Page 186 of Adam
Cain laughs under his breath as if he was expecting this, and Grayson shakes his head, pushing his glasses back into place.
Judas leans in, his eyes amused and twisted. There he is. There’s the beast I needed.
“You talk too much,” he hisses.
I chuckle, breathless on the floor. “And you’re finally interesting.”
He holds out his hand, and I take it without a word. He pulls me to my feet, then places my gun back in my hand, not even trying to hide the grin.
“Will you two ever get along?” Cain scoffs, crossing his arms.
“No!” me and Judas say in one voice.
“Boys,” Grayson scolds.
“Relax, I won’t kill him,” I mock, giving Judas a sidelong, playful glance.
As usual, this freak just sits there, calm as hell, like some deranged monk waiting for the apocalypse.
“Where’s your wife?” I ask Cain.
He smirks, rolling up his sleeves. “Safe in the house. And she’s not my wife. Yet. But she’ll come around.”
My eyes roll involuntarily. “Whatever.”
Then my gaze lands on Grayson, and … There it is, that old cocktail of guilt, affection, and regret. He’s the father I never fucking asked for but somehow got anyway. That poor bastard did his best.
He gave me what scraps of guidance he could and pointed me in a direction that wasn’t straight to hell.
And I repaid him by being a little bastard at every turn. Still do. Still sharp-tongued, still bitter, still clinging to grudges like they’re sacred relics. I don’t make room for forgiveness.
He took every punch I threw, emotional or otherwise, and never once threw me out. That pisses me off almost as much as it breaks me. Because I don’t deserve that kind of loyalty. Never have. Probably never will.
“What about you?” I nod. “Will you help me?”
He looks at me for a second longer. “Always, trouble. What do you want me to do?”
My grin stretches. “Open the doors for me, and I’ll burn it all down. Can you do that, old man?”
His smirk curls into something unhinged. Something new for him.
“I can crack the gates of hell, boy. Say the word and their whole system goes down.”
Yeah, that’s Grayson.
He hugs you like a father, snaps a guy’s arm without even blinking, then says it’s been a pretty chill day.
“Then let’s have some fun, boys.”
We three rideto that fucker’s mansion. I’m sure he’s been jerking off to the idea of me coming since I ripped that tracker out of Isabella and kept it blinking in my pocket. People run their mouths, say walking into Calvano’s nest is just digging our own grave with steak knives. They’re probably right. I don’t give a shit.
I didn’t need more men.
We’re not walking in with a plan. Just the three of us, because we’re fucked up enough in the head that, in the end, that’s enough.
I trust these two bastards like I trust my own heartbeat.
They went through military training that fucked them up in ways most people can’t even imagine.
