My chest feels too tight. For the first time since I walked back into his life, the polished edge of his voice is gone and there’s only raw pain there. The side of Eli that only I ever saw, the ragged edges and harsh truth. I don’t know if I can trust it, but fuck, I want to. “Is it the truth?”
“Would you believe it if I said it was?”
I don’t know. I’ve spent eight years being driven by Eli’s betrayal. His old man didn’t surprise me; Deacon Walsh always was a mean son of a bitch, and he and my father never saw eye to eye on anything for all that Deacon was his second-in-command. That betrayal stung, but nowhere near as much as Eli’s. It’s not like we were kids. He was twenty-fucking-eight when this shit went down.
I didn’t expect to miss him so much. I sure as fuck didn’t expect for that feeling to get stronger now that he’s back in my life. We’re different people than we were eight years ago, but somehow we still fit. It doesn’t make any damn sense to me. I should want to string him up and leave him for dead for what he did, but I can’t help wondering if Harlow is right.
If there’s some way to salvage this.
Love or hate, trust or not, I’ve never been able to claw out the part of me that cares far too much for Eli Walsh.
To buy myself time, I grab two mugs and pour us each one before I pass his over. I burn my tongue on the hot coffee, but the sting settles me a little. “Tell me what happened, and I’ll decide what to believe from there.”
25
Eli
No matter what Abel says, he’s too stuck in his beliefs to let something as complicated as the truth derail him. When I stood in the ashes of his home, I knew that there was no going back. It doesn’t matter how large or small a role I played; I was partly responsible for that massacre. I don’t deserve forgiveness, but I had to move forward in order to ensure that sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.
If he’d asked me this yesterday, I would have told him to fuck off or said something designed to provoke him. But now?
Last night shouldn’t have changed things. Sex never changes things, not in any permanent way. Even knowing that, I can’t deny that I’m conflicted for the first time since I dedicated myself to the path that ended with me leading this faction.
And then there’s Harlow.
I can still taste her on my lips, feel the slide of her skin against mine, see the sadness in her eyes as she mourns the future we could have had. I don’t know if she’s right. Abel’s been gone a long time, and he reminds me of his father more than ever now. Or he did when he first appeared. Now I’m not so sure. There are cracks, and through those cracks I can see the shadow of the man he used to be. The one that I once dreamed of partnering with to bring this faction into a new future.
I take a tiny drink of my coffee and set it aside. “Your father was a monster. Under his rule, the people of this faction were suffering, were dying, because he was too busying chasing his fights and his glorious victories.”
“You don’t have to tell me what my father was like. I know as well as anyone. We talked about it after he hit Cohen, after I stepped in. You knew what I planned on doing.” There’s no heat in his tone, but he watches me carefully. “Your father planned the coup before I had a chance to.”
“Yes.” It’s tempting to pick up the coffee mug, to keep something in my hands, but I’ve trained myself too well to fidget. “I knew he was going after your father and I didn’t tell you.” This part’s harder. Harder to say, harder still to believe. “I thought if we could get Bauer out of the way, we could undermine my father as well. He wasn’t as bad as Bauer, but he wasn’t a saint, either.”
“Why not come to me with that plan? You know how I felt about my father. You knew there was only one endgame for me, and it resulted in my father six feet under.”
Yeah, I knew that. It’s why I did what I did. I take a slow breath, shoving down the past. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. He was your father, Abel. No matter how fucked your relationship, how much you hated him at the end, I couldn’t let you bear the burden of his death.”
His face goes slack with shock for half a second before he recovers. “You’re shitting me. Are you seriously trying to tell me that you did this so I wouldn’t have to kill Bauer myself?”
I’ve gone this far. I might as well finish it. I never considered myself naïve, but it’s impossible to paint me as anything else for believing things would work out that night. That it would end in anything other than disaster. “You’re able to push through a whole hell of a lot when you’re furious, but cold-blooded murder? That was a stretch, let alone planning patricide.”
