Page 27 of Boy of Ruin
“You’re coked out of your mind more often than not, you refuse to let her breathe, and you think that she’s the problem?” He turns back to look at me, tightening his hand on the wheel, his jaw clenched. He’s angry now. For her.
Everyone is always trying to protect her, but when I do the same thing, I’m the fucking villain.
“You two needed some space.”
“I don’t want space,” I counter, picking my head up from the seat, twisting to glare at him, gripping the lighter so hard my palm starts to sweat. “I want her back, now. And I’m going to fucking get—”
He shakes his head, arching a brow. “You’re not safe. This shit right here,” he jerks his thumb to the door panel, where my baggie is, “you gotta cut that shit out. She didn’t run because she loves him. She doesn’t want him—”
I slam my fist on the center console and Maverick’s jaw jumps. “My wife is a fucking liar,” I snarl at him, “and if you didn’t know that about her, then you’re not nearly as smart as I thought you were.” Without another word, I throw the lighter at his window and hear it clatter against it as I undo my seatbelt and get out of the car, slamming the door closed behind me.
Elijah is in the sanctuary.
I don’t expect that, to see him in the front row pew, his head bowed, fingers clasped together, the 6 ring—a snake curved into the shape of the number—glinting on his dark brown finger.
I slow my steps down the red carpeted aisle, glancing around the expansive room, lit by sconces flickering in the wall. Cain, Ezra, and Atlas are seated on the opposite pew, Atlas with his head tilted back, eyes closed, skin paler than usual. Ezra is staring straight ahead, hands in the pocket of his hoodie even though it’s too fucking hot outside for one, and Cain is watching me, his coal-black eyes tracking my movement as I hear the heavy double doors thud closed at my back after Maverick walks through.
“What?” I ask Cain, taking in the black eye he got at his last fight.
He’s dressed in a gray button down, tailored to his fighter’s frame, and he’s got his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Sit down.”
My heart picks up speed in my chest as I hear Maverick coming up behind me. Unease races through me, and I clench my hands into fists as I get to the front of the sanctuary, my back to the pulpit as I turn to face my brothers, Elijah ignoring me, his head still bowed.
“What’s wrong?” My voice comes out hoarse, nervous. I don’t care. I am nervous. I’m thinking about her. What he could’ve done to her. Our baby.
Cain dips his chin, jerking his head to the space beside him, between him and Atlas, who adjusts the backwards cap on his head and sits up straighter, opening his eyes. “Sit down,” Cain says again.
I glance to Maverick, level with the pew Cain is on, his eyes narrowed as he stares at him, waiting too. He, like me, is wearing a fitted, black T-shirt, and I see the muscles in his inked arms flex as he stiffens.
“Tell me what the fuck is wrong,” I tell Cain, stepping closer to him.
He’s got his feet flat on the floor, knees spread, taking up way too much fucking space, and he doesn’t bother sitting up straighter as he says, too calmly, “Sit the fuck down and I’ll tell you.”
Elijah sighs, dropping his hands and looking up, his dark green eyes on mine as I freeze, halfway to the pew.
Elijah runs a hand over his burgundy button-down shirt, his muscles shifting as he does.
“Is someone gonna tell me what the fuck is happening?” I ask him, swiveling to face him fully. Cain and his seat can go fuck themselves. My blood is pounding in my head, and my patience is almost non-existence these days.
These days without her.
Elijah sighs, casting his eyes up to the ceiling and clenching his jaw, as if he’s praying for patience. But we don’t pray to anything that might be up above.
Finally, his gaze shifts back to me and he clears his throat. “We have a problem.”
I tense, biting my tongue.
My blood runs cold as I turn to my brothers, who are all watching me carefully, because they already know.
Maverick is stepping closer to me, but I hold up a hand, halting him as I look back at Elijah, wondering where Callum and Adam are. Where Maddox fucking Astor is.
“I’m not fucking stupid. I figured that out.” My voice comes out shaky as I drop my hand, curling it back into a fist. “Is it her? Where is she? What happened?”
Elijah clenches his jaw, and I know I shouldn’t speak to him like that. But I kind of no longer give a fuck what I should or shouldn’t do. I spent my entire life following my father’s orders, only to drive a knife through his skull. In the end, he ended up not actually being the immortal god I thought he might be.
We’re all flesh and bone. We can all fucking snap, and if Elijah doesn’t start talking, I’m gonna prove it to him.
“Someone got to my guard.”
