Page 131 of Hate Me

Primed.

Ready.

Jett had thought he could get inside my head, get under my skin, by coming back to the place where it had all begun with him.

The fight club where we’d met.

Where things in my life had taken a majorly fucked-up turn.

Not long ago, his tactic would have worked. It would have made me rage and lose control, becoming a merciless animal driven by violence and the bloodlusting need to inflict pain and punishment at all costs, consequences be damned.

But I was different now.

I was better. Getting there, at least. It wasn’t something that would automatically switch off over a few weeks. It would require consistent effort and therapy to heal properly.

At least, I was at a place now where I could control my actions, where I could adhere to strategy and maintain reason.

Where I wouldn’t lose control.

“He’s carrying a shit-ton of weight on his back. As strong and as resilient as he is, there’s only so much anybody can bear before they break, and I’m fucking worried about him. We need to take some of that burden off him. You with Damien. And you by proving that you can handle this Jett shit when the time comes.”

Caleb’s words to Bastian and I concerning the heavy burden that Caspian was carrying.

And I would take some of that weight off him by handling this.

I wouldn’t fuck it up, I wouldn’t cause him further grief. I wouldn’t cause any of them further pain and worry.

They’d done so much for me, given me so much. Their understanding, their support, their love and adoration. It was my turn to reciprocate through dealing with this the proper way tonight.

As I continued to stare out at the fight club, specifically the apartment building attached to the side of the venue, I felt an approach.

I turned to see Caleb returning from conferring with his team.

He smiled at me, his hand slipping into mine and giving it a comforting squeeze. “Almost there, darling. They’re moving into position now, preparing the explosives to breach the two steel doors at the east and west ends of the site.”

I nodded my understanding. “Jett has added two more bodyguards.” I pointed at the two pacing up and down the wraparound balcony of the apartment.

“I’m aware. It won’t be a problem. I’ll clear the way of the additional two. You make a beeline for the apartment interior itself. Jett is yours, we’ll handle the obstacles.”

“You trust me to go in there with him on my own?”

“You’re in a good place. Stable and focused. Our sessions have been working, you’ve been open to them, put a lot of effort in too, which has enabled you to make great progress. Your blocks are firmly in place. So, yeah, I trust that you can do this without going off the deep end.”

He smiled at me and eased away to pull his balaclava on.

I sucked in a breath and shored up my focus, cracking my gloved knuckles, then shifting in my Onyx gear, the leather like a second, protective skin, the familiarity rolling over me, and the power I always felt when I wore it to go into battle.

Moments later, it happened.

The thunder, the creaking and decimation of metal, as Caleb’s team breached the doors.

Our signal.

“Let’s move,” Caleb said.

He led the way, both of us bolting toward the wooden stairs that led up to the apartment building. The explosions had alerted the two big-ass guards on the balcony and one of them started running down the stairs, the other moving tight to the apartment door.

Caleb bolted up the stairs and tackled the guy making his way down, slamming him down painfully onto his back.

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