Chapter Forty-Two

“ P LEASE , D OM . P LEASE don’t go.”

Hell exists.

Hell’s current geographic location? Paris.

The city my brother conquered in his early twenties and declared our righteous prison.

Hell’s definition? Replaying the last year and change on a loop while questioning my decisions and the choice I made every second of every day since.

Because the Giant didn’t appear.

No, Tobias waited three agonizing weeks to come home. Weeks in which we pleaded with him to return our calls and texts. Weeks where Sean and I lost our goddamned minds, completely unaware of where his own cognizance was at—along with his whereabouts and intentions for us—Tyler included.

Tobias either figured it out before he made the bird I charged to watch him or spotted his feathered tail just after—because he dropped off the radar. This left us scrambling in his wake, only to imagine and prepare for the worst.

For two of those weeks, Cecelia fled to Georgia with a broken heart—a heart that we shattered by design in an attempt to get a message to him. The mystery of who spilled our secret remains unknown. It was a bird outside of our inner circle, of that much we were certain as we formulated a plan.

Said plan was as much of a fool’s plot as the one we used to betray Tobias. Which, in turn, cleaved me in two—leaving me in dual, measured pieces burning in the aftermath. One part was on fire for her, the other, sifting through the singed remnants for any remaining bond with my brother.

Watching Cecelia crumble in the garage while realizing what vindictive actions we’re capable of was one of the most brutal experiences I’ve ever endured.

I broke my own vow to guard her immaculate heart in a stupid fucking attempt to distance her from our deceit and keep her safely away from my brother’s wrath.

Witnessing her spiral—which felt like it played out in slow motion—further widened the fracture inside me, especially when her deep blues beseeched us for any sign it wasn’t the truth. Sean had given me the ammo to make it convincing, and it was. Too convincing.

For me, at the time, it was the only way to try to distance her from the path of destruction coming our way. While also attempting to mask the truth until we had a chance to explain ourselves.

When Sean broke at the sight of it, his punch felt like a bee sting compared to the gutting I felt as she cried openly—which further drove the slow sink of the knife into my chest as it pierced her own due to our gift of precision. Every agonizing second of watching her fall apart in that garage will forever be ingrained in my memory.

Those weeks of torment have only led to more in those that followed, heading up to the minutes that now haunt my every waking hour.

“Please, Dom. Please don’t go.”

After two weeks of deserved silence from the two people we annihilated for our selfish gain, Sean and I decided that when and if Cecelia returned to the plant, Sean would come clean about Roman. Thus revealing him as the prime suspect in my parents’ death and our revenge plans while omitting Tobias. A way to further prepare her while giving her leverage in an effort to gain some of her trust back.

A risk we decided was worth taking if we only implicated ourselves. We’d already given her access to the club, how we worked, and our trust.

Decision made, when she returned from Georgia, we kept our distance from Roman’s house. We were flying blind, unknowing if he was already back in the States or who might be watching and reporting our every move.

The mindfuck of my missing brother felt like a punishment in and of itself. Despite the burn her absence caused, I hoped Cecelia would stay in Georgia to avoid being on a collision course with whatever was coming until we could do some damage control. Her reason for returning was selfless, and I knew it had everything to do with her mother—which only intensified my guilt.

The day after her return, I lost my shit and went AWOL, straying from every thought-out decision Sean, Tyler, and I had agreed upon. Sean was set to intercept her first with parts of the truth, but I allowed my need to take over—starving for the sight of her. I knew my behavior was fucking borderline as I drove like the four-letter cursed man I’d become. I was driving down the road next to Roman’s mansion, hoping she would hear my engine before idling nearby on the off chance she came out of hiding.

Eventually, she did, spotting me on the side of the road before leading me on a street chase, intent on losing me.

After realizing it was a pointless crusade I was not backing away from, she pulled over and came out swinging with war in her eyes. Delivering death blow after death blow, her stinging heart voicing every brutal delivery. My emotions were so all over the fucking place that I acted a fool by allowing them to cloud my judgment. Instead of behaving or saying what I should have, I was apologizing one second, filled with pride the next for her fiery return, and rock fucking hard after her wicked display of backbone and voicing as much. “You’ve come a long way.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

It was, and admittedly ill-timed. Her reception pulled me in and drove me to kiss her venom away, while her vicious backlash fueled me to try and bridge the separation.

