by Tate James
My lips parted to explain more of my relationship with Chase, how he'd made me fall in love with him, how I'd let our fathers push us into an engagement right before my fifteenth birthday, how Chase had slowly morphed into a goddamn fucking monster thanks to his free and easy access to drugs. But no words would leave my tongue. They just froze there, trained to stay silent from years of denial and suppression.
Eventually I closed my eyes and took a moment to regroup. A warm hand crept into my lap, linking fingers with my fingers and giving a reassuring squeeze. Lucas.
Letting my lids open once more, I gave him a small smile, then skipped straight ahead in my story to the part I knew I could tell. The part that I'd well and truly hardened my heart over.
"I did something stupid when I was eighteen," I told them, swallowing heavily against the rising tide of emotion. "I fucked up, and as a result Seph almost paid the price. Our father listed her for sale on a darknet site that dealt in what they considered top tier human auctions. Through some investigation, I discovered that this wasn't the first time my father had dealt in stolen girls. He and the Lockhart family had been smuggling countless children into the country for years. But the part that flipped my switch was when I discovered it'd been Chase, my fucking fiancé, who had given Garrett—or Fang as he liked to be called—the idea to sell Seph to remind Darling who really holds the power."
A deep shudder ran through me as I heard Chase's voice so damn clear in my mind. Apparently, I wasn't as closed off to those memories as I'd thought.
After a long pause, Cass cleared his throat and leaned forward on his forearms. "So you killed them all." It wasn't a question, because he'd been deep enough into the Reapers by then that he would’ve seen the aftermath with his own eyes.
Refusing to feel guilt over what I'd done, I raised my chin and met his eyes. "I did. With some help. I personally shoved a knife in my father’s back during a Timberwolf monthly meeting, then slit his throat. Chase wasn't there, though. Somehow, he'd found out what I had planned, and none of the Lockharts were at the meeting like they were supposed to be."
Lucas's hand still gripped mine, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him as I spoke. I couldn't handle seeing fear in his eyes as he heard about my pivotal moment in becoming Hades. It was much easier to speak directly to Cass, who stared back at me with a totally unreadable expression. What he really thought of my actions... it was a mystery. I was fine with that, for now.
"So, I left my backup to execute the Timberwolf massacre, then Zed and I went hunting. We caught up to Chase in the Lockhart manor. He was packing his shit, cleaning out the family safe, and there was a helicopter waiting for him on the lawn, ready to whisk him away to safety. He wasn't even taking the rest of his family with him, just looking after himself. As usual." Bitterness burned through my veins like acid, and I shook my head to clear the vivid, blood-soaked memories from my mind.
It was no use, though. Over and over I saw myself shooting Chase's father in the face after I kicked the door in. I saw the arc of blood splattering the white marble tiles as I yanked my dagger from Eleanor Lockhart's throat after she tried to attack me from behind. I heard the screams of terror and the pleas for mercy that fell on my deaf ears. I smelled raw, hot flesh and the acidic tang of disembowelment.
"Long story short," Zed took over for me, his leg pressed firmly against mine and his gaze intense on my face, "Chase put up a hell of a fight, but ultimately we won. Dare put a bullet straight in his face, then dragged me out of the house while calling for help."
"What had happened to you?" Lucas asked in a quiet, husky voice. This story was definitely taking the edge off his buzz.
Zed leaned back in his chair and lifted his shirt up to display his toned chest. Carefully, one by one, he ran his fingertip over the thirteen individual scars, each an inch long and all hidden by his tattoos.
"That bastard stabbed me half to death," he told Lucas before tugging his shirt back down. His eyes returned to mine, and I no longer had a voice to say all the things I'd always wanted to say about that night.
Silence fell around the table for a tense moment, then Cass scraped his chair back from the table and ambled into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a bottle of Scotch and four glasses. Wordlessly he poured a heavy splash into each, then handed them out to us.
"I understand the Lockhart manor exploded that night," the big guy rumbled, still totally expressionless. "Gas leak."
I jerked a nod, swallowing half my glass in one mouthful.
"The gas line was damaged in our fight," Zed elaborated. "We had no idea."
