Take It On The Run

Chapter 50

POV: Avery

The last time I'd felt this low was the day Sloan had faux-died. He captivity seemed to trigger some dormant grief I'd believed to be long gone.

Deacon had been right, I'd risked Sloan's life twice now, and there was no excuse for it. I was supposed to be the problem solver, the responsible one who always took care of everyone else before they ever realized something was wrong. But I barely recognized myself lately. I'd become impulsive, selfish, and desperate.

Perhaps that was why I couldn't stop pacing the length of my room. I had already run six miles on Mr. Dawson's treadmill this evening, along with doing hundreds of burpees, weightlifting, and more, but I was still full of restless energy.

Three days had passed since I'd slipped Sloan the phone at the salon, and my shame and grief were worse than ever. She still hadn't called or texted me back.

I didn't know what Sloan and Murphy had done in his bedroom a few days ago, but she'd managed to find the bug in his room and killed that too. Mr. Dawson hadn't taken the news well. Aside from the bugs in other parts of the house and the hacked phone calls, we were mostly in the dark now.

My chest tightened at the thought of her feeling scared and alone. It made me want to vomit.

I showered off and sat on my bed for a few minutes before deciding to explore the rest of the house. I was going stir-crazy and driving myself mad with anxiety. I needed a distraction. Maybe I could find Mr. Dawson's study and bang out a few chapters or some poems on a computer.

Except when I wandered into the hallway, I wasn't alone. Deacon and Reed were deep in discussion. That in and of itself wasn't out of the ordinary. What was strange, though, was the fact that they were dressed to go out clubbing.

"Nice PJs," I drawled, startling the pair into stunned silence. "So all those lectures about making rogue decisions and putting Sloan at risk and the dangers of being recognized at the club were total horseshit, then?"

"Well, clearly you're going to do whatever the fuck you want to do, Avery," Deacon snapped. "So I'm going to clean up your goddamn mess and make sure Sloan doesn't give up on us."

I chuckled mirthlessly, folding my arms over my chest. "Keep telling yourself that."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he demanded as he squared his shoulders, a muscle ticking along his jaw.

I lifted my chin. "You act like you're on some noble damsel-in-distress quest to save her when in reality, you're full of jealousy, Deacon. You're worried she'll choose him over us."

His cobalt eyes flashed. "So what if I am? Can you honestly say you're not worried about it too? Why the fuck else would you have risked slipping that phone to her?"

"Guys," Reed intervened. "Fighting amongst ourselves isn't helping anyone except Liam Murphy."

"Maybe not. But it feels damn good," Deacon replied just before charging me at full speed.

I blocked his massive fist just in time and swung at him with my other hand. He blocked the maneuver, grid locking us.

"Goddamnit," Reed cursed. "We don't have time for this."

"No. Let him get it out of his system, Reed," I suggested as I spun away and squared off with him again. I'd felt D's rage in his heavy silence over these last few days, and he needed to take it out on the source, which was me. I needed to take my own self-loathing and frustration out on someone too. "Besides, kicking Deacon's ass would significantly improve my day."