Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
QUENTIN
T he last few weeks had felt like the longest of my entire life. I felt like I had lost the love of my life.
I hadn’t let myself feel this much pain since Leila passed away. I could turn off my feelings and let the numbness wash over me, but I didn’t feel like I deserved it.
Anora had gone through hell, and it was all my fault. The hatred I had for myself was one of the strongest things I felt.
The guilt, the anguish, the misery of being without her plagued me from the moment I woke until the moment I attempted to close my eyes. I barely slept, couldn’t eat, and bourbon was constantly seeping through my pores.
I was weak—I couldn’t handle these emotions I deserved to feel, drowning myself in alcohol to cope instead.
I went back and forth, either feeling everything all at once or not feeling anything at all. I let the memories of one of the worst days of my life begin to flood my brain again, punishing myself with them multiple times throughout the day.
During the entire ride to the warehouse where Angel was keeping Anora captive, I hadn’t been able to keep my body still, my knee bouncing so hard it seemed likely it might fall off.
“Stop fucking shaking,” Joey had barked from the driver’s seat. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”
I’d dragged my palm down my face, taking a deep breath and trying to get myself into the zone. The same zone that I got into before I went out to hunt every night. The zone that allowed me to be one with the night, stealthy and unstoppable.
The drive had felt like it took an eternity, but by the time we got there, I was calmer than I’d ever been, gun in my hand and mask covering my face.
When I walked through those doors, Joey and Brendan having taken care of the guards at the entrance, and saw Angel Santino standing above a kneeling, bruised, and beaten Anora with a gun to her head, I had never felt such rage .
All I’d seen was red, and I wouldn’t stop until havoc had been wrought, and revenge taken for her ever being put in that position.
A single shot to Angel’s forehead felt almost poetic, but I wished I had been able to take my time with him. I’d wanted to give him bruises and scars tenfold worse than Anora’s—and not stop until he was begging for his fucking mommy.
As the days pass, that visual of Anora on her knees with a gun to her head is one of the only ones that remains crystal-clear. The rest felt hazy, covered with blood and fury that didn’t feel like it was ever going to go away. Why did the women that I loved have to always be in the worst possible positions, and why was it all my fault?
Why couldn’t I keep anyone fucking safe?
I craved for the pain, the fury, the regret to drown me so I could feel nothing at all.
I felt mentally exhausted from battling with myself, and I just wanted it to end.
I had overtaken the couch since I’d been home, unable to handle sleeping in my bed, in the sheets that still smelled like Anora.
I hadn’t gone into work since we’d brought Anora home, and I figured I would have lost my job by now until Joey let it slip that he’d put in for a leave of absence for me.
So, what did I need to function for? I didn’t have to go to work, and I had put the Portland Slasher to rest. I had thought about it for some time. After Anora’s life had hung in the balance because of my choices, my stomach turned at the thought of putting on my disguise and going out into the night.
I was no longer the man I had been when I started my mission for vengeance for my sister. The thought of stopping crossed my mind more times than I could count, but what did I have to stop for? What else did life have to offer me outside of murder and cleaning the world of scum?
Anora changed my entire outlook on life and the future I had expected for myself. Now that I didn’t have that anymore, I felt like I was back to square one.
“You have got to stop spiraling, dude,” Joey said, pulling me out of the endless loop of my mind.
“Why?” I said bitterly, laying on my stomach on the couch and holding a can of beer in my hand, letting the TV blare in the background.
“Because you have a visitor and you look and smell of death,” he said with a grimace, fanning his face like the asshole he was.
Who the fuck would visit me? Someone from work? The only person besides Joey would be Brendan, who had taken a much-needed vacation. The person I wished to be at the front door wanted nothing to do with me.
There was nobody else I’d want to see or who would want to see me.
I peeled myself off the couch, scratched the full-fledged beard I’d grown, and couldn’t deny that I definitely needed a damn shower.
My eyes snapped up and met two very familiar green ones. I was surprised my knees didn’t buckle underneath me, though I would have been okay with it if they did, so I could beg for her forgiveness.
Why was she here?
Her eyes were full of pity, and I hated seeing it. I didn’t want her to feel bad for me because I had done this to myself.
“Hi,” she said, her voice breaking.
I drank her in—she looked so good. Happier than when I last saw her. I felt conflicted at the sight. I wanted her to feel only good things, but I was selfish and wanted them to be because of me.
What if it was another man who returned the light to her eyes and color to her cheeks? Would I be able to handle fully letting her go, knowing there was no chance for us to be together?
“Hey,” I finally choked out. I couldn’t stop staring at her, but she didn’t break her gaze away from me either. “Did you want to come in?” I asked, gesturing toward the living room and praying more than anything that she said yes.
“I think that would be a good idea,” she agreed.
I felt embarrassed about the state of myself and the couch—the takeout food containers and empty bottles of beer strewn everywhere; the scruff on my face and what I knew had to be a terrible smell emanating from my pores due to a recent lack of personal hygiene.
She took a seat on the big, comfy chair in the living room, and I was thankful for that small mercy she extended me.