During that exchange, I knew I would love her through every bit of whatever our future brought—owning it to Tobias and taking any penalty my brother doled out. I told her as much with my declaration. “I have to let you go for now, but I don’t fucking want to...I don’t have a choice, but everything I do now, it’s for you.”

She fought me brutally, but in the end, I knew there was forgiveness there—in both our hearts, we were far from over. Even with the hard-edged, internal change in her makeup from the damage Sean and I caused, it was evident she was ready to face my brother—if it happened—and whatever hell he brought with him.

That I was ready for , that I was prepared for. What I wasn’t prepared for was the complete and utter devastation that greeted Sean and me when Tobias finally arrived back in Triple Falls before he, too, openly cracked in front of us.

“This was for Maman and Papa, Dom. We were so close, brother. Why?”

His voice was ragged and broken—decimating. Even as we stood, lined up like the soldiers he raised us to be—chins lifted to accept our fate while determined to plead our case—in seeing the damage we’d done, we both faltered. The more he unraveled, the more our argument paled, our fight lessening as he leapt between agony and fury—both devastating. “Tell me, brothers...word for word, how you deceived me for three months.”

Our sentence passed? Ten months. Ten fucking months.

Three times as many as I admitted we’d been deceiving him, adding another to ensure we knew just how much his faith in us had been destroyed.

“Tell me every single thing you did, every purposeful lie you told me, every move you made to betray me this way, to keep me in the dark, and then...tell me how you love...tell me you love me.”

With our every objection refused and dismissed—even after openly admitting we loved her—we agreed to his soul-crushing sentence.

What he told us next had us reeling. Before we’d had a chance to intercept, Tobias had outed himself to Cecelia. Sean and I firmly believed at the time that collision annihilated any hopes we had of convincing him of her place with us. That he saw what I saw when he laid his eyes on her. That he perceived her as a na?ve and innocent girl with no business in our business, no place in our world, and no promise. He had not a single fuck to give about any of our admissions because he couldn’t see past his devastation.

“I can’t even fucking look at you!”

He hasn’t since. Not once.

Drunk to the point of nearly passing out, his words and mindset were crystal clear. As Tyler drove Tobias away, we chose his sentence and the club, our brothers, and our purpose, believing if there was a way to get her back, to lessen its length, we’d find it. That Tobias would forgive us, reduce our time, and bring us home.

It was his ultimatum of no contact with her that had us raw as we tied up any loose ends before we broke our lives down into boxes. Sean and I turning over our townhouse keys to Tyler as movers herded our shit out to storage until our future was decided. My suspicions were that Tyler was already living elsewhere and remained tight-lipped about it during the move. Neither of us gave him shit about it because he spared us his own backlash for his strained relationship with Tobias, along with a promise to vigilantly watch over Cecelia.

This is all we could ask for because even as he did promise to guard her, we didn’t get to know anything else.

But it was the last day—the day we were leaving for the airport, that refused and still refuses to release me.

“RB just texted,” Sean says, checking his burner behind the wheel before turning his engine over. “Cecelia’s at the Apple Festival. Alone. I’m going.”

“No,” I jerk my head, even as my heartbeat ramped up.

“I have to, man,” his voice a plea. “I have to see her. Give her something,” he snapped as he pulled out of King’s garage, turning in the direction of Main Street—decision solidified. “Ten fucking months, Dom.”

I lost that dispute before it started, too lost in my own shit to put up much of a fight—all of it drained from me with the dread of the months ahead. My real battle began as I sat idle in his Nova, hand on the handle as hellacious minutes ticked by and our flight time drew closer. Mere blocks away, she was somewhere in the crowd, aware of the truth about my parents and Tobias’s existence, aware that we lied and manipulated her, but unaware of where we were going and for how long. Forbidden to make her cognizant unless we want our wings clipped. The only thing I urged Sean to tell her and he refused before exiting. “I’ve already told her that day is coming, and she’ll wait, Dom. She will.”

