Page 181 of Making Choices

Kidnapped by our father’s faction. Hung in the Shamrocks concrete bunker. Beaten to the point of unconsciousness more than once. His leg broken. His scoring arm dislocated. My dad deliberately got Sander high, not only destroying his sobriety, but potentially ruining his career. Basketball is my brother’s life. The sacrifices he’s made are innumerable. Probably immeasurable.

One of the biggest losses lays next to him.

Nadia doesn’t stir under my intense perusal, so I decide to leave them to sleep.

As much as I already knew most of my best friend’s origin story, some of the things I learnt last night shocked me. She’s been to hell and back, and while it doesn’t excuse her behaviour at times, it damn well explains it.

Of course, Nadia and Sander aren’t my priority today.

I have a man to save from prison.

Zeke’s ridiculous plan hinges on too many “what ifs” for us to rest on our laurels.

As I make my way down the staircase, the second man in my life meets me halfway.

“You should be sleepin’,” Slash tells me.

“I need to drop into the office before I head to the lockup.”

The big man blocking my way doesn’t move when I try to continue down the stairs.

“Slash.”

I try again.

He places a hand on each banister and widens his stance. “Go back to bed, duchess.”

“I’m going to the office.”

“He won’t see you.”

The four words are said so low that I barely register them at first. “Come again?”

“If you try to see him, you’ll be turned away.”

“What the fuck!” Stepping onto the step immediately before the one Slash is standing on, I leave less than an inch between us as I peer up at him through narrowed eyes. The goddamn, stubborn as ever, giant meets me with an unblinking stare. “Move or I’ll move you. We both know Zeke wants to see me.”

“He doesn’t.”

“He. Does.” Slash offers me a downcast head shake. I press on in spite of it. “Whatever sick power-play you’re pulling here won’t stop me.”

“Ain’t pullin’ nothin’ here... I tried to argue the point. He won’t budge.”

“You’ve spoken to him? Seen him?”

“We spoke this mornin’... Gabriel’s meetin’ me at the lockup later today to finalise things for his bail hearin’.”

As the truth in his words set in, every ounce of love, every skerrick of affection, every feeling, admitted and denied that I hold for Slash evaporates. Poof. It’s all gone. Instead, my head pounds with hatred and worry and fear and... just everything. Like a cyclone, defeat whips through me. It steals my breath. Taints my tastebuds. Fills my ears with static.

The torment of the past six months hits me all at once.

My vision wavers.

My fingers itch.

Visions of a razor enter my head.

The skin on my belly and the top of my thighs burns.

---