Page 62 of When Sinners Fear

I drop the smoke and crush it down. “My loyalties are here, with this family. There’s no questioning that.”

“Yeah, but I reckon you just felt something outside of them for the first time in your life. The cage? The girl? I know she’s been staying at yours.”

My frown turns to a scowl, and I turn for the building rather than discuss anything about that. “You know nothing.” All that is is guilt and blame and some kind of connection because of what went down. I’ll get over it. Through it. It's why I came back here after I dropped her off. I needed me again. This.

He doesn’t move other than to take a swill out of his bottle. “Knocks the goddamn wind right outta ya,” he calls. I look over my shoulder, hands fixed in my pockets. “Makes you see things differently. Makes you choose. And if there’s one thing I’ve learnt about this family, it’s that when they love, they love hard. Pretty impressive for a bunch of mercenary assholes.”

“You know nothing about me either.”

He does stand at that. He stands and walks to me, facing me off like he’d happily try beating some sense into me if he thought it’d help get some point across. But instead of trying, he just smiles and walks backwards. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t. Guess I’ll leave you be.”

I watch him go, not giving one damn about his opinion of me. Wherever I am in my head, itwillpass. The constancy of her will lessen now she’s gone, the memories of what I did will diminish, and whatever this self-loathing is will dissipate to nothing at all again.

“Knox?” My head turns at Abel’s voice. “Come inside. We need that talk now.”

We don’t need any talk as far as I’m concerned. I just need to call Logan, get whatever information he has about Reed, and get on with killing the son of a bitch. I don’t know why I haven’t done it already. Her healing time, maybe. My own.

Still, I follow Abel into the main room and listen to Carmen spitting orders around the space. A woman falls over on the stage, missing the beat of the music and causing two more women to trip into and over her. Whole damn sight looks like some dark carousel of carnage unfolding. Limbs clash, high-pitched yelps sound loudly, and Carmen beats the hell out of the first one for triggering the issue.

Aggravation and belligerence rise straight through me at the vision, ready to explode at someone for something. I stall, watching her do it, and plant my feet exactly where they are to focus on the scene. This should be amusing, simple, arousing even. All I can see is Peyton, though.

I can hear her whimpers.

Her screams.

Her pain and tears.

“Knox?”

A volley of emotion attacks my senses one after the other – fear, terror, agony, mindless fucking laughing. They laughed at us. Made us – made me. Ice-white hair flits through my thoughts, red eyes swollen with too many tears shed.

Someone’s hand lands on my shoulder, and I react without thought. My body launches at the threat, fists primed and still weak muscles trying, for all their worth, to deal with the issue. I don’t even see who it is. I’m just existing in the seconds – dealing with the pain and guilt and potential torment coming. Grunts sound loudly, and whoever it is tries wrapping themselves around me. I fight on, though. Always fight on. Cortez wins, every time we win.

“I got you, brother,” murmurs close to my ear. No one’s got me. No one had me back there either. It was just me and her and no help coming. “Be cool.” There isn’t one goddamn thing cool about me, and a twist out of the hold and a sharp right hook to a jaw proves it. It’s only when I see Dante stumble backwards that I realise it’s him I’ve hit.

He swipes at his mouth, smearing blood, and glowers. “You back the fuck up, Knox.” I step forward, glaring. “I’m not doing this.”

I rip at my jacket and toss it from my shoulders. “Why not? Too pussy to try?”

“Fuck you. Get your head out your goddamn ass.” He turns to start walking from this.

“Yeah, that’s it. Run away like the mothafucking asshole you are.” That brings him right back in front of me, all ire building and real aggression fuelling him. “You’re good at that.”

“Knox, stop.” I look sideways at Abel. “Office, now.”

Dante’s hands shove me back a few steps. “Be careful little brother. I’m about to lose my shit.” I lash a hard left fist to his throat instantly, sending his whole frame sideways and his feet fumbling for purchase. It feels so good, so goddamn healing, that despite my weakness I move in for more.

Abel’s between us fast, both hands stretched wide.

“KAI!” he shouts. That asshole arrives behind me before I’ve got through another goddamn threat, and tackles both my elbows back until I’m damn near strapped to him somehow. “Get him to my car, now!”

I’m wrangled by him the whole damn way. Shoved and pushed every time I try getting out of his hands. He glares on the third try and cricks his neck out, ready for more.

“Move, Knox.”

“Fuck you.” He’s hard and fast into me, shoulder going straight for my waist to tackle me back. The rest of it’s just a manic rampage of me hitting and him taking it rather than fighting back. We pass through corridor after corridor, and eventually I’m too confused about anything to find more energy to fight with. All I know is hate and fear, threats and pain. It’s everywhere around me, inside me, seeping in and out with no control or order.

He eventually lets me go and stands guard by the entrance, under a light, to stop me going back in.

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