After ten minutes in that fucking car, the overwhelming urge to leave her with something from me had me stepping out just as Sean stalked back down the alley to his driver’s door, looking as fucked as I felt. His return had my heart hitting concrete that I missed my own window. We had a plane to catch, and if we missed it, we may never fly again. My dashed hopes had me spiraling until I turned and saw Cecelia racing straight toward us.

Toward me.

Stopping feet away as she looked up, and our eyes connected.

“Please, Dom. Please don’t go.”

Turning toward the window, instead of the late-night backdrop, all I can visualize is that sun-drenched day in an alley thousands of miles away. A moment in time I can’t get back, no matter how fucking much I want it. I don’t even have to close my eyes to see it vividly—long hair blowing around her face, watery blue eyes pleading as tears for me roll down her cheeks, hands pressed to her chest with her confession.

“I love you.”

It was the opposite of what I expected.

It wasn’t anger that greeted me when she cornered Sean and me in that alley but a mix of determination and vulnerability in her expression before she fell apart with her confession. We’d readied her as much as we could without the full truth, but judging from the look of her, she was suffering as much as we were. She knew the truth about our deception, and she still loved us.

Loved me.

There was no trace of hatred for the fact we’d wronged her so horribly, lied to her, deceived her. She tracked me down. She’d followed Sean to make sure I knew she loved me. That no matter where I was taking that love, she was willing to let me pack and part with it, even if I didn’t deserve it.

All I can see is anguish twisting her flawless face, the desperation in her voice as she moved toward me, and I jerked my chin, refusing her, denying us both as my brother’s warning played barrier.

But the true reason was, if I so much as took another step toward her, I never would have gotten back in that car.

But I made the decision. I chose my brother and the club. I left her there without returning the sentiment or giving her anything she deserved after she did the impossible and forgave me.

Leaving those words unreturned is a regret I’ll carry until the day I die, even if I do get a chance at redemption. I never once truly deserved her love, trust, loyalty, or faithful heart.

Fuck my brother for denying me that moment, for being the very reason I’m ripped right down the fucking middle and have been for these long torturous fucking months. It’s been far too many days since I’ve laid eyes on her, heard her voice, her laugh, drank in the look in her eyes, touched her, fucked her, let myself love her.

Every mile between us ripped me apart as we sped toward the airport. Sean remained wordless the entire ride. It was only when we silently commiserated in wait for the plane that Sean again tried to console me, surety in both tone and delivery. “She’ll wait for us, Dom. She will.”

It was as our flight was about to board that it occurred to me that Tobias and Cecelia might have collided at Roman’s house. It’s when I voiced as much to Sean—realizing that I was still privy to the camera feed—that he perked up as I frantically searched the recorded storage of that day. Seconds later, my throat burned as we were granted a parting gift.

As our flight was called, Sean and I watched the soundless standoff play out from every angle at the pool. Mortified as Tobias hovered over her and tried to humiliate her by hiding her bikini top, which had us both fucking fuming.

It was after enduring a few tense minutes of his berating that she came back swinging with the same ferocity, hitting him with the lotion bottle in the back of the head as Sean and I shared a pride-filled expression and loud chuckle, both of us in fucking awe of her. Though we couldn’t hear a damned word of it, we didn’t really have to, the body language between them telling enough from what we caught. From the second they collided—our worst fear playing out before our eyes—we knew that conversation was damned. Hostile posturing took place on both ends, and the back and forth was intense before Cecelia finally snapped and engaged him with her real power—pleading with her heart to his retreating back. Sean’s eyes reddened as we both watched her while dragging our suitcases down the jetway, knowing that whatever she was saying was for us—while she hoped her heart-filled plea would somehow sink in.

After watching it again, Sean spoke up, red-rimmed eyes on mine. “Leave it to our girl to have us lusting after her one second, terrified the fucking next, and laughing before leaving us aching and in awe of her. We never had a chance, Dom.” His next words were jarring, part serious, part joke, as he glanced back at the screen with a love-soaked expression. “If she ever fucking forgives us, let’s fucking marry her.”

