Finding Us

by S. K. Hartley

  My gaze flickered to the dorm room door, I knew Tate was going to walk through it any second. God, Tate. What had I done? I had given him no warning, just ran from Logan’s apartment without a word, leaving everyone behind without a thought. Pulling myself from my damn pity party, I furiously started throwing the rest of my essentials into my case. Clothes: only jeans and loose fitting t-shirts. Shoes: mostly Chucks or black boots. I’m moved in robotic mode: get my shit and then get the hell out of there.

  Stepping around my bed, I picked up the only family photo in my possession. It was a picture of my mom and me ten years ago, not long before we ran. We had been running for so long, never settling, only passing through. The longer I stayed in one place, the easier it became to be found. I couldn’t be found, I wouldn’t be found. But, this time, it looked like I had been found and it could cost me my life, and the people around me.

  I could hear heavy footsteps making their way down the corridor of my floor, the sound throwing me off for a moment. I was sure it was going to be Tate, but the sound coming from the footsteps weren’t Tate’s, but I recognized them instantly. Ace.

  Fuck.

  I quickly threw the photo frame into the case on my bed before reaching underneath the bed for my mason jar. My little jar of hearts. Kissing the glass briefly, I placed it into the case, shutting the lid and zipping it up. Just as I pulled it from the bed, I heard the distinctive click from my door. I closed my eyes and waited.

  “You have got nine minutes until he walks through this damn door. Explain. Now,” Ace growled as he slammed my door shut, walking towards me.

  Ace had a quality that wasn’t to everyone’s taste: opinionated, vain, cocky and honest… mostly. But what people didn’t see was his protective side; it’s instinct and most of the time necessary. Ace was misunderstood, deemed to be this big, scary guy who was hard on the outside and soft on the inside. Ace wasn’t soft, anywhere. Neither of us were, that’s how we had been brought up.

  No, dragged up.

  I opened my eyes, but I didn’t make eye contact with him. I didn’t need to say anything, my silence alone would give away what was going on, that or the small suitcase in my right hand.

  “Oh shit,” he whispered.

  Oh shit. Yeah, that sort of sums everything up. It’s time, it has been for a while now, but I wasn’t ready to accept it. But the phone call confirmed everything. It’s time to run, and I couldn’t look back.

  We stayed silent for minutes, the realization of what was about to happen building tension in the room so thick, you could slice right through it.

  “Little Willow, look at me,” Ace whispered, stepping closer into the room.

  “Don’t call me that!” I boomed, the rage associated with that name boiled to the surface, and I could feel my restraint breaking.

  “Raise your voice to me again, Low, and I will take you over my god damn knee. Now, look at me!” Ace growled, stepping even closer than he was before.

  My eyes quickly snapped to his. I wish they hadn’t. Every time I looked in those eyes, I remembered the day when he came for us, the day we ran. When people looked into his eyes, all they saw was the dark brown irises staring back at them. What I saw was years of pain, obedience, blood and even death. Now, in that moment, all I saw was awareness. Awareness of me? The situation? Or that we stood in a room together alone, actually acknowledging who we were for the first time in over six years?

  “Take another step, and I will blow that growl right off of your god damn face,” I sneered, my fingertips brushing against the Glock sitting in the waistband of my jeans. Always prepared.

  Ace raised his right brow at me and smirked. Arrogant piece of shit. “Try it,” he grunted, taking the last step between us.

  He was so close I could feel his breath against the skin of my forehead as he towered over my small frame, but I wasn’t intimidated. I was anything but, but his closeness took me back to when we just kids, dragged up into a fucked up adult world.

  “Do you still remember where I hide my Glock?” I asked in a calm, collected voice, cocking my brow at him. My trusty Glock, it had been with me ever since he pulled me out of the disgusting, vile place I was hiding in. When you come from our background, you learn to have a weapon on your body, no exceptions. My Glock was pushing against the skin of my waist, the familiar pressure a welcome feeling, but at the same time terrifying.

