Page 80 of Healed

“Wait—”

I pulled the gun away and straightened.

“Run. Five, four, three…”

Chapter 23

Vienna

Hours later, I found myself back at the bar, silently staring into my empty pint glass.

The club was ridiculously quiet. The other charters were busy in the other pub—on Dante’s instructions—and they had taken all the life with them. The old ladies followed where the party was, and the kids were already in bed.

The silence was bordering on eerie. I sat in darkness, not bothering with the overhead lights, trying to remember the last time the clubhouse had ever been this quiet.

The last time I had been left with just me and my own thoughts.

I avoided it for a reason. But tonight… tonight it was unavoidable.

I flexed my fingers, the dried blood crumbling in the cracks, and dropping down onto the bar. I brushed them away with the back of my hand, noticing my split knuckles and filthy fingernails.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself, clenching my fist, ignoring the sting of pain as my wounds reopened. As I shifted, I cringed at the dry, crackling sound my cut made. There was so much blood dried on me. My entire body felt stiff and raw. Dirty.

But I barely noticed it. I hardly noticed anything, really.

Because this wasn’t where I was supposed to be.

I wasn’t supposed to be drowning my sorrows in the bar. I wasn’t supposed to be covered in blood, having brutally ended yet another life. I wasn’t supposed to be doing any of this.

I was supposed to be with her.

I had spent a decade watching her every night, reassuring myself she was safe—and yet I’d either been deluded or lying to myself, because she was never safe, and I hadn’t fucking seen it.

I’d obsessed over her, stalked her, thought I was keeping tabs on her, and I’d failed her each and every night.

I’d watched her, even growing angry with her, placing blame on her shoulders for the distance between us and yet…

“Fuck this,” I muttered to the empty room and reached over the bar to pour myself another pint, knocking a few glasses to the floor as I did so.

“Idiot,” I muttered to myself.

“What the fuck is happening here?” Rachel snapped, racing into the bar.

“Watch your step,” I said, my lips barely moving. I paused just long enough to make sure she was okay, and then went back to my task.

Rachel gasped, side-stepping the glass, swallowing heavily at the small pile of destruction I’d caused. And then she raised her eyes to me, her head snapping back in shock.

“Oh, Vienna…” she said, her lips twisting with pity.

I just pulled the tap and let my glass fill up, bracing myself for my lecture.

It wasn’t a new occurrence. Rachel had raged at me roughly twice a week since she’d moved back here with Axel. So tonight should be no different.

She walked over to me, eying me warily, and then her hand closed over mine. “Here,” she said softly. “Let me.”

I watched her suspiciously as she tipped out the frothy mess I had been pouring and started fresh, filling my pint glass to the brim.

She silently placed it on the bar in front of me and then reached above, pulling down a bottle of whiskey. Without saying a word, she gently put a shot glass down and filled it up, and put the bottle back where it was.