“I don’t blink at murder any longer,” he says softly.
Maybe not, but if there’s one thing I don’t regret, it’s that he wasn’t the one who ended his father’s life. I spared him that much, at least. It doesn’t make up for the rest, but it’s a small consolation. “I didn’t realize my father had brought in the Mystics and the Amazons. Not until I smelled the smoke.”
I’d been down the street, on my way to tell Abel that he was finally free of his father. I still remember the way my stomach dropped out at the sight of the flames against the night sky. I’d stood there for hours as firefighters showed up to ensure the flames didn’t jump to nearby buildings, as the neighborhood came outside to bear silent witness, as the flames finally burned away to nothing, leaving only ash and death in their wake.
My stomach churns at the memory. I’d thought Abel was in that fire. That, in implementing the action that would set us free, I’d inadvertently caused the death of my best friend. Of the man I loved. Realizing that he survived, that he got all his brothers out… It only made that feeling worse.
Because I knew what he’d believe. That I was behind all of it. That I’d committed a betrayal there was no coming back from.
That everyone would believe it.
I clear my throat. “By the time they realized you and your brothers weren’t among the bodies in the house, you were gone. I knew looking for you was an invitation for them to finish what they started, so I disrupted the hunts as best I could.” It wasn’t enough. Not even close. Every time one of the people my father sent returned a failure, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Until I was able to kill my father and end the hunts once and for all.
Unlike Abel, I have no problem making the cold, unforgivable decision when it means the greater good.
Abel studies me over the rim of his coffee cup. “If that’s the truth, why didn’t you come after me? The transfer of power wouldn’t have been easy, even if Old Town got behind him. The two of us could have done what we’d planned.”
I swallow hard. “What would you have done if I’d shown up in the first year? In the second? Third?”
“Put a bullet between your eyes.” He says it without blinking.
“That’s why I didn’t. There’s a chance that if I found you, my father would finish what he started. But more than that, I couldn’t do it to the faction.” I laugh bitterly. “Forty innocent people died, Abel. I couldn’t let it be for nothing. I couldn’t let him rule for years and do even more damage to the people in Raider faction.”
He’s still watching me with that unreadable expression on his face. “You let your father live for three years past that night.”
I grimace. “He was a canny old bastard and paranoid as hell. I had to let things stabilize, but more than that, I had to wait for him to let down his guard. He died in his sleep.” With a pillow shoved over his face, and my weight holding it in place. The death wasn’t anything closed to the misery he deserved, but if there’s a hell, he’s suffering plenty in it right now.
Eventually I’ll join him, as payment for my sins.
“He died in his sleep.” Abel snorts. “I’ll just bet he did.”
“I’ll do anything for the good of this faction. Anything.”
Abel stares for a long moment and then shakes his head. “You and Harlow are quite the pair, aren’t you? Both such
noble martyrs. It’d be sickening if it weren’t so goddamn cute.”
He drinks his coffee, still watching me. “Let’s say I’m in the believing sort of mood. You’ve done this much for the faction. Can’t imagine you like the idea of handing over all that power just because I’m back.”
I don’t, but it’s more than that. I can’t let the faction go back to where it was before we killed Abel’s father. Too many people suffered during those days, and I’ll commit further unforgivable acts to ensure they don’t suffer again. My father? Abel’s father? They saw the throne as power that was their due. Neither of them felt the weight of ruling, the sheer responsibility for every life within the faction.
Not like I do.
“That depends on what your plans are.”
His smile is knife-sharp. “Yeah, that’s not an answer. You planning on pulling a repeat of eight years ago, Eli?”
It’s the only way to ensure the faction’s safety. No matter what cracks Abel has shown me, the truth is that he’s a stranger to me now. I can’t guarantee that he’s not an even worse version of his father. Waiting to see is just paving the way for him to hurt those who can least afford the harm. It won’t be me or Harlow or even Old Town that bears the brunt of his ruthlessness. It will be kids like Harlow was all those years ago. I couldn’t save her then. I can save those nameless kids now, though.
