"On the ground," Ace instructs, his voice steady and low. I gawk at him, my eyes bugging from their sockets.
"You're kidd-"
"Do as he says," Viper mutters into his glass. I catch a couple of glances from men across the table, their gazes assessing...
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Ace
I awoke this morning with a dull ache in my chest that refused to go away. The remnants of Wren were still on my tongue, and I had to scrub my mouth with my toothbrush to feel like my head was screwed on straight finally.
The anxiety, sickness, and torment have yet to wane, and continue to swarm my body like a tidal wave—something I haven't felt since I put my little girl six feet under.
After taking a scorching shower that felt like the pelting water was melting the flesh from my bones, I realized that it did nothing to ease my nerves. I knew exactly what I needed to do to get a grip on myself.
Now, I stand at a grave with a headstone marker with carved dates that span six years—way too fucking short for me to even think God has a play in our lives.
How could a God exist when a piece of my soul is buried beneath my feet? How could God exist when innocent women, children even, have their innocence and life ripped from them by devils dressed as men?
I'm no saint—I'm aware of that, but fuck—I'm just trying to get out of this mess I've made, and hopefully with Wren by my side.
I place a small pink vase with flowers down near the headstone, arranging the blooming pink roses around until satisfied. I kneel by her grave and brush off the dirt to display her name.
MARRISSA ANNE PIERCE
I stare at the little bear carved next to her name and a feeling of sorrow tightens my throat, making breathing a chore.
"She was a good kid." I hear a Russian man speak from behind me. I freeze, and white-hot anger replaces my torment as I crane my neck around to see Alek standing behind me. He's dressed in a pressed suit with his hands shoved in his pockets and a cigar hanging from his lip. He looks down at me with feigned sympathy. I stand, turning toward him and towering a few feet above him so he has to bend his neck to look up at me, his body stalky but height nothing compared to mine. My hands clench at my sides, wondering where the fuck he got the audacity to show up after everything this man has done.
I must have been in my head to not hear him approach—I'm usually well aware of my surroundings.
"What are you doing here?" I snarl.
"Just checking in on my boy," He smacks my shoulder I stare at him, my lips tightly pressed together and jaw feathering. "I'm having a party tonight, Jack. I wanted to extend my invitation to you, take it as an olive branch. Come over, drink, eat—you know, for old times sake. I'll even let you see Wren if you wish, that is, if she's not tending to me." His sick smile spreads across his face and I long to wrap my fingers around the stump of his neck and watch the life drain from his eyes, but I refrain after my eyes catch his lackeys standing behind him—Ghost, or Cal, being one of them.
Fucking traitor.
I focus back to Alek who just gave us a one-way ticket through his doors. An easy way in—instead of having Ivan stick his neck out to hack through security and risk his own life for all of us. If caught, he'd be the first to go, since betrayal is met with a not-so-quick and painful death.