  Ace chuckled as he quickly stuck his right hand in the waistband of my jeans, pulling out my trusty Glock by the grip and scratching the barrel against the stubble on his chin. “I always remember,” he said seriously.

  Stupid man. “Now, do you remember the weight difference between a loaded and unloaded Glock?” I laughed as I watched his brows furrow, weighing my Glock in his hand. I took advantage of his confusion as he started to pull out the magazine, bending down I pulled out a second Glock from my ankle strap and pointed it straight between Ace’s eyes.

  “What the fuck?!” Ace blinked, and I couldn’t help but smirk. But he quickly regained his composure. “Get that fucking barrel away from my face. Quickly. We have shit to discuss!” he barked.

  My confidence wavered, and I placed the Glock back into my ankle holster. It seemed over the years we had changed: Ace had forgotten what the weight of a loaded gun feels like and I had lost my hard outer shell. This wasn’t good.

  Ever since my family reunion with Dominic I had been carrying my weapon, always hidden from sight but most definitely there. The people around me needed protecting from the demons of my past. That included Ace too.

  “Your momma still in Vegas?” he pushed; he clearly wasn’t going to drop the subject.

  I hadn’t spoken to my mom since the night I told her she had to leave. The day Ace had come for me, he had made sure we took my mom with me. But we knew we couldn’t all stay together, it was too dangerous. I missed her like hell, but we had to do it to protect each other. I made sure she only used cash, shipping her off to Vegas with an alias, one that should get her by for at least a year. So I hoped.

  “Last time I checked, but I need a pre-paid, I need to get the message to her,” I whispered, the words sliding off my tongue like second nature. This was me, all of me. The fucked up girl with the fucked up family.

  “I’ll deal with it,” Ace grunted, abruptly ending my self pity.

  He was doing it again, trying to protect the people he shouldn’t. What he was doing had consequences, and his actions could cost him his life. I wasn’t prepared to let him carry on doing it; he had been doing it for far too long.

  “No, Ace. I will deal with it. I need you to stay here and help with damage control,” I said. I needed to deal with this, not him.

  “Damage control? Are you fucking serious, Low? This won’t be damage control, this will be fucking chaos. You need to deal with it before you leave. Talk to him, but don’t think for a second you can take him with you. You can’t give him that. You can’t give him the option to go with you; he can’t see what we see.” He stared pointedly at me, like a god damn child and it boiled my blood.

  “Don’t you dare talk to me like a petulant child, Ace. You do remember who the hell we are dealing with here? You remember my father and my brother, right? I know I can’t take him with me, I know that. But what the fuck am I going to tell him when he asks me why I have to leave without him? I can’t just tell him who I am, Ace. You know I can’t do that!”

  This was becoming messy. I didn’t do messy, I couldn’t do messy. My heart practically lunged from chest cavity with lightning speed, lodging itself within my throat as I heard the audible gasp from behind Ace. My knees buckled, and I had to find strength from deep within to keep standing on my own two feet. Ace slowly stepped to the side, crossing his arms in front of his chest and keeping his eyes directed to the floor. It was a stance I was all too familiar with.

  Standing in the doorway of my dorm room was Tate, his skin pale and his eyes showcasing the utter fear and dread I had been accustomed to seeing for years.
I held back the lump that formed in my throat, trying to settle where my heart was already lodged, fighting for front row seats to the biggest clusterfuck of the century. I could only wait, hoping Tate hadn’t heard what I had all but screamed at Ace. But I knew otherwise. His face morphed from fear to complete rage within a matter of seconds.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Tate boomed, taking another step into the room and slamming the door shut with the back of his heel.

  The loud bang vibrated through every bone in my body as the door slammed into place. I hesitated. I was mentally about to slip the mask back on, the one I had perfected over the years of hiding. But I knew I couldn’t hide behind it anymore. Tate knew more than he should.

  “Tate…” I started, but I was quickly cut off with a wave of his hand.

  Did he really just cut me off like that? Then it hit me. I needed to push him away; I couldn’t get him tangled up in this mess, it could prove fatal. My heart shredded inside my throat, the realization of what I was about to do consumed me. Fuck.