We watched the footage twice more before we were forced to power down the burner, both of us equally fucked up. Guilted by the fight she gave for us—which we failed to give for her—we shared a long look before manning up to start serving our sentence. His words mimicking my thoughts as we sped down the runway. “She’s worth it.”

Never truer words spoken.

But where time used to blur for me, and days and dates passed without remembrance, the days and nights I spent with her appear with every beat in my chest, an engraved timestamp.

I swore I would try to forget her the minute Tobias looked at me the way he did the night he confronted us in the parking lot—face etched with devastation. It was as if he realized we weren’t worth it—that I wasn’t worth it.

It was the worst I’ve ever felt in my life, next to leaving her in that alley.

It was as if Sean and I had broken him, and in a way, I think we did.

All I wanted to do was make it right, fuck my heart, and the trouble it caused me. Fuck me for knowing what getting involved with her would do to him and falling anyway, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to regret it.

“I love you.”

My eyes pop open as though she’s whispered it directly into my ear. Those last cutting seconds paralyze me to a place, in that alley, thousands of miles away, to an unreachable point in time, where I exist—in purgatory.

“I want in. Please let me in.”

“You are in.”

“You’re in too deep, baby. Fuck,” I whisper as a flash of lightning fills the room, and sleeping forms light up around me.

Another rainy day. Without her.

Running my hand through my cropped hair, I move to sit at the edge of the bed—skin slicked with sweat due to the useless unit recycling moldy air in the corner. Clenching my fists, my heart jogs into panic mode at the idea that she’ll be leaving Triple Falls when the summer ends.

She’s twenty now, her future about to kick off, and if Roman kept his word, she’s a millionaire. Her world is still wide open, her options limitless, while mine feels like it’s starting to close in on me. As promised, I cut every communication with her.

We’ve been flying in the dark for the entirety of our time here, and the kicker? It’s voluntary.

If a case for a silver lining could be made, it’s that we’ve made good progress in our time here. I’ve met relatives who’ve enlightened me further about my parents—before they became parents. The stories are wild and, at times, unbelievable. About Delphine as well, who had a colorful past, too. I now know she omitted parts of it to spare me, but those details had me making peace with a lot, and I’ll make it a point to let her know that. Tobias and I had it breezy compared to her. To this day, I can’t believe she survived what she has—for that, she’s earned my respect.

Lightning flashes again, filling the room. A rumble of thunder follows as I crack my neck, muscles fatigued from my earlier struggle today. We successfully executed our last coup before our return to Triple Falls. One we’ve been planning for weeks. I had a close call, wrestling with a fucker twice my size, who spit putrid breath and French in my face before I managed to get my barrel to his chin and end his tirade permanently.

Sean and I both passed on the celebratory dinner and drinks offered, much to our chaperone’s dismay. While Sean sleeps above me, our designated babysitters—Julien and Albert—snore in their equally lumpy bunks on the other side of the room. All of my roommates are in an exhausted sleep that I’ve failed to follow.

Julien has been my biggest ally in my last six months here since we made our way from the southern coast of France to the outskirts of Paris—and, as of a week ago—moved to this dumpster hostel within the city. Even though our stint in France is voluntary, as the months passed, we seemed to go from remote areas to eventually graduating to a city. Maybe a tactic of Tobias’s to inform us wordlessly that we’re gradually earning his trust back.

In that respect, we’ve fucking earned it.

Credit where it’s due, Julien is the one who’s made this time for us most fruitful. Fresh out of his five-year stint in the French military, Julien was brought in, in consideration of getting inked by Ormand, one of Tobias’s French raven partners. Julien sparked my interest immediately with his calculated moves and the fact that I got little past him—not that I tried much. After doing a little digging by way of Albert—who, frankly, is too fucking slow on the uptake to cover Sean and me—I found Julien’s military training and impressive education made him a prime candidate and recruit for me and the purpose I armed myself with when I got to France.

That said, Julien’s a stubborn son of a bitch, so much so, it’s sometimes comical. It took me almost a week to get his attention in private to try and convince him of whom he was guarding during his grunt work phase as a recruit of the club. To convince him that I was the brother of the man behind the curtain, the half-French half-American ringleader running this show. He clearly saw us as no more than two arrogant American assholes in their mid-twenties that he had to monitor for reasons unknown to him.

