Page 123 of Diamond In The Rough

All except for that one time. That one agent.

I peer across to Felix who puffs at a smoke, having lost his fight against cigarettes while stress remains his most consumed meal.

“You want me to remove them?”

He pulls the cigarette from between his lips and exhales the thick plume of white air. Strangely, I don’t even turn away anymore. I don’t search for fresh oxygen, because I don’t particularly mind if I live or die anymore. “Let them do their thing.” He sits back in his chair, his jaw pushed forward in pride and his foot lifted to rest on the opposite knee. While downstairs, the Feds wander to the bar and work to flag Gregory down for a drink. That’s where they’ll ask him questions. Try to become his friend. Attempt to trap him in a lie and sit on him till they squeeze something juicy out.

They’ll fail. But that inevitable conclusion doesn’t stop them from trying.

“This is a legitimate club,” Lix continues. “We have nothing to hide.”

“We could boot them just for the sake of it. We have the right to reject anyone we don’t want to serve. For any reason we deem acceptable.”

“You’re working with emotion.” Something he is especially gifted at switching off. “Stop acting on rage just because a badge has walked through our door.” Breaking his focus on the crowd, he drags his gaze across and stares at the side of my face. “She okay?”

He doesn’t have to say her name. Doesn’t have to verbalize the target of his question.

She’s the only she I ever think about these days.

“According to Stovic, she’s fine. Has Roscoe over a lot.” I grit my teeth as poison rises to burn my throat. “He’s slept there almost every single night since the bunker.”

Lix’s jaw flexes. His eyes burn. But he doesn’t say what we both know he’s thinking. He doesn’t add to the agony I already feel.

Perhaps, for the first time in our lives, he’s the mature, non-impulsive one of our pairing.

“She’s safe though.” Sniffing, he drags his gaze back to the crowd and his cigarette up to his lips. “She’s alive and well. And all we need, sometimes, is to know they’re okay.”

“I hate her.” I reach across the table to the small glass of soda I had the bartender pour hours ago. No alcohol for me while I’m working. No alcohol, ever, unless it’s in the safety of my own home and my brother’s life isn’t in my hands. “She’s a threat to my family. And she would have us both locked up if she could. I doubt they’d let us be together behind bars.”

He contemplates my words for a long moment. His fingers flexing, his forearm moving with the action. Then he turns to me in silence, though the club thunders around us.

Why, when the music registers in my ears, do I think of Tiia?

She wouldn’t be able to conduct a conversation in here without shouting “what?” a dozen times. The bass is just annoying enough, just loud enough, to steal her ability to hear.

I try so hard not to think of her at all. But she’s in everything I do. Everything I see and hear and smell.

She is everything. And it breaks my heart, day after day, to know it’s all fucked up.

“Do you ever think our codependence is maybe… toxic?”

I scoff and sip my drink, the noise made louder as it echoes in the glass. “Our entire lives are toxic, Lix. We were created from violence, then celebrated with more.” Swallowing my small sip, I set the glass back on the table and bring my hands up to massage my palm with the opposite thumb. “The universe would probably be better if we didn’t exist. Surely there’s some cosmic misalignment, right? We shouldn’t be here, but we are. The universe will punish that to rebalance things.”

“You’re getting all philosophical on me now, huh?” He takes one last pull of his cigarette, filling his lungs and crushing the butt out against the ashtray. Then he exhales so the stench forces me to close my lips and wait him out. “I don’t think you hate her.”

Stunned, I meet his eyes.

“I think you’re terrified she hates you. So you’d rather pretend she’s the devil incarnate, than risk her rejection if you go to her.”

It’s a good thing, I suppose, that I didn’t ask for his opinion.

“I think you’re ashamed of what happened inside the bunker, and I know you’re sorry.”

“Stop now.”

“I think you’re ashamed most of all because we work so hard to not be like Timothy. Breeding versus willpower. And on that day, you touched on the blood that courses through our veins and you became a monster. For a minute, anyway. You don’t hate her,” he presses. “You hate that part of our breeding.”

“I said stop.”

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