Summer
Three months later
Trent
It’s done.
It’s been a week, and I keep revisiting this text. A text that should no longer hold meaning beyond the fact that I helped my best friend tear down the competition. Yet the ghost of vengeance is knocking on my door, asking why I’m not smiling.
This shouldn’t have stayed on my phone. Not because I’m covering my tracks. No point in that when my plan was exposed. Yet never confronted or acknowledged in plain words by either Atlas or the guys, as if my lies tainted nothing and everything had already been forgiven.
Deleting this text now feels like throwing away my battle armor.
“I’m sorry, brother,” I choke out, as it disappears from the screen.
Atlas must be planning something, no matter how hard he tries to hide it from me.
Link’s been checking whether Gabriel is back in the States more times than I can count.
Or maybe that’s just my mind spinning pretty little lies I can live with, a comforting story I can whisper to myself and my family in my dreams so the guilt doesn’t eat me alive.
“The guys aren’t texting back or picking up their phones.” Atlas’s voice carries from behind me with tangible heaviness. “Their locations pin them at our place.”
He grabs onto my waist, drawing me to him, and there’s a pause, a moment of contemplation while he looks at me, like he’s searching for an answer in my eyes to a question that’s unspoken. A question, I can’t figure out.
“Get in the car, honey.”
The ride back home is silent, like never before, as he tries and fails to brush this off like nothing’s happening. But my gut instinct knows better.
When Atlas makes a turn, my stomach twists into a cold knot at the sight of two black Range Rovers and a Mercedes parked outside our house, intruding among the guy’s cars and Dean’s bike.
Fuck.
Mason’s here.
But just three cars? His convoy is usually almost triple this. Is it because he’s visiting his son and considers this a safe place?
Atlas’s hand shoots for my leg, snapping my attention to him instead of my potentially impending demise, which flashes before my eyes and sends my pulse skyrocketing.
“Take off as soon as I exit the car. There’s a gun in the glove box.”
Oh, no.
“There isn’t. I took it out last week when your car was in for maintenance and forgot to put it back.”
“Honey . . .”
“I know! I’m sorry.”
He catches my hand, placing the car key inside my palm, with concern etched between his brows. But the way he scans the congregation of cars tells me his worry is not only about keeping me safe.
“Does this usually happen?” I ask, gulping down my fear.
“No. It doesn’t. Last week’s problems plus the fact I kept declining his summons . . . When he’s pissed, someone pays the price.”
Oh, God! I did this. All of this.
Careful what you wish for, right?
“We’re going inside together,” I say, covering his hand.
“No, we’re not! You’re taking the car and leaving this place.”
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
A wrong-head-to-neck-ratio goon knocks on the driver’s side window and points for us to get inside, halting our argument for a moment.
“Just fuckin’ drive away when I get out of the car.”
“Are you in danger? Are the guys in danger?”
“I’m not . . .” His reassurance trails off there.
The guys are family now. I can’t let anything happen to them.
Death, if you can hear me, I’m in a committed relationship now, so if you could please try not to bang me anymore, or worse—decide to keep me—I’d really appreciate it.
Opening the car door, I step outside, only to look back and find Atlas’s face paling at what I’ve done, like I’ve just put a fully loaded gun to my temple, ready to play Russian roulette.
He rushes to my side, forcing me to walk behind him, his body—my shield.
“I’d kill him before I let him hurt you. You got that?” he says in a quiet, yet firm tone, squeezing my hand to further drive his words.
My body drains of life when I spot Gabriel Bennett close to our front door, and a single tremor of my hand warns Atlas of what’s happening to me on the inside.
With my face partially hidden by my hair and buried in the sleeve of his jacket, I pass Gabriel by, while he and Atlas acknowledge each other by their last names.
My boyfriend grabs the handle of the front door, but then he halts, pulling me closer to him until my front is flush with his.
“Don’t show weakness! He’ll use it against you. I love you!” he offers like a battle cry.
The moment I step inside, I find all the guys gathered around the dining table, and at the center sits him.
He’s smiling, white teeth perfectly arranged, bright green eyes, dark hair styled so precisely that not a single strand dares move.
Even from across the room, you can tell his suit is custom-made and worth a fortune.
But he could only ever look good in it if he were in a coffin.
On the surface, Mason looks like anything but a monster. Yet I’ve seen what hides behind that smile, and how bone-chilling his laughter can be.
I should probably thank the adrenaline for keeping my face from turning blanched, but it’s my rage—simmering just under the surface, clawing to break free—that won’t let fear take over.
“Hello, son!”
Hearing Mason’s voice rattles me to the core, but I keep a straight face.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?”
Atlas squeezes my hand, prompting me to look away from the culprit of my nightmares.
“Summer, that’s my father—”
“Where’s Bear?” I interrupt Atlas the moment I can’t see my dog anywhere around me.
Bear would’ve pulled the meat off Mason’s bones.
