no turning back

• twenty three •

tw: suicide

gladys

The slap of a flimsy screen door startled me awake. My gaze flew around the kitchen as it processed that I'd fallen asleep at the dining table.

Wiping drool from the corner of my lips, I twisted around in the chair to identify the source of the commotion. My heart leaped into my throat at the possibility of it being Raman.

Please tell me Eli didn't leave me here alone with him.

I had no doubt Raman would gladly kill me now, especially if he found out about Jesse.

Instead of those haunting, slate eyes, I found myself staring into a pair of familiar baby blues. My blood froze in my veins. He stared back at me in equal disbelief.

"Brant?" I gasped.

My focus rolled down his outfit before I quickly realized a crimson substance was smeared all down the front of his flannel and jeans. I glanced back at his face, my stomach sinking.

"Gladys, hey." He swallowed roughly. "Didn't expect you to be here so soon."

"What are you—how are you—why?" I croaked, blinking rapidly.

His eyes rolled to the floor as he licked at his lips. "Uh, I think I'm gonna go clean up."

I rose from the seat, ignoring the sore pang in my ass. The pitch darkness beyond the windows signaled that I hadn't been asleep too long.

"Wait, please," I said. "What are you doing here? I thought you were working for your dad. And why is there blood on you . . . ?"

Jaw clenched, he lowered his voice to a low grunt. "I have to go." He stalked through the house and up the staircase.

I chewed on my lower lip and tapped my fingers together before deciding to follow him. He went to the upstairs bedroom opposite where Jesse had been sleeping.

When he tried to close the door, I put my hand out to catch it. His eyes were a stormy thundercloud color as they collided with mine.

"This is not the time, Gladys," he snarled.

My brows collapsed inward.

"Unless you want to climb into the shower with me," he taunted, "and I don't think Elijah would let either of us tell that tale."

Despite all the questions and thoughts racing through my brain, his suggestion brought them all to a halting stop.

What was I doing anyway? He had fucking blood on him. He had killed something and, for all I knew, it was a person.

I backed away as an unsettled feeling crept over me. Turning on my heel, I rushed back down the hall and stairs. There was a peeved sigh and the sound of a slamming door followed me to the bottom floor.

My feet carried me to the door through which he'd come when he woke me. I pressed my hand to the inside glass window, peering out into the darkness. Everything in me screamed to run and not look back, but I knew better.

I'd wasted enough time running already and it had made this situation exponentially worse. I couldn't do that to myself or anyone else ever again. Even if it meant living the rest of my life according to a mafia king's rulebook.

Where the hell did Eli take me? What was this place? And what in god's name was Brant doing here?!

My next breaths came in wispy, anxious pants. I placed a hand over my aching chest.