’m almost impressed. It’s been a long time since someone got me to bleed like this. I’d hire you if you hadn’t fucked my wife.”
My shoulders dip. “What?”
“Oh, right.” He clicks his fingers. “You don’t know this yet. Denver and I are getting married. Isn’t that fun? Well, not for you.” He takes a step forward. “I proposed to her after I fucked her a few hours ago.” This pain is worse than the ache in my face. My heart breaks, and it’s fucking pathetic that it does. Am I really surprised? It was always him. Always fucking him. He watches me with disgust. Disdain. Like I’m nothing to him. “Did you really think you could be with her? Do you have any idea what it takes to look after a woman like Denver?”
I adjust my grip on the gun. “I know I made her happier in ten days than you did in six years. And I know you’ve broken into my house and attacked me, and I have every right to shoot you. And something tells me not many people will miss a drug-dealing piece of shit like you.”
He searches my eyes, a smirk tugging on his smile. “I don’t know whether to admire your bravery or pity your stupidity when you speak to me the way you do.”
“I doubt you’ll ever feel anything close to admiration when you think about me, Ranger,” I say. “And call me stupid, but I won’t respect a man who doesn’t deserve it.”
“Respect is loose change. Fear is what matters. Fear is always what matters.” A knock fills the silence.
And now I’m smirking. “That’ll be your wife, Ranger.”