“Was Bear the mutt that attacked me?” My blood freezes in an instant. “Next time you get a dog, make sure it recognizes who owns it. It’s in the bedroom,” Mason says matter-of-factly, flicking his hand in the air as a pointer.
I look back at my boyfriend, shattering inwardly, knowing this monster found a way to hurt me again.
Atlas’s minuscule shake of his head is a warning for me to keep it together, not go there, but I ignore him as I try to rip my hand from his firm grip. He doesn’t let go until I pin him with my stare, and he does.
I rush ahead, each step taken in denial of what’s happening, refusing to believe that another thing I love has been snatched away by that same man who already took so much.
“What the fuck did you do to my dog?”
Atlas’s voice travels from behind me, but when the blood trail starts, all sound loses meaning.
I swing the bedroom door open, not hearing or caring about Mason’s response, holding this misguided hope that Bear will come running to me, toppling me over—that’s how big he’s become.
Hearing nothing else, I’m left staring at my dog’s body on the carpet, his blood soaked into the fibers around him. I clamp a hand over my mouth to smother the sound that wants to tear out of me, and my fingers go numb.
My legs carry me forward without permission, and they give out as I crumble beside Bear’s lifeless body.
Tears won’t bring him back, but they still blur my vision and spill down my cheeks. I squeeze my eyes shut, like not seeing will make this less real, grief hollowing me out, leaving me breathless, shaking, broken.
“Bear?” I bury my palms into his soft black fur, like that’s going to stir him, wake him up.
Atlas is shouting from the other room, but the words pass me by without registering any meaning. This won’t bring my dog back. Nothing ever done or said can bring him back.
Then the room goes quiet in that unnatural way, like the world stepped back and left me alone with him.
A hand snakes around my waist, lifting me to my feet. It’s Dean who keeps me steady once I’m up, still staring at my dead dog.
“You can’t let him see you like this.” He moves to face me, erasing my tears with his thumb. “Look at me.” Dean’s voice sounds so gentle, luring me into settling my eyes on him, rather than on Bear, but I still can’t do that. “Summer . . .”
One of his hands stays on my waist, while the other sweeps my hair back, settling on the small of my neck, but my gaze stays pinned on my dog. Before I can realize what’s happening, Dean’s lips are on mine, his body pressed firmly against my own.
I don’t know how many seconds pass by before I register what’s happening and actually react.
Pushing him away, the sadness that was overwhelming me a moment ago dissipates and is now a full-blown madness, forming into a fist, pointed at Dean for daring to kiss me.
I don’t get to land a blow on his face because he intercepts it with his hand.
“That’s it. Get angry! You can’t let him see your tears.” Oh! This is his bizarre way of helping? “If he sees weakness, he’ll use it against you.”
“Sis, Ace is distracting him, but you have to—”
“I’ll take care of her. Get back in there!” Dean cuts Carter off, who’s at the doorway, eyes full of worry. He nods before leaving.
My focus shifts back to Bear’s lifeless body, and a confession claws its way out of my throat.
“He keeps taking everything from me.”
Dean pulls me into his embrace, pressing a kiss atop my head.
“I know . . . We know. But you have to pull yourself together. Summon that inner freak of yours, my fire! Show him what you’re made of!”
There’s so much warmth in the way he looks at me when his thumb sweeps gently under my eyes, and he tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
They all keep telling me not to show weakness, to pull myself together. That, I can do!
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.
“That’s it.” Dean holds my chin up, forcing my gaze to meet his. “Good girl!”
“Don’t insult me!”
The corners of his lips tilt in amusement before he leans in, nuzzling his mouth against my ear as he whispers.
“I’m not gonna let him lay a finger on you. None of us will.”
But instead of pulling away, he kisses my cheek.
What the fuck is happening?
Connor has kissed my cheeks, and so has Carter a hundred times already, but Dean never does that.
“Go get started on the cooking to distract yourself,” he says, letting his hands fall down, releasing me from his embrace.
I sidestep him, but then I stop before I’m out of the room.
“Thank you,” I utter over my shoulder, forcing myself not to glance at Bear.
Dean turns to face me, lips parting but staying silent when his gaze shifts away from me.
Heading for the kitchen, I notice Jacob is there at the table, along with the guys. I was too preoccupied staring at Mason to see anything else, but Atlas’s cousin gracing us with his company is a shocker on its own.
My boyfriend’s eyes find mine in a silent question of whether I’m holding on.
I offer a reassuring nod, a lie I could never sell.
He’s standing next to the table, but I know his eyes are following me unremittingly.
I refuse to look at him again, too scared he might see how not okay I am, though I’m sure he knows it.
Mason orders Atlas to sit, but he doesn’t obey. When I look back at the table, the monster turns his attention to me. That act alone makes my boyfriend pull out a chair, submitting to his father’s demand.
Gripping the countertop with my shaky hands, I try to steady myself, drag my thoughts away from the current grim reality, and figure out a quick meal, in hopes of getting Mason out of this place fast. But I know this is no ordinary dinner, and not all of us might be walking out in one piece.