Another gulp of Scotch and I started getting more of a grip on my spiraling emotions. "And now Chase is apparently back," I told them in a hollow voice. "Zed and I didn't believe it, so we dug up his grave last week."
Lucas choked on his drink.
Cass's brows rose in surprise. "And?"
I shrugged. "And it was empty."
He ruffled a hand over his semi-mohawked hair. "Doesn't mean he's alive."
"Also doesn't mean he's not alive," I countered, reaching for the bottle of Scotch. "The evidence keeps stacking up. The personal notes, blowing up 7th Circle with a gas leak, kidnapping Lucas... There's no way it can be anyone else."
Cass grimaced. "It seems that way, but maybe that's deliberate."
"Does it matter?" Lucas asked, jerking my attention over to him. His fingers were still twined together with mine under the table, and it didn't seem like he wanted to let go any time soon. So... that was something.
"How fucking stoned are you?" Zed asked, an edge of anger to his voice. "Of course it matters. Or did you forget how you got taken, tortured, and almost killed less than a week ago?"
Lucas flinched at Zed's harsh tone, and anger flared up hot inside me. "Zed, cut it out."
"Believe me, Zed," Lucas snapped back, clearly having had enough of his bullshit, "that's not something I'm going to forget in a hurry. But does it actually matter whether this is Chase himself or someone else acting out a vengeance plot in his name? The end result is the same, right? We're going to hunt this sick fuck down and make him pay. Aren't we?"
The raw determination in his tone made my jaw drop, and I stared at Lucas in shock. That... hadn't been how I’d thought he'd react.
Zed snorted a laugh, shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his chest like his old scars were aching. "Yeah, Gumdrop. That's exactly what we're gonna do. Make that fucker pay."
21
Unsurprisingly, my sleep was fraught with nightmares of the past. I'd wanted to be alone after spilling all those memories for Cass and Lucas, but after the fourth time I woke with my heart racing and my skin coated in cold sweat, I admitted defeat.
Silently, without turning any lights on, I made my way down the hall from the guest room I'd claimed and visited the bathroom. Not even ice-cold water on my face helped me stop trembling, though.
With a quiet groan of frustration, I made my way downstairs. It was only a few hours before dawn; I may as well just wake up properly and hit the gym. All the sex in the world wasn't going to keep me in shape if I kept skipping training like I had been in the last few weeks.
To my surprise, the living room was lit by the flickering blue light of the TV, and I found Zed sprawled out on the couch in front of it. He looked up from where his head was propped on the arm of the sofa when I approached, his eyes just as haunted as I felt.
"Hey," he murmured, reaching out a hand in invitation.
I took it and climbed onto the sofa with him, snuggling into his warmth and letting him draw a blanket over both of us.
"What are we watching?" I asked, using his bicep as a pillow. The brunette actress on the screen looked familiar, but my sleep-deprived brain couldn't quite place her. With my luck, I'd probably just walked in on Zed watching porn or something.
He wrapped his other arm around my waist, pulling me closer into his body. "High School Musical," he mumbled, then yawned.
For a se
cond I thought he was joking, then the characters on screen started singing and dancing in the middle of a basketball court, and I snickered a laugh.
"Shh," Zed told me, "I love this part."
I didn't need to make fun of him out loud; he knew I was doing it inside my head. So I just relaxed into his hold and watched the ridiculous G-rated movie about singing and dancing high school basketballers.
Zed was onto something, though. I drifted into sleep easily there on the couch with him, and only woke slightly when the movie ended and he switched the TV off.
"Go back to sleep," he whispered when I yawned. His arm returned to my waist, hugging me tight as his face rested against my neck. Maybe it was my groggy, sleep-hazed imagination, but his lips brushed my skin in a kiss that seemed unusually intimate.
I didn't question it, though. I just leaned into his embrace and let the fog of exhaustion pull me under once more as Zed whispered more words that I couldn't make out.
In the light of morning, things almost seemed better. I'd woken up still wrapped in Zed's arms on the couch, and he'd dropped all the bitchy attitude of the past few days. He got up with a yawn and stretch, then dropped a quick kiss on my hair before announcing he'd cook breakfast.
