Page 68 of Five Fingers of Death

I barely got the words out before I stood and looked away. Fuck, I needed a minute.

“Hey, Carli,” I heard Tahlia say. “Should we go say goodbye to your mom?”

I squeezed my eyes closed as they walked away. I didn’t know how to hold it together. Between the guilt over not getting to Leah in time and the fact that I pushed her away for so many years, I wasn’t sure how the hell I was feeling at the moment.

“You okay?” Jack asked, walking up beside me.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s clear that you’re not.”

“How the fuck would you know?”

“Because I’ve been there,” he said, blowing out a slow breath. “That space in your head where you know you’ve fucked up and you can’t find a way out? I’ve lived it.”

“Like I said, I’m fine. I can handle it.”

He snorted. “I remember a time when I said that to you.”

“You were fucked up,” I pointed out.

“Maybe so, but how is this different?”

I glared at him for even suggesting that I was as bad as a fucking addict. “Do you have something you want to say to me?”

He turned to me, his eyes intense as he stared me down, but there was no malice there. And that only pissed me off more. “I’m your friend, so I don’t know why you’re looking at me like I’m a piece of shit.”

“Maybe because you’re comparing me to you. Last I remember, I didn’t get addicted to heroin. I didn’t have to take a hit just so I could function. And I sure as shit didn’t try to strangle the woman I loved because I was so fucked up in the head that I didn’t even recognize her,” I snapped.

Something in Jack’s eyes flared, but he didn’t take the bait. Yeah, his jaw twitched and his muscles bunched up, prepared for a fight, but he never snapped back at me. Instead, he took a deep breath and let the moment pass.

And I fucking hated him for it.

“Anything else you wanna get off your chest?”

His words burned something deep in my gut. The cool and calm demeanor—the way he brushed off my scalding remarks like they couldn’t hurt him only fueled the anger inside me. He had every reason to hate every fucking person on this earth, yet he acted like he didn’t have a care in this world.

But I’d just lost the one woman I’d ever truly wanted, and all because I never gave her a fucking chance. She was gone because of me. Her daughter was a fucking orphan because of me. I had to bury her in the ground after being tortured and fucking beaten to death. Her blood was soaked into my hands. Her body had been tossed aside like it meant nothing.

And he had the audacity to stand there and ask if there was anything else I wanted to get off my chest?

My nostrils flared as rage tingled under my skin. I knew I was about to lose it. I tried to close my eyes and pull back the anger, but there was nothing more I could do. I was so fucking ashamed of everything. And here was this asshole, looking at me like he had all the answers.

“Tahlia, take Carli home now,” Jack commanded. “And take Sky and Parker with you.”

My eyes flew open at his words. “You’re not taking my kid anywhere,” I snapped.

I spun around, but before I could take a single step, Jack grabbed my arm. It happened so fast. I swung hard, slamming my fist into his jaw. He stumbled slightly, but then came at me hard, ramming his shoulder into my stomach and taking me to the ground. The wind was knocked out of me from the force of the hit, but I rolled him, sucking in a harsh breath. Just that split second left me wide open.

The hit to my jaw felt like a sledgehammer slammed into me. Dazed, I struggled to my feet. I never let a fight get to me in this way, but something about this particular fight was getting the better of me. Every time my fist hit his body, he got in two jabs. If I went down twice, he only went down once. I was getting my ass handed to me, and I couldn’t figure out why.

It wasn’t until the last time that he took me down that it finally dawned on me. Jack wrapped his hand around my neck and pulled me toward him. My forehead was pressed to his. I slapped him away, but he wouldn’t move, and no matter how hard I struggled, he wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone.

“Let it go, man,” he whispered. “You didn’t do this.”

“It’s my fault,” I bit out.

“You didn’t do this,” he repeated. “This is not on you. It’s not on you. Do you hear me?”

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