episode and she needs me?”
“Episode? What are you talking about? And she had the right to know who her father was! I deserve to know my daughter. She was kept from me for twenty-five years. I’m allowed to talk to her!” Mercy defends himself, looking just as scared as I feel. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing is wrong with her. She’s fucking perfect how she is.” The blade in my pocket is burning a hole right through, begging me to grab hold and cut Mercy’s tongue out.
“She has psychosis,” Reaper tells him. “Her version of reality isn’t always real.”
Badge gives me a glass of water. The condensation on the glass is cold and slick against my fingertips. I take a greedy gulp, but it does nothing to put out the new hellfire in my veins. “She saw her mom die and her psychosis formed. I think she saw her mom get murdered. I don’t think she killed herself. The dreams Daphne has been having lately are too damn real, and she wakes up gasping for air like she’s run a mile.”
“Dreams? Why didn’t you tell me this?” Reaper asks.
“I didn’t think you’d care,” I state, adding a bite to every word.
He’s hurt.
Good.
“Oh my god. I could have saved them so long ago,” Mercy says to himself. He props himself against the counter and sags. “It’s all my fault.”
I want to blame him and right now, I will, even if logic tells me it isn’t his fault. He didn’t know about her past.
“Well, looks like we are having Church. We have a ton to discuss.” Reaper checks the time on the clock hanging above the sink. “Five a.m. Hope you boys are rested.”
The front door slams open and my hopes are lifted when I think it’s Daphne, but it’s Braveheart.
Wait a minute.
“Hey, guys,” he greets, rubbing his hands together to get them warm again. “What’s with the gloomy faces?” His eyes land on me and something resembling confusion crosses his face. “You just missed Daphne. She left a few hours ago.”
Before I can blink, before I can breathe again, I have him face down against the table with a knife against the base of his skull. “You let her leave? Why? Why would you let her leave alone!” I apply more pressure to the end of the knife, a drop of blood pebbling on his skin.
“I didn’t think anything of it. She’s one of our own. I figure she can come and go as she pleases!” The last word is a loud shout as I apply even more force against his head.
“Fuck, I’ll go check the cameras. I’ll see if I can track the traffic cameras to see where she is going.” Badge drains the rest of his tea, then pours a cup of coffee. “We will find her, Tongue. We care. She is one of ours.”
I don’t say thank you as he leaves the room to go to his office. I’m too fucking busy debating if I want to kill Braveheart.
“Tongue, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Okay? I didn’t know. I thought maybe she was picking something up for you and wanted to keep it a surprise for your birthday or something—”
I stop him from saying anything else and pick his head up, then smack it down on the table again. “I don’t even know my own birthday!” I roar into his ear and lift the knife in the air. My uncle never celebrated my birthday. I can’t remember any birthdays before he had custody of me, either. I simply don’t know.
Reaper grabs my arm as I slice it through the air, just before it hits Braveheart in the middle of the head, which would have decapitated him senseless. I fight Reaper, but it’s my bad arm and the muscles start to shake. Braveheart takes the split second of my weakness for his advantage and rolls away.
“You need to calm down,” Reaper orders, snagging my other arm and yanking it behind my back.
I cry out as the scarred gunshot wound tugs. Painful tingles cascade through my tendons, numbing the tips of my fingers.
“Let me go,” I seethe, using my bodyweight to launch him to my left. He doesn’t expect it and Reaper’s grip loosens enough for me to shrug out of his hold. I reach across the table and snag the knife right before Slingshot tries to beat me to it.
I hold my trusty blade out in front of me, slashing it through the air. Sweat over my brows and down