Page 141 of Seizing Control: Part One

A tenacious streak a mile wide.

The tentative truce she’s forced on Diablo.

Gabbi is unstoppable and awe-inspiring.

She makes me feel like I might get through this mess in one piece.

“I’ll call you when I get home?” The tattooed brunette averts her eyes. A shy cast floods her face, a reaction that’s at odds with her ballsy appearance. Her cheeks redden as she extricates herself from my hug. “Or not... you know. I’ll be busy with training. You have so much happening here... with Zeke and?—”

“Call me at any time.” Holding up the new phone that she brought with her, I grin. “You and the M&M girls are the only ones with my number right now. With the rest of them overseas, I’m counting on you to break up the daily tirades about Sander and his inability to put his dirty socks in the hamper instead of on top of it.” In the wake of my teasing, my best friend snorts, then she bursts into laughter that contains as much grace as a choking donkey. The sound is enough to make Gabbi smile. I touch the purple tulip just below her collarbone, the grief I’m trying to snub penetrates my tone when I say, “Seriously, you have been awesome. Without your idea to move into the farmhouse, I’d be landing in Philadelphia about now.”

“Well,” Serena pouts. She rolls her eyes and flicks her long hair over her shoulder. “I still think it would’ve been a damn good plan.”

“You just wanted to cause trouble,” her stepsister, Ziva, retorts.

They giggle, and it sets me, Nadia, and Indi off.

Gabbi looks at the five of us like we’re insane, and it only makes us worse.

When the helicopter interrupted Zeke’s funeral, and the vision in the video that Cub, Hunter, Toker, and my brothers forced me to watch was further etched in my head by the sight of the body inside the broken casket, my plan to move in with Toker was aborted. His office is empty, and before I ditched my old phone, his urgent voicemails and texts told me that he was frantic with worry over that fact.

They all were.

It didn’t sway me from my longing to escape my shattered life.

The Moscato & Monet club offered me a safe way out. I could run away to London, New York, or Philadelphia. Overwhelmed by my life, by all the loss surrounding me, I almost accepted the vacant seat on Ziva and Serena’s private jet, before Gabbi stepped up. Her calmness in the midst of carnage was my saving grace. I can’t face anyone other than my girls—the Shamrocks, my brothers, my cousin, but especially my husband.

Slash is a mess, not just from the punch to the face and the knee to the groin that I landed, but from his own guilt. I can feel his shame, and I understand it. Because I am the same. Everyone is mourning, and I don’t want to face their sorrow when I’m doing my best to deny my own.

Gabbi pointed out that leaving the country wouldn’t solve anything. Her suggestion that I move into Hades’ abandoned farmhouse once the Blackards SMC returns to Sydney was the best compromise. I got the space I wanted without completely abandoning my entire family in case I needed them.

Or they needed me...

A situation I can’t see occurring any time soon.

Daughter of a rat.

Ex-fiancée to a dead club brother.

Sister of men who’ve been hurt for the Shamrocks.

Wife to a husband who runs at the first sight of struggle.

I don’t have a place in my own life anymore.

The energy to carve out a new niche evades me too.

“I’ve got to go,” Gabbi tells me. I realise that my burst of humour has died off abruptly. Each woman is watching me with varying degrees of worry crumpling their pretty features. My eyes are sore from crying too much. The fatigue in my body is bone deep. Still, I return the ferocity in Gabbi’s hug and nod my agreement when she pulls me close again. “We’ll talk regularly... any time you need me.”

Living the life I do, genuinely connecting with people is hard.

My newly cemented bond with Gabriella Mitchell is real.

Her spirit gels with mine, and I can see how she worked her way under Zeke’s shield.

“That goes both ways.”

Inclining my head, I whisper, “Deal.”

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