I let him in on that secret.

He’s not much of a romantic and comically berated me and Sean for it for hours. It was hilarious.

Once I finally got through to the fucker, my instincts paid off in spades. By day as we did our recon on raven marks, he also helped me gather some much-needed intel I’d been lacking and in search of for years.

It was also when I realized how far Antoine had his hooks into my brother and what leverage he holds over his head. Tobias not only strengthened the French fuck’s organization in return for minimal help, certain connections, and privileges, but he’s also made it the strongest and most feared underground kingdom in France. By reputation alone, no one will dare cross Antoine, and it’s Tobias’s goddamn fault.

He’s fucking created a near indestructible army, and if he so much as steps in the wrong direction with Antoine, the land mines my brother himself set will blow up in his face. We aren’t going out like this. I refuse to let him be beholden to this sick fuck. He wants me nowhere near Antoine. It’s clear why—I’m my brother’s only weakness.

I believe Antoine knows it, no matter how good Tobias’s poker face is. In turn, Tobias has become a monster’s puppet— for me.

A fact I cannot turn my back on. A fact that hammered that guilt nail in, cementing me here to serve my time and rectify the situation.

Julien is key.

Because he’s not at all on Tobias’s radar—a grunt on the bottom of the bird chain—Julien can slip out at any time unnoticed. We don’t work like other organizations with death threats until the ink dries. Even then, it’s not a blood-out situation. With Julien and me diligently working to put a plan in place, as of today, we cemented a long-term strategy to get my brother out of Antoine’s clutches and bring him down while taking over the army Tobias himself built.

In a matter of a year or two, Julien will be the first undercover raven to infiltrate Antoine’s army. Once established there, he’ll start the recruitment process to lure in other ravens to create an effective sleeping giant. When awoken at the most optimal time—sadly for Antoine—it will be game over. This giant to serve the same purpose and be just as effective if executed properly. It will take time, but it will work.

Sean’s aware of it, and as soon as I can safely brief Tyler, he’ll be the only other to know.

But the sadder truth of discovering the flipside of my brother’s world is the condition in which he lives. A soldier without a true home, with absolutely nothing but the moves he makes and the hands he continually plays. I full-on fucking cried when I realized what lengths he’s taken to get us to where we are—along with the depth of his perpetual loneliness. That the luxuries he claims to love might be a mirage or an attempt to mask the isolation he must feel.

A hobby that came out of necessity to bide what little time he doesn’t spend taxing himself with keeping Antoine happy and our noses clean back in the States. Though Tobias’s warmth isn’t perceptible to any naked eye, its existence is far more prevalent than mine—and these people he surrounds himself with aren’t his fucking people.

His heart is useless because it’s only his mind he fuels.

Fourteen months ago, that was me.

I hate every facet of his world here, and I’m convinced he does too—suffering in silence and trapped with no sanctuary.

No comfort in a sound like the scratch and flip of a new page. No cloud to immerse in—limbs tangled in damp skin, hair tickling my nose, fingernails raking my chest, and soothing murmured words. He’s never had the escape of getting lost in love’s deep blues, in sinful lips, in a scent so addictive, it immediately gets him hard, or the gift of how breathy moans that reek of praise make a man feel invincible. If he only knew what it felt like to be looked at the way she fucking looks at me. Her dark-blue eyes searing through flesh and bone as if she could see every part inside and appreciate each one—no matter how well some of it works and some doesn’t.

Of having a woman who fucking understands him and refuses to let him back down from who he truly is, of freeing him.

She sought me out, fed my starving heart, and resurrected it. She dragged the weakening organ out, kicking and screaming...but it’s out, and it steadily beats for her.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

There’s no going back. This shit’s not reversible.

You can’t unlove someone because you’re ordered to. His belief that it’s possible shows how immature his heart is.

He may have posed the decision, but my heart had already made the fucking choice before I began serving a minute here.

I chose my brother the night he sentenced us—and every day since, the guttural burn that I carry keeps telling me it was a mistake.

You chose wrong.

Hell’s true definition is living out the wrong decision.

My jaw clenches with the realization as I stare up at the black-molded ceiling of my prison.