“Did you want something to drink? Coffee? Water? Bourbon?” I asked.
She shook her head, and I saw tears brimming in her eyes. I wanted to throttle myself for being the reason behind them.
“Little moon?” I asked, kneeling slowly before her.
The dam that must have been holding her emotions back broke at my use of the nickname.
I didn’t know what to do or how to react. I wanted more than anything to pull her into my arms and console her.
But would it even be comforting to her anymore?
Fuck it.
I scooped her up in my arms and took a seat on the couch, holding her against my chest to gently rock her back and forth.
Her breathing didn’t slow; I could hear her starting to panic and hyperventilate.
“Hold on, baby,” I said as I stood up and walked us to the shower. I turned the knob to cold, hoping it would shock her back to the present.
I didn’t even know what had caused her to fall apart, and I hated it so much.
The water cascaded down both of our bodies. I sat on the floor and refused to let her out of my arms.
Eventually, her breathing slowed and the only sound between us was the water hitting the tiles and her hiccupping from crying so hard.
“I thought you gave up on me. When Angel had me in that warehouse, and the more time that passed and the longer you didn’t come, I thought you’d just decided to let me go and give up on me,” she croaked, and it broke everything inside of me to hear her say that.
“I never could—or would—give up on you, Anora.” I meant it with my entire soul. “I’m pissed that you think I could give up on someone like you, and something like us.”
“I hated you for so long after I came home, and I blamed you for everything. It took me a long time to feel like I could forgive you for what happened to me,” she went on.
I stayed silent and let her say whatever she needed to say. I didn’t want to interrupt her, and I knew how hard it must be for her to be here and admit her feelings over what had happened to me.
It gutted me to hear that she hated me, but I deserved it after what she’d been through. It pained me to realize I didn’t even know the full details.
“I’ve missed you so much, but I don’t know if I can put myself in the line of fire again for you,” she said. “I know how important your mission and avenging your sister is to you, and who would I be to ask you to give that up? But I have to do what’s right for me, and best for me, and I can’t be with a dangerous man.”
She laughed sadly before she began again. “It’s not even the killing part that bothers me as much as it’s the possibility that I’d go through something like that again. I don’t want to give you an ultimatum, Quentin—that’s not what I’m trying to do. I guess I just came here to know once and for all where you stood so I could move on and live with whatever you chose.”
I took a moment to think about what I was going to say next; it wasn’t a hard choice, but it was difficult to put my feelings for Anora into words.
“The past few weeks without you have been some of the worst of my life. I haven’t felt this lost and hopeless since I lost Leila. Living without you feels like I’m wandering on a path that leads to nowhere. You make me want to be a better man, and I’d give up anything you asked me to, especially something that puts you in danger. I would never have been able to forgive myself if you had died. Even if you don’t want to be with me, knowing you’re alive and still walking this Earth would be enough for me. You’d be the hardest thing I’d ever have to let go, but I’d do it if it was what you wanted. I love you more than I’d ever be able to explain, little moon. You are the air in my lungs and the beat of my heart.”
I felt like I was laying my entire heart on the tiles of the shower floor for her, but I didn’t care. I hated myself for not telling her how I’d felt sooner, and I wouldn’t let her question my intentions any longer.
“Oh, Quentin,” she said. She moved from my lap and kneeled before me. With water streaming down her face, she’d never looked more beautiful than in this moment, completely and utterly exposed and vulnerable. She leaned forward and kissed me tenderly and slowly, a kiss I never wanted to forget. Whether it was a goodbye or an I love you , I wanted to hold on to it.
“I love you,” she murmured as she broke away, and everything in my world felt right again. “But…”
She trailed off. It felt like the rug had been pulled from beneath me once more.
Maybe feeling my lips against hers again and the connection between our skin was enough to make her change her mind. Maybe everything that had happened had soiled what we had.
“You really stink,” she laughed, and I was already envisioning all the ways I planned to punish her later for the insult.
“Help me get clean, then, little moon,” I teased cautiously, needing her body so badly I could barely breathe. After feeling everything so intensely the last several days, all I wanted was to forget and get lost in her .
But only if she was ready to have me again. I didn’t want to push her further and faster than she was ready for.
“Hmm, how do you suppose I do that with your clothes on?” She bit her lip, already peeling her shirt over her head, and my breath caught in my throat at the sight of her bare skin. The milky, pale skin that had been unblemished before was littered with angry scars from what Angel had done to her.
I bowed my head, tearing my eyes away, knowing that I was the reason she had them. I didn’t deserve to look at her or touch her flesh again when my sins were written all over her.
I felt her hand on my cheek, and she bent down until our gazes connected and she had my full attention.
“I forgive you for what happened, Quentin. You didn’t ask for this to happen to me, and you saved my life. If you hadn’t come for me, I would be dead,” she said softly before pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.
I felt weak against what this woman made me feel and how badly life had beaten me down. But feeling her love for me through a simple, hesitant kiss made me feel like I was the strongest man alive, on top of the world, like I couldn’t be beaten down again so easily.
“I love you,” I said, and I hoped she heard everything that I wanted to say in just those three words.