Page 91 of Seizing Control: Part Two

“Are you listenin’, motherfucker?” Toker sounds likes he’s on the verge of shooting me. He kicks me under the table. The impact of his booted foot with my shin should hurt, but I’m numb emotionally and physically, so I barely register it. “Lockdown is cemented for the week. I’ve got a rotation organised. Prospects on the gates. Got the security firm on the key entrances into the suburb.”

I nod. “Sounds good.”

He rolls his eyes, then follows my attention when my gaze strays toward the doorway my wife just exited through. “You said hello yet?”

“Nope.”

“Kinda rude, dontcha think?”

The only interaction I’ve had with Cherub resulted in a coffee cup being smashed against the wall above her head, so I stay quiet. I’m not sure why Nadia and my duchess didn’t tell anyone what I did, but it’s obvious that they haven’t because my head is still attached to my shoulders, and my club brothers continue to treat me like their president.

“She’s about to pop,” Toker comments. As my wife walks into the kitchen, I shake my head to clear my vision. She’s holding my son on her hip, cooing to him. In front of the sink, she starts making a bottle, bouncing the fussy boy with expert movements. “Taken to motherhood like a duck to water.”

The truth in his statement is brutal.

Cherub is a natural mother.

I’m a useless father.

As reality penetrates my numbness, I blink.

Push away from the dining table.

Slip outside onto the back patio.

The sun is too bright. An assault on my eyes. Water running invades my ears. It gets on my last nerve. I track the sound to the new water feature at the head of the pool. While I’ve been gone, during my trek along the east coast of Australia, the weeks spent hiding out at the compound as I ducked Lazarus and his very valid quest for vengeance on behalf of my wife, the backyard has been turned into a garden paradise. Cherub has been putting her stamp on our home, from the toys scattered through the living room to the new plants lining the garden paths.

My decision to give her the house and full custody in our divorce was the right one.

Not that she’s signed the papers yet.

Strolling through the yard, I take in the changes she’s made.

I thought moving her in after Venom left her made the house a home.

Turns out I was clueless.

It’s a home now.

With my son, and the baby on the way. My wife. Her brothers. Nadia. My parents are moving out of my childhood home today once they’ve picked up the keys to the new house they’ve purchased two a street over from mine. The club brothers spend more time at this residence than they do the compound. My pool has become the main place for the families to hang out since Venom died and Brutus was outed as a double-crossing devil.

The only fixture missing is Lazarus.

He continues to slink around in the dark, but not for long.

My deal with Gabriel will expire eventually and he’ll reveal himself.

I can’t put this genie back in the bottle.

As my conscience tries to make itself known, I react on instinct. My fingers make contact with my bandage, my psyche not yet grasping that my manbun is long gone. I hiss as the wound along my scalp flares. Dropping onto the closest sunlounge, I softly pat my head to make sure I haven’t made myself bleed.

When I check my fingertips, they are clean.

I’m not sure if I’m happy or sad about that fact.

My suicide attempt doesn’t feel real yet. The despair that drove me to take that kind of action feels phantastic. I’ve battled those kinds of thoughts for years—since I strangled Jenna. A fatalistic streak. The need to punish myself. I have lived for more than a decade with one solitary light at the end of the tunnel.

Cherub’s love.

---