My shackles invisible but there.

If I walk out of this hostel, I’m free. But if I do, I’ll never be let in again.

It’s a mindfuck, and one I no longer want to participate in.

Hurting him that way broke something inside of me, too. Something between us we may never be able to get back. And that’s on me, so I’ve done what I can to fix it, but he’s tearing me apart in seeking satisfaction.

Because he doesn’t have a fucking clue what it’s like to feel it, so he doesn’t understand his current demand.

Cecelia would never let me forsake my relationship with my brother. Her heart is far too evolved. But sadly, Tobias’s isn’t.

Lightning flickers through the shadows, and I rip my earbuds out, listening for the thunder. It inevitably sounds a few beats later, rumbling throughout the room as the faint stream of David Bowie playing between my fingers reminds me of a time I lay beneath a starlight sky with the woman haunting me.

With our silence, has she washed her hands of us altogether?

Quietly dressing, I slip into my boots, grabbing Julien’s burner, which he now leaves for me every night.

In my mind, these days, weeks, and months have been pointless, and every single one has felt like the sentence it is. I feel like my heart can only resume its rightful beat when I’m back in Triple Falls, and my brother can look me in the eye—until I can find her hand in the midst of this shit.

The time we spent together is starting to feel more like a distant daydream. And the worst part is, the longer I stay here without her, the more it will remain one. Even when we get back to Triple Falls, I won’t find her on that street—waiting.

Or is she?

Shutting the door behind me, I trek down the hall, making my way out of the hostel and into the storm. She probably hates us both for deserting her without promise. For not fighting Tobias harder. For remaining silent. We aren’t helpless. We could have refused to come and engineered a new way to move forward and around my brother. Being here is a choice, remains a choice, a pledge of allegiance, and most importantly, an apology. One he deserves.

But at this point, I’m getting pretty fucking sick of apologizing.

I’m not afraid to go head-to-head with whatever waits around the corner, but I’m terrified her hand will no longer be there when I reach for it.

Abandoning cover, I let the rain surround me, my skin eagerly soaking it in like it’s been starved.

Every day is starting to feel like a day too late. There’s a panic that’s snaked its way in the last few weeks and is beginning to fester in my chest.

And it’s changing—right now.

We left her mind racing and her confused heart gaping. Any vulture that comes along now is likely to devour her, to pick at her piece by piece until there’s nothing left. The idea of her moving on makes me physically fucking ill. The thought of that has jealousy rooting deep.

I have to get to her.

Tobias is just going to have to accept it. She deserves more than being left on a deserted street with a shady explanation. If this time has taught me anything, it’s that I know exactly who the fuck I am and what I want, and I don’t have to have my brother’s permission to have it.

Time. Fucking. Served.

Sentence over.

Without another thought, I press send on the burner phone, and he answers on the second ring.

“Dom?”

“Tyler,” I rasp out, freely bleeding as her voice whispers through the rain.

“I love you.”

“Tyler, I fucked up,” I relay, as the water sheets down around me, thunder rolling down the quiet residential street.

I hear the concern in his voice. “What’s going on?”

Muting myself until I can speak, I feel his anxiety spike over the line. “Dom?”

“I need a favor,” I croak.

More silence. And we both know why. He’s already walking a thin line with Tobias and knows exactly what I’m about to ask for.

“You’ll be home in a week,” he reminds me.

“I don’t give a fuck! I’ve done nearly ten goddamn months. Don’t you think that calls for a little fucking acknowledgment? He was here yesterday and didn’t fucking bother speaking to us. I don’t even know if it’s worth this shit if he won’t even talk to us anymore. Things won’t be the same no matter what we do. Why the fuck am I even here?”

“Dom,” he says in a tone that insinuates I should know better. And I do but fuck this. “You saw him.”

I did. And he was inconsolable. Aside from the day of my parents’ funeral, I’ve never seen him cry. Even then, he was alone when I caught him, but my decision is made. “If he wants to live like a fucking monk for the rest of his life, that’s on him.”

“You know that’s not why.”

I slam my fist into the mailbox next to me. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“You’re doing it. Hang in there, seven days, and you’re home.”