Maybe he just needed a chill session with good weed and shitty kids’ movies to level out his bad temper every now and then. I'd remember that.
Somehow, I was totally unsurprised when Cass rolled up on his motorcycle as Zed was sliding a plate of bacon and eggs under my still half-asleep nose.
Zed didn't comment, just buzzed Cass in and served up another plate of breakfast for the big grump. Now it made sense why he'd cooked up an entire tray of eggs.
"Morning, Grumpy Cat," I teased when Cass entered the kitchen.
He shot me an amused look, sliding his jacket off his arms and dropping it over the back of a chair like he fucking lived here. "Morning, Red," he replied, then swooped down to kiss me. His fingers slid into the back of my messy hair, gripping my head tight in a silent reminder of how rough he was in the bedroom. And how much I loved it.
Zed cleared his throat deliberately, reminding us we weren't alone, but Cass was in no hurry to let me go. Hell, I could almost feel the amusement rolling from him as he continued to kiss me senseless for another few seconds before letting go. It gave me a small stab of guilt to kiss Cass like that when Zed had displayed concerns about this new relationship, but part of me wanted to push him. Force him to either speak up or shut up.
"De Rosa," Cass said with a husky voice, swiping his thumb over his glistening lower lip. "Sorry man, didn't see you there."
Zed's glare said exactly how much he believed that bullshit. "And here I was about to give you breakfast. Probably just changed my mind."
Cass slid into a seat and reached for the plate of bacon and eggs. "Don't be a sore loser, Zed."
Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. I gave Cass a hard glare, but he didn't react, just took a forkful of his eggs.
Zed didn't lose his shit like he would have yesterday, though. He just snickered a conspiratorial laugh and shook his head. "Can't lose when you're still in the race, Saint."
An uncomfortable feeling crept through me, and I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "I don't know what the fuck you two are talking about"—or I damn well hoped I didn't—"but it's too early for bullshit. So cut it the fuck out."
Zed poured a mug of coffee and held it out to me with a smirk. "Yes, sir." The mocking tone was there, as it always was, and his fingers seemed to linger longer than necessary against mine when I took the mug. Weirdo. No doubt he was playing territorial games with Cass, because it amused him to rile up the older gang leader.
"Where's Gumdrop this morning?" Cass asked between bites of breakfast.
I settled in with my own food, tasting the parmesan and chives Zed had mixed into his scrambled egg. So damn good. "Still sleeping," I told him. "And don't you fucking start with the Gumdrop shit too. His name is Lucas. Get used to it; he's not going anywhere in a hurry."
Cass quirked a micro-smile in my direction. "He's a Gumdrop, Red. Get used to it."
I sent my death glare in Zed's direction, seeing as he was responsible for that name, and he just grinned back at me while sipping coffee.
"What are you doing here anyway, Saint?" Zed asked, changing the subject. "Don't you have your own gang to run? Or is your new second suddenly so competent you can retire already?"
Cass pushed his empty plate away and slouched in his chair, so fucking comfortable. "I'm here because I woke up alone in my bed with a raging hard-on and an undeniable need to see my woman."
I choked on my food. Just a little. A couple of coughs and a sip of coffee sorted me right out, but that hadn't been what I'd expected Cass to answer. Neither had Zed, apparently, because the look he leveled at Cass was pure violence.
"As for Roach," he continued, "not yet. And if retirement was a thing Reapers could do, believe me, I'd have done it already."
His irritated tone sparked curiosity in me, and I tilted my head to the side as I peered at him. "Why are you in the Reapers, Cass? Some things never quite added up to me, like why the fuck you were content to serve as second to that shitbag Zane D'Ath for so long when he was so clearly incompetent."
Cass held my gaze as he took a sip from the coffee Zed had just poured for him. "That seems a lot like insider trading, Hades, blurring the lines between entities and all that."
I rolled my eyes. "Screw off. I own the Reapers, and you damn well know it."
