Chapter Twenty-Three

It was a long walk down the hall.

Quinn watched Trey walk out of Rogue’s office, heading in the opposite direction toward the elevators.

“At least there won’t be an audience for my reaming.”

Jared scoffed. “You’ve heard Rogue yell. The cook downstairs is gonna hear it along with everyone within a mile radius.”

Quinn chuckled but quickly stifled it when Rogue emerged from his doorway, sending her a scathing glare.

“I can explain.”

His gaze darkened, and his jaw squared.

“Get your ass in my office.” She had to give him credit. He was showing more restraint than she’d expected. His tone was still unhinged, and he was clenching his teeth. But she couldn’t dismiss the effort he was putting in to remain calm. Well, calm for Rogue.

She slipped past him and flinched slightly when the door slammed behind her. At this point, she should be immune to doors slamming. It was just another day with Rogue.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve…”

“You don’t fucking leave without telling anyone.”

“I know, but—”

“No,” he snapped and stalked toward her. Quinn backed into the wall, and Rogue closed the gap, grasping her throat. “How the fuck am I supposed to protect your ass if you keep pulling this shit?”

“I just went—”

He leaned closer. “You got Kahill as a threat. And what the fuck do you do? Go running around the goddamn city with no protection. What if something fucking happened to you?”

It all became clear with his statement.

“You were” —her throat bobbed, and her bottom lip fell open— “worried about me.”

His gaze hardened, but his thumb stroked her jaw. She curled her cheek into his palm. This was a rare side of Rogue that not many people saw, she assumed. He’d never be categorized as soft—but for her? It was so strange and foreign to have anyone worried about her.

I like it.

Her hands wrapped around his waist, testing the waters. Even at his angriest, he didn’t push her away. In fact, he pulled her closer.

“I always know where the fuck you are. Understand?”

She slowly nodded, eyeing his mouth. Yes.

There was a sharp knock, and the door swiftly opened. Trey walked in with his stare locked on Rogue.

“Rogue,” Trey said. There was something off in his tone.

“This can fucking wait,” Rogue snapped and pointed to the door.

“It can’t.”

“Trey,” Rogue growled, but before he could say anything else, Trey took another step toward Rogue.

“It’s Sal. There’s been an accident.”

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Rogue stared back at Trey, and all she could do was watch. It was eerily silent.

“We have to go. Now,” Trey said. “Cars are waiting downstairs.”

“He alive?” Rogue’s tone was deep and graveled, unlike anything she’d heard before.

“For now.”

Trey walked out, leaving the door wide open. Security filed down the hall as she stepped a few feet closer to Rogue. His demeanor was rigid, the sharp angles of his features tight with his gaze downcast. Without knowing the details, Quinn knew the severity of the situation. She inched closer, reaching out and caressing her fingertips over his knuckles.

“Rogue,” she whispered.

He glanced up. This was his weak spot. Sal.

He yanked his hand away, and she dropped hers to her side. He grabbed his phone from the desk and rounded it. She expected him to leave without another word. Instead, he grabbed her hand and walked out. The elevator doors were open and waiting at the end of the hallway.

Quinn remained silent but noticed Rogue’s hand tightening over hers when Jared started to give a rundown on the details. Sal had been in a car accident and was brought to the hospital unconscious. The details were limited, which only amped Rogue’s aggravation and tension. She wrapped her hand over his forearm, unsure if he’d let her.

He did.

****

The car had barely come to a complete stop before Rogue had the door open and was stepping out. As he rounded the bumper, Quinn was getting out. He bypassed her, knowing she’d follow close behind. His men would see to it. His mind was in a rage-filled fog. He met Trey at the door, and they walked in. Neither man slowed their steps, even when confronted by the front desk.

Nothing and no one would stop them from getting to where they needed to be—with Sal.