  Before I could utter a single word, Ace opened the hole in his face.

  “I wouldn’t cut her off like that if I were you, Tate. Take my advice: you can’t dominate a woman who can skillfully break every single bone in your body… and count with every snap.”

  My stomach dropped. Oh shit. When I cleaned this mess up, I was going to shoot Ace in the dick. Twice.

  I groaned as Tate turned back to me, confusion written all over his face. Then I saw the pain. Pure, unhidden pain danced in his eyes. Oh god. I could feel my body reacting to his pain; it was drawing me in, pushing me to take hold of him and never let him go. I ached. Ached to touch him, to hold him, to love him. I knew that if I did, it could potentially kill him.

  “What the hell are you talking about, Ace?” Tate spat, taking a step towards him.

  Ace’s stance turned hard. I couldn’t help but gasp as the memory of just what Ace could do to another person flashed in front of my eyes. Utter torture.

  “Don’t, Ace. You do and I will blow your dick off,” I growled.

  Tate’s eyes flashed with venom, and the realization of what I had just said sunk in. Tate probably thought I was sleeping with Ace. Tate had no idea that I had a Glock in my ankle strap. Hell, he didn’t know anything about Willow Knoxx.

  “You son of a bitch!” Tate shouted, his voice filling the tension filled room.

  Tate’s face had morphed into something I hadn’t seen for a very long time: absolute hatred. Before I could think, I jumped in front of Ace. Throwing my arms out either side of me, protecting Tate. He didn’t realize just what Ace could do if pushed, and Ace was holding on by the thinnest of threads.

  “Little Willow. Move. I might have to snap him in half,” Ace growled into my ear.

  I kept my stance; if I moved, Tate was going to leave this room in a body bag. I wasn’t having any more lives on my conscious, especially the man who owned me mind, body, and soul.

  “No,” I grunted.

  “Little Willow? Only your mother calls you Willow,” Tate spat in distaste, as if he had just sucked on a sour lemon.

  The tension rose higher with every passing second that I didn’t respond. What the hell do I tell him? I couldn’t tell him everything; if I did, it would be the worst decision of my life. But I had to tell him something. Should I let him believe I was sleeping with Ace, just to protect him? It would hurt him, but if he knew the truth, it could potentially ruin him. I made the split second decision, and I only hoped I didn’t regret it.

  “No, Tate. My mother isn’t the only one who calls me Willow. People I have been hiding from also call me that,” I whispered, the words tasting vile in my mouth.

  “Who are you?” he said breathlessly.

  Here goes.

  “My name is Willow Knoxx, daughter and heir to the Knoxx family business. I’m a trained killer. I can shoot a moving target quicker than you could blink, I can put a grown ass man on his fucking knees with just my index finger, and I could do things with a pocket knife that would turn your stomach.”

  Silence.

  Dead silence.

  Tate’s eyes widened, and as I turned to Ace, I couldn’t help but notice the thick vein that throbbed against the skin of his neck. The room was tense, so tense I almost couldn’t stand it.

  “The fuck…” Tate whispered, shaking his head. “I… I… don’t understand. What the fuck is going on? Some explain this to me. Slowly.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Willow, be careful what you let slip here,” Ace grunted, raising his brow.

  “Ace, shut that fucking hole!” I growled, rubbing the tight muscles in the back of my neck.

  “You know what could happen if you say too much, don’t turn this into the mess that I had to deal with.” Ace sighed. The pain of what he had endured during our teenage years flashed across his hard face.

  “I’m still fucking here, you know! Someone explain!” Tate yelled, breaking through the memories.

  I was torn. Telling Tate too much wasn’t an option, but telling him nothing wouldn’t solve anything.

  “Think, Tate. Willow. Knoxx. My last name should start ringing some bells soon enough,” I said, the tremor in my voice hard to mask.

  I didn’t want to watch when he would recognize my name. I just wanted to leave and keep the people I loved safe. But, sure enough, Tate was quick off the bat.

