Page 106 of Seizing Control: Part Two

The home truth has been a long-time coming.

That doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

I tried to kill myself.

Literally held a gun to my head and pulled the trigger.

If I hadn’t been drunker than drunk, I would’ve been successful.

Rather than responding verbally, I give my mother what she wants. My compliance. I scoop the clothing from the floor, push back to my feet, and stomp into the bathroom. Discovering my dad hunched over the small sink, scrubbing Cherub’s blood from my cut, I’m hit by a flashback to her losing consciousness in the garden.

It was a car crash.

She was the one in trouble, yet my life flashed in front of my eyes. My half-arsed apology could’ve been the final thing I ever said to her. I have no idea why she was even outside—I only followed her because Nadia had made it clear throughout the day that Cherub was dealing with cramps and pain. Misery on her face, her delicate stride hitched and lopsided, I’d trailed her like the lovelorn loser Toker accused me of being.

Just in time to watch my world collapse in the wake of my half-arsed apology.

I caught my duchess before she hit the ground.

Carried her inside.

Blood dripping the entire way.

The rush to get Cherub to the hospital was chaotic.

Minutes of mayhem in the ED. The placental abruption diagnosis that required an emergency caesarean. I was lucky enough to attend the twins birth, although I was unable to see them before they were rushed to NICU. As the surgical team struggled to stop my wife haemorrhaging, I was evicted from the OR. Wearing bloodstained scrubs, a hat that looked like a flimsy shower cap, and covers over my boots, my final glimpse of Cherub was through the doors as they swung shut and blocked her from my view.

“Slash.” My father curls his fingers over my shoulders and lightly shakes me. “Your brothers’ have brought reinforcements. You needa get dressed and start organisin’ things.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that security is Toker’s responsibility.

I stop myself.

It’s time to stand up.

The myriad ways I’ve fucked up have piled too high to count. It’s time I stopped languishing in my guilt and failure, and started fixing things. Solutions were once my forte. I’m not sure when that changed.

If I’m honest, my world was rattled when Venom died.

Then, it was pitched on its head when he returned as Lazarus.

My rival for Cherub’s heart is gaining a reputation in the underworld. His moniker stalks me at every turn—highlighting my failings as we rush toward a showdown over Cherub’s heart. There’s been a clear path driven through the circle of soldiers surrounding the Maddison clan’s new boss, all the way to his now-deceased youngest son. You don’t need to be a math genius capable of calculating odds down to four decimal places in your head to know that the next target will be Hugh.

Lazarus has a list and he’s working through it...

In the middle of that, he found the time to save me from my demons and suggest we pull together. I want to meet him halfway. Put my wife’s happiness first. But I don’t know if I can.

Facing Cherub is impossible. My failings feel insurmountable. The things I’ve done to her are despicable. I’d kill anyone else for the same sins, yet my best friend thinks she’ll forgive me if I ask her.

Man up, admit my mistakes, make amends...

Life is only that easy when you walk through it with impunity like he does.

I’m not cut from the same cloth.

Lazarus died to save her.

I tried to kill myself to avoid loving her.

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