Lucas shuffled into the kitchen then, looking all sexy and sleep-rumpled in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. Goddamn, he was a vision, even with the bandages still stuck to his chest and bruises coloring his entire ribcage.
"Jesus, Gumdrop," Zed cringed, "that hurts to even look at. Did you put up a fight at all?"
Lucas scowled, helping himself to a coffee mug and filling it up from the fresh pot. "Unlike some people, I never went to a top-secret training camp for killers and other criminals."
My brows shot up at the angry tone of his voice, and I exchanged a quick warning glance with Zed before sliding out of my chair. "Hey, Zed was just teasing." I crossed to where he stood against the cabinets and looped my arms around his waist. The ease of that simple gesture made my pulse race, and confusion washed though me at how comfortable I'd grown around Lucas.
Lucas didn't notice my weirdness, though. He just heaved a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture that was way too sexy to be real.
"I know," he muttered, his lips slanting in a slight pout. "I'm just in a bad mood. Hearing those bits of your history last night, all the shit you and Zed went through... it's made me fully appreciate why Zed called me a liability."
I shot Zed an accusing glare, and he just shrugged, unapologetic. That only pissed me off, and I glowered. "Yeah well, tough shit," I snapped. "We can't change the past, but we're also not throwing you away. We're more than capable of keeping you safe."
Lucas grimaced. "You shouldn't have to."
"I shouldn't have to do a whole list of shit right now, Lucas, but none of them are your fault." I rose up on my toes and combed my fingers through his soft hair. "I'm sorry you got dragged into it, though."
He let out a long breath, shaking his head. "I'm not." He leaned down to kiss me but paused when Zed interrupted.
"I cooked breakfast, Gumdrop. Eat some food, then let's start dealing with your abysmal lack of fight training." Zed arched a brow at me as I let Lucas go so he could sit and eat. "We may not be able to change the past, Dare, but we can better equip him for the future."
I folded my arms and frowned. "Look at him." I indicated with my chin to the mess of bruises and dressings decorating Lucas's body. "We're not teaching him how to fight in that state."
Zed, the shithead, just gave me a challenging look. "Why not? You've trained in worse shape, and it didn't kill you."
Both Lucas and Cass gave me long looks at that comment, and I seethed. He'd put me in an i
mpossible situation there, and he damn well knew it.
"Fine," I hissed. "But when his doctor wants to blame someone for split stitches, I'll be sure to let him know that Lucas's brother is responsible."
Zed just grinned his victory, and Lucas, damn him, beamed twice as wide.
What was it with men enjoying hurting themselves?
22
Despite the happy little dynamic on that first day of Lucas's training in Zed's home gym, we all eventually needed to get back to real life. Cass still had the Reapers to run and a newly minted second to train. Zed and I had the Timberwolves and Copper Wolf to deal with, not to mention the insurance paperwork for both 7th Circle and my apartment building.
Still, Zed made time in his day, every day, to train Lucas. Considering how suspicious Zed’d been of him, it confused the hell out of me… until I saw the shrewd way Zed watched him when his back was turned. Then I remembered what he'd told me about keeping his enemies close.
Giving up on the latest stack of insurance reports I was trying to fill out, I set them aside and pushed to my feet. I'd been sitting in the corner of the gym in an armchair I'd dragged in there a week ago to try and get work done while overseeing Lucas's training, but now I was getting tired of Zed pounding on Lucas.
"Alright. Give me a go," I told Zed, kicking my shoes off. I'd gone into the Copper Wolf office this morning, so I was in full corporate clothing, including pantyhose with a sexy seam up the back.
Zed arched his brow at my outfit and gave an amused shake of his head. "Dressed like that?"
I sent him a mocking smile. "What's wrong, Zayden? Scared I'll flatten you without ruffling my blouse?"
Lucas let out a low whistle, then unstrapped his gloves as he backed away from the mats he and Zed had been gently sparring on. "Kick his ass, babe," he whispered, smacking a kiss on my cheek.
Zed rolled his eyes but sauntered over to the shelves at the side of the room to grab me a set of wraps. "I don't need Cass coming at me for you splitting your knuckles," he said, tossing them over to me.