Page 70 of Torment
“It can wait,” he growls softly. “I’m not leaving her.”
My eyes dart back and forth between them confused.
“What’s going on?”
“Yes, you are. I’ve got her, and she’s not going back there until the situation is dealt with.” Parker orders.
Odd.
Karson Tate, the man who doesn’t take orders from anyone, not even Elias, straightens his spine as my best friend speaks.
“What’s going on?” I ask, louder this time.
Karson lets out a harsh breath and his eyes meet mine.
“Something I need to take care of before you can go back home.”
He glares at Parker for a second, pissed she’s right. Then, his eyes soften–not in defeat, but trust. He comes back to my side, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.
“I’ll be back,” he promises and I smile softly up at him.
He leans down, and plants a soft kiss to my busted lips, then stands. He looks at Parker once more, then exits the room. The door clicks softly behind him and I focus my gaze on Parker, eyes narrowing.
“Tell me what’s happening,” I say firmly as she lowers herself to the end of the bed.
“They got who attacked you.”
Outside the room, I hear the distant echo of Karson’s heavy footsteps down the hall. A chill runs through me, deeper than the cold from the courtyard ever was.
And I know, this isn’t over.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The hospital doorsslide shut behind me with a soft mechanical hiss. Too soft when everything inside my head is still so loud.
The scent of antiseptic clings to my clothes. Her blood is still under my nails no matter how hard I scrubbed. The fluorescent lights fade behind me as the cold night air hits my face, sharp and immediate. It doesn’t calm anything. If anything, it makes it worse.
Maverick leans against the hood of my Camaro at the edge of the lot, arms folded, watching me the way men watch storms they know they can't stop. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t ask how she is. He already knows.
I don’t slow as I approach. He pushes off the car and walks over to the passenger side without a word, and we both settleinside. The engine turns over, rumbling deep inside my bones, waking my demons.
The city falls away fast.
For a while, neither of us say anything. The early morning sun tries to peek out behind thick, gray clouds, and the shadows bounce off the windshield. The highway hums beneath my tires. My right hand rests loosely on the gear shift, but every muscle in my body is coiled tight enough to snap bone.
“Cole’s got him secured.” Maverick’s voice cuts through the silence, cold and detached.
I nod once. “Anyone else?”
“No.”
Good.
That makes this simple.
The warehouse sitsan hour away from Perdition, past the edge of anything that pretends to be civilized. No neighbors. No cameras. No witnesses. Just concrete, charred wood and silence. The kind of place where answers get pulled out of people one way or another. The kind of place Owen should have never ended up. The tension in my shoulders eases slightly at the familiar sight as I drive through the overgrown weeds.
My playground.