Years of working under him. Listening to every word as if he were a king on a throne handing down the secrets to the kingdom. Rogue soaked it all in from the day he’d met Sal. Idolized, and more importantly, respected a man who’d taken three battered by life boys under his wing and taught them everything. And beyond that… he fucking saved me. That admission was rarely spoken, at least from Rogue. But it was the truth. Sal raised them. It may have been an unconventional upbringing, but he was the only man willing to step up for them.

Losing Sal was not an option.

Rogue didn’t bother waiting on the elevators. He and Trey took the stairs to the third floor. He ripped open the door and peered down the hallway. Oz was standing with Nash and three members of their security—Caine, Ridge, and Cy—who’d become Oz’s personal detail, lined the hallway. Usually they had more of a military stance, but considering the location, they appeared to be merely guests.

“Where the fuck is he?” Rogue shouted, gaining the attention of not only his brother but a few nurses.

Oz started toward Rogue and Trey, stopping in front of the small waiting room.

“He’s in surgery,” Oz said.

Rogue could feel the blood drain from his face as his fear set in. “How bad is it?”

Oz drew in a breath and locked eyes with Rogue. His brother was impossible to read, but there was a shift in his cold as ice demeanor. “They don’t know yet.”

It was not the answer Rogue wanted to hear. “Well, what the fuck do they know?”

Oz folded his arms, glancing over at Trey. All three men were in the same position. Sal was an irreplaceable figure in their lives—in this life.

“He was unconscious when they brought him in. Had a broken arm, fractured ankle, and…” Oz narrowed his gaze. It was as if he was setting him and Trey up for the painful blow. “They’re concerned about head trauma.”

Rogue was no doctor, but anything to do with the brain came with great risk. He drove his hands through his hair and circled in the small space. Fuck.

“Did they give any indication when he’ll be out of surgery?” Trey asked.

Oz shook his head. “No.”

It would be a waiting game. Absolute torture for someone like Rogue, who had zero patience for anything. He was mildly aware of the people in his surroundings. All his focus and thoughts were on Sal. He balled his fists, wanting to throw something through the wall. Anything to rid his mind of the dark place his thoughts were going. I will not fucking bury that man. Not yet. Rogue wasn’t ready.

“Do we know how this happened?”

Trey’s question got his attention, and he turned, facing Trey and Oz.

“As of now, it looks like an accident.”

Rogue read through his brother’s basic statement. If they found foul play was involved, the Underground would rain hell over whoever did this. Rogue would personally handle it. That thought had his mind racing. They’d gained a lot of enemies throughout the years. This wouldn’t be the first time someone had made an attempt at an attack. His blood careened through his veins, stoking a fire in his chest.

Oz lifted his chin toward the waiting room. “Keep that temper in check. Remember where we are.” Oz narrowed his gaze as he passed him, sending a warning.

As the others filed into the waiting room, Rogue remained in the hall, resting his back against the wall. For a brief second, he closed his eyes.

Rogue balled his fists, trying to settle his heart. He barely felt the warm, soft hand caressing his knuckles, but he opened his eyes and jerked his head. Quinn was close to his side, peering up at him. Her soft features, bright eyes, and warm demeanor. A total contrast from Rogue and all he was feeling.

This is what I fucking need.

Her calming aura surrounding him. It wouldn’t dissolve it all, but she was like a warm blanket, comforting his chilled blood. She inched closer, brushing against his arm. Rogue glanced down at the floor and hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Her arms immediately wrapped around him, digging her fingers into his back.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been standing in the hallway when she whispered, “Come outside with me.”

Leaving was the last thing Rogue was willing to do.

“I ain’t leaving.”

“We won’t go far. Just outside. Fresh air will help, and you can taint your lungs with a cigarette while you’re at it.”

Rogue stilled, furrowed his brows, and looked down. Quinn’s teasing smile had him easing a bit. When she stepped back and clasped his hand, he straightened from the wall. She tugged, and he went with her willingly. It was rare for Rogue to hand over control to anyone. But it was as if she knew he needed it.