  “Knoxx? As in… No. It can’t be,” he whispered, his worried eyes staring right into mine.

  There it was. He knew.

  “Willow,” Ace warned, but I didn’t take any notice. I didn’t want to.

  “Jaxson Knoxx? Jaxson Knoxx the, the… Fuck!” Tate growled.

  Tate suddenly turned, crashing both of his fists into the door with a loud bang. He finally got it. He understood who I was, and all I felt was pure shame. This was why I hid, this was why I didn’t want him to be here when I left. I couldn’t stay and fix this. I had to leave.

  As if Ace could read my thoughts, he suddenly broke through the thick tension of the room. “It’s time.”

  Tate suddenly whirled around, anger flaring in his eyes as he looked at Ace with distaste.

  “It’s time for what?” he growled, stepping towards me.

  His gaze locked with mine before dropping down and landing on the suitcase that sat on my bed; he would understand soon enough.

  “I’m coming with you,” he grunted, grabbing my case and pulling it from the bed.

  “What?”

  “Are you fucking crazy?!” Ace and I shouted at the same time.

  Tate didn’t say a single word. He only walked towards the door with my case in his hand.

  Before I could even think, I dived for my ankle strap and pulled out my secondary Glock, aiming it right at the man I loved. My hand tightened around the grip as Tate turned towards me. His eyes flashed with fear, and a gasp left my mouth as I realized what I was doing. It was kill or be killed: he needed to understand exactly what that meant.

  “Low,” he said breathlessly before shaking his head. “Baby, what are you doing?”

  “I’m doing what has to be done, Tate.” I sighed, but quickly regained my composure as I signaled for him to move from the door with the Glock. “You will do exactly what I say, and I don’t want any arguments about this. I will shoot you, Tate.”

  “Fuck,” Ace whispered, moving to my side and bending so his mouth lingered by the shell of my ear. “Give him enough so it won’t hurt too much, but don’t give him too much. You know the drill.”

  With that, Ace left the room. He would be waiting outside the door, making sure no one could disturb us. Too many people were involved already.

  “Bab-”

  “No, Tate. I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.” I waited, seconds went by before Tate nodded in defeat before taking a step to the right.

  “Okay,” he mumbled, confusion written all over his face.

  “You know who my father is, but you only kno
w a small percentage of what he can do. His name is splashed all over the media, but they can’t ever get anything to stick. There’s a reason for that, Tate. They can’t get his ass in jail because he has judges and governors on his payroll. He’s untouchable, Tate. If you get in his way… you will also become untouchable, unreachable, and completely unfindable.”

  “But I can help you,” he begged, but it was no use: no one could help me now.

  “Help me? Tate, I have been running for six years, running from him. I am the sole heir to the family business. He is coming for me, Tate. Too much blood has been spilled. I won’t be responsible for any more,” I whispered, the memories I had kept locked away in the far recesses of my mind slowly started to filter though.

  “Any more?” he asked, the hesitation evident in his voice.

  “I am the daughter of a mafia boss, Tate. Don’t ignore Ace’s warning. Blood has been shed, and some has come from my very own hands.”

  I watched as the cogs turned, waiting for Tate’s reaction. Sure enough, the cogs slowly clicked into place, and rotated slowly.

  “Who is he?”

  “Who is who?” I asked nonchalantly. I knew this was coming, but I didn’t know if he could handle the truth.

  “Don’t fuck around with me… shit, I don’t even know what to call you! Do I call you Willow or Low?”

  I winced. He was hurting, badly. I couldn’t comfort him; if I did, it would only make things harder, much harder than they already were.

  “My name doesn’t really hold any importance, Tate. But you wanted to know who Ace is?” I asked, trying to divert his anger.

  He nodded.

  “Ace Mathews is an alias. His real name is Jace Rowe.”

  Tate’s eyes bugged out at the mention of Ace’s last name. He was quicker than I thought he would be.

  “What the fuck?!”

  His hands flew into his hair, and pulled tight. Yeah, my sentiments exactly. It was public knowledge who Ace’s family was too, they were just like mine. Completely fucked up.