I lift my mug and let the warmth of the coffee seep into my hands. “It would be the smart play to make. You’re an unknown quantity.”
“Oh, I think you know me pretty well by now.”
That surprises a chuckle out of me. “Fucking is different, and you know it.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” He drains the rest of his mug and sets it on the counter. What little joking there was in his expression bleeds away. “I’ll think about what you said, Eli. I’ve had eight years thinking you betrayed me, and I think you’ll understand that I’m not all that willing to pull a one-eighty just because you say so.”
I expected nothing else. Honestly, I didn’t expect a single thing. I wouldn’t have broached this conversation if he didn’t push it, if Harlow didn’t push it. I’m not sure what she’s trying to accomplish, but it aches to talk about this shit. That night is a wound that never quite healed right, and I suspect it’s the same for Abel. We’ve had too long to move through the world with those wounds; they’ve shaped us into the men we are now.
We were friends all those years ago. We might have been more if either of us ever made a move. None of that matters now. The only thing that does is what we do next.
My coffee tastes bitter on my tongue. “Believe what you want, Abel. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness for what I’ve done, but I’ll do worse to keep the people of Raider faction safe.”
He stalks to me, crowding me back against the counter with his bigger body. His proximity goes through me like a bolt of pure lust, and it’s everything I can do not to respond physically. I hold perfectly still. Fuck, I even hold my breath.
He reaches out and loosely brackets my throat with his calloused hand, his expression contemplative. “Come to bed with us again tonight.”
I swallow hard. I want to say yes more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time. “Doesn’t seem wise to go without sleep for too many nights in a row.”
Abel gives me a slow smile that has my cock twitching despite my best efforts. “No one’s getting sleep tonight, and I think you know it.” He squeezes lightly then steps back. “Your choice.”
I watch him walk away, my chest too tight. Yeah, I want to climb back into bed with him and Harlow—the sooner, the better—but there’s no avoiding the meeting with Marie tonight. She’s already pushing against my orders; I can’t afford for her to act on her own because I’m otherwise occupied. She’s never had a problem following orders before, but we’re in uncharted territory in a number ways at the moment.
It’s not until I’m walking the halls, heading for my room, when I realize that Abel didn’t react at all like I expected him to. No instant denial. No telling me that it didn’t fucking matter. Just a mild comment that he’d think about my version of events. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.
I open my door and step into my room. What if—I can barely let myself contemplate it, but—What if Abel believes me? What if he simply lets go of the version of that night he’s believed for so long? What if the future we always dreamed of isn’t actually ash?
I can’t afford to hope, can’t let that desire cloud my decisions and my vision. But I’m only human, and I’ve spent so long mourning the loss of him that the fact that he’s here, that he’s still himself—at least in part—is fucking with me.
For the first time in a very long time, I don’t know what the right path forward is.
26
Harlow
Being in a room with Monroe and Fallon is a little bit like being trapped in a cage with a tiger and a feral wolf. They smile and trade barbs and sharpen their claws. The impossible feat is to get them to stop snarling long enough to agree to something, but it’s been thirty minutes, and now I’m just waiting them out.
Monroe examines her nails. She’s found time to paint them a bloody red since I saw her in the library yesterday. She’s wearing a sleek, short black dress and her blond hair is an artful tumble around her face. As always, her lipstick is bright red.
Ironically, Fallon and she are a matching pair. Fallon’s wearing a black tank top, black pants, and black heels. The dark color makes her skin look ethereally pale and her hair sinfully bright. She’s lounging in a chair with her ankle on one knee, and the way her hand keeps drifting to that ankle makes me think she has a knife stashed there.
Just what I need. Fallon and Monroe getting into a knife fight in the library.
Monroe grins suddenly. “So, Fallon, how is that baby Paine in bed? He seems awfully eager.” She leans forward, all happy smiles and sharp eyes. “Did he come in his pants when he saw you naked the first time?”