“It’s not just me,” I snap, thinking of Sean and how the time here has altered him. I’m not even sure he recognizes the changes in himself. “Sean’s...he’s not doing good, okay? I wonder if he even gives a fuck.”

“He does. It’s been all over him,” he assures.

Closing my eyes, I try to reason with myself to wait. What we’re doing fucking matters and matters a lot. We broke the rules. You can’t break the rules in our club. No exceptions. At the same time, my pockets are empty, and the price is getting too high.

“I need this, Tyler. I know what I’m asking, man. But I need this.”

“Name it.”

I grip the back of my neck in relief. “Get us the fuck out of here. Right now.”

“Dom, it’s a week.”

“And I’m calling it!” I snap. “Time served for good fucking behavior, but I’m telling you right now, if I’m not on a plane in the next few hours following him home, that will no longer be the case. It’s time to have this out with him and figure it out. I’m not asking him for permission anymore. You know we’ve done our part. Get us the fuck out of here.” Closing my eyes, I hear the guttural plea in my request. “Please.”

I feel it—the urgency, the crushing itch to get back to her. It’s been there, but it’s never been this strong. Even as I think it, my gut tells me it may already be too late.

“If he finds out...it won’t be good. You sure about this?”

“That’s where you come in. Just mute our watchdogs for enough time to get us home so we don’t have to deal with it. I need you to work your magic and make it quiet and painless. I’ll explain myself to my brother when the time comes—if I fucking feel like it—but I’m telling you, the longer I fucking stand here, the more I resent him for it. I honestly don’t give a fuck what his reaction is anymore.” I man up in a way I never thought I would or be inclined to. “I fell in love, and it’s not a fucking crime, and you of all people know it’s nondiscriminatory about the fucking who...how is she?”

Silence.

“We’re fucking grown-ups, Tyler. Let’s stop with the bullshit. I don’t fault you, the same way you aren’t faulting me right now. How is Delphine?”

“She just got her last scan done, and we get the results tomorrow or the day after, but she’s gone almost eleven months without a sip,” he relays, pride clear in his voice.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I rasp out, emotion getting the best of me.

Eleven months. Which means she was already sober when I took her to Pretty Place. That was the change I noticed in her, and Tyler was the significant thing that happened.

Emotion burns in my chest, my eyes stinging. She was sober. “I...I don’t know what to say.”

“ She kicked it, Dom, not me, and she’s still fighting...she’s fucking happy.”

The back of my throat burns. “Good, you both deserve it, especially her,” I say honestly. “We all fucking do,” I tell him. “And my bill here is settled. I’m not paying for it another goddamn day for loving her. Do you hear me?”

Tyler’s lingering silence sends my mind racing. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”

“There’s a direct flight leaving in a few hours,” he offers.

Relief washes over me as my eyes catch on a woman taking her dog on a late-night walk. She’s carrying a Louis Vuitton umbrella and matching leash.

I decide I’m never coming back to France.

She draws closer on her heels, her mile-long legs encased by thigh-high shorts. Her thin top has a little bow that lies in the middle of the cut in the chest, showcasing ample cleavage. Primed and packaged. She looks buzzed as she passes me, her gaze lingering enough to know she’s fair game. When our eyes meet, she smiles in invitation as she passes, her frizzy dog leading her down the street. I can’t remember the last time I really looked at any woman—save one.

“Dom?”

“Book it.”

An hour later, Albert is hooded as Julien gives me the dip of his chin in farewell before he’s covered, just as Sean lands next to where I stand. Glock trained on those apprehending our babysitters as I bat his arm away before he can focus and fire.

“Little slow on the reaction time, brother,” I chuckle as I pull my duffle from beneath the bed as our babysitters are dragged from the room. Sean turns to me, eyes wide. “What the fuck is happening right now?”

“Get dressed and packed. We’re fucking going home.”

“I’m the man who would step in front of a bullet for either one of you, no questions asked, but I’m also the man who held your fucking hands before I shaped them into fists. I’m the same man—up until I met her—who put you both above everyone else. But right now, who am I right now? I’m the man who loves her enough to not let anyone or anything in front of her.”

—Tobias, The Finish Line