I snatch it with shaky fingers and read the typed words.
Stay away or pay.
13
Levi
I orchestrated your fall, but I don’t feel the grand finale.
* * *
My hands remain inert by my side as Chloe straddles my lap, her flowery perfume is so strong, it’s nauseating.
Or maybe that’s due to the shots of vodka I’ve been gulping down.
The party is in full bloom around me. Girls grind on the team members. Some smoke, others drink. I should stop them, considering that it’s a weeknight, but fuck if I care.
Hell, I’ve been drinking like a sailor myself.
The captain in me is a shitty person right now.
The Meet Up is a cottage-like house at the outskirts of London that Aiden has inherited from his mother.
Since we grew old enough to need a breather from the King’s mansion, this place has become our sanctuary.
Ronan is channelling his inner dancer and MCing the party with his random French sayings.
Xander gambles at the table in the middle of the room with a few other players. But half the team has taken a girl — or two — and disappeared down the hall.
Rock music thumps from the new speakers Cole installed the other day. Chris is grinding with a girl, his eyes bloodshot and his smile manic — just like when we returned from the mission.
It’s a merry go round of fun and games.
Usually, I’d take part in the masquerade and pretend like all of this is what I want to be.
But I couldn’t give a shit whatsoever.
Not when everything is fucking black.
I push Chloe off me, and she stumbles to her feet with a squeak.
Usually, I’d fuck the shit out of her or any of her friends. However, since the beginning of this year, none of the girls is doing it for me.
Especially now when everything, even the fucking air, is clawing up my throat and suffocating my breathing.
Ignoring Chloe’s protests, I breeze through the crowd, snatching a cigarette from between Xander’s fingers on the way out.
As soon as the outside cool air hits me, I take a drag and blow a cloud of smoke in the distance.
I’m not a smoker, but whenever it feels like shit is closing in on me, nicotine chases the fog away. There are also the happy pills some of the guys use, but I promised myself to never come within two inches of that poison.
Not after what happened in the past.
It’s one of those nights where everything feels fucking wrong.
Wrong place.
Wrong mindset.
Wrong bloody air.
The only thing that keeps flashing in my mind is the look of horror and despair on those teary eyes as she stared up at me.
The way she begged even though she’s not the type to.
I meant to scare her, put her in her place, and teach her that there’s no crossing me.
But as I stared at the terror in her gaze and felt her shrink and tremble against me, something strange happened.
I had doubts.
I have doubts.
For my entire life, I’ve been taught to be assertive. Once I plan everything to a T and study every possible outcome, I shouldn’t look twice before forging ahead.
After all, no battles were won by just holding down the fort.
My family is known for its boldness whether in business, social, or political situations. We don’t back down once we put our sights on something.
Tonight shouldn’t have been any different.
Yet… it was.
Maybe I took it too far. Maybe I triggered some sort of a trauma that she struggled to keep buried inside.
Her voice sounded hauntingly similar to that black night.
I run a hand through my hair and throw the cigarette away.
It’s over.
It’s done.
That should teach Astrid her place.
Judging from how Daniel is singing with Ronan, it seems she didn’t bother to call or text him.
Not sure if that should delight or anger me.
A part of me is glad the whole thing is done, but the other part, the most confusing fucking part feels emptier and blacker than I did at the beginning of the night.
This is supposed to be my win but I don’t feel victorious.
14
Astrid
I don’t hate you, I hate my weakness.
* * *
I hide in the confines of my room underneath the blanket, breathing my own air.
For always chastising myself about feeling strong, I don’t anymore.
I spent the entire night curled into a fetal position beneath the blanket crying until no more tears came out.
There are no words to describe the amount of hate I feel for myself for letting him — or them —