I have to fight not to roll my eyes. Gabriel Paine might be the youngest of the Paine brothers, but he’s twenty-eight. Hardly a baby by any definition of the word.
Fallon lifts an imperial brow. “You Amazons are always so vulgar.”
“We prefer the term earthy.” Monroe leans forward in her chair. “But it’s sweet of you to throw stones from that pretty glass house of yours. Vulgar, Fallon? Really? I know what kind of kinky rituals the Mystics get up to when they think no one is looking. Someone’s started believing their own hype.”
“Shut your filthy mouth, Amazon.”
Monroe inches forward. “Make me, Mystic.”
In another second, they’re going to be fighting and this will have been an even larger waste of time. I sip my tea and sigh dramatically. “That’s enough, children. If I wanted you to brawl, I’d put you out in the yard and at least give the people some entertainment.”
Just like that, I have two pairs of eyes cutting in my direction, one green, one eerie gray. Monroe tilts her head slowly to the side. “I knew you were a lap dog, Harlow, but you’re really taking the cake with this. Is Abel’s cock that good? Or were you always an opportunistic bitch?”
I let the insults roll off me. She’s said worse in the past. We’re enemies, after all. Enemies, and yet in a very similar situation. “Lap dog or no, I’m still free to move around as I see fit while you’re confined to your rooms. I didn’t anticipate you’d be one for captivity.”
Her lips curl into a sneer before she catches herself. “I’m biding my time.”
I glance at Fallon. She hasn’t moved since I spoke, hasn’t seemed to breathe. The expression on her face makes me think that she’s visualizing her knife going into my throat repeatedly right now. I keep my tone mild. “And you, Fallon? Are you biding your time as well?”
She finally moves, shifting farther back into her seat. “I take it you have a reason for calling us here. I’m listening.”
Monroe snorts. “Just like that?”
<
br /> “Unlike you, I’m able to think with my brain and not just my pussy.” She flicks her fingers at me, a clear command to continue.
I have to pause to keep from snarling. It doesn’t matter what these women think of me. It only matters that the faction benefits from this situation that Abel’s created. He’s guaranteed peace in Sabine Valley for the next year, but that doesn’t mean shit for those in power. Underhanded plays and shady deals will be the name of the game for the next twelve months. In order to cut off avenues for a good portion of that, I need these two women on my side. “You have two choices. You can keep fighting and pushing buttons and bickering and stay in this house for the next year. Or you can work with the Paines.”
“Pass,” Monroe says.
I ignore her. “I’m sure you have responsibilities and other things requiring your attention in your respective factions. Obviously you can’t go home, but we’re willing to loosen the leash a bit. There’s no reason for your companies and factions to suffer simply because you’re Brides.” The jab isn’t my most subtle, but I’m irritated and trying hard not to let it get control.
Monroe goes still. She might play like she’s a loose cannon, but it’s a ploy just like Eli’s easy charm is a ploy. People see the pretty face and the irreverent attitude and, despite her being the Amazon heir, they underestimate her.
“Are we expected to run things remotely from Paine territory?” Fallon’s fingers drift to her ankle again. “That’s a potential security breach that won’t be ignored by our people. You might as well keep us under lock and key and be done with it.”
This, I expected. I wrap my hands around my cup of tea. Like last time, neither of them took me up on my offer to share. “I’m merely opening up negotiations. I’m sure there’s a compromise that can get the job done.”
“I doubt it.”
I give Fallon a long look. “It’s your choice, but with you and Matteo gone, do you really think Juniper won’t take advantage of this opening?” Fallon’s sister was third in line for the Mystic throne, and she is actually a loose cannon if ever there was one. Cruel and petty and with no impulse control to speak of, if she took over, both the Mystic faction and Sabine Valley as a whole will suffer. Even Matteo with his dreamy demeanor would be a better option.
Abel: A Sabine Valley Novel Page 18