Page 77 of Overcast

“You can’t stop this,” I recite. You can’t change me. “Mama is gone. She knew who I was before I came to live with you and became—”

“It doesn’t mean you have to keep doing what you do." She glares at me. "You should've asked me more questions about my attacker. You assumed, and I would've told you instead of you...doing this.” She waves a hand in the air to fill in her blanks.

And this is why I don’t enlighten my sister on my job.

She can’t handle this.

I won’t be able to justify my actions to her because she’ll never understand.

What I do is classified because it’s not considered humane. It’s barbaric and repugnant, no one would sign a petition for men or women who inevitably committed crimes against the integrity of our country to be mutilated and tortured.

"Calm down, Sox," Wade transmits, using the nickname he always does to calm her down. He reaches for Reagan's hand, but my darling sister, she's having none of it.

Oh no, she’ll rip me a new asshole right here at the dining table and not give two shits about it.

"You wanna talk about it?" I ask her before jerking my head. "Then, we'll discuss this outside, and you can really tell me how you feel."

She promptly drives her chair back—huge surprise—and gestures for me. “Lead the way, Emric.”

I press my lips together and rise, glancing back at Stormi, who hasn't sat the fuck back down yet.

“If she leaves this house, Wade...I’m going to fuck you up.” Pivoting, I leave the dining room attached to the kitchen and outside where our voices won’t carry over. Where I can take my first deep intake of air since sitting down in that room.

I need Reagan to understand, just this once, that I have to do this.

That when I start a mission, it'll drive me insane until it's finished. Once the hunt starts and the adrenaline has formed like a high, I'm addicted. I don't crash until I'm at ease, and danger is at rest.

It never ends until the person on the other end is dead.

Once the front door closes behind us, I round on Reagan before her aggravation starts in.“I don’t expect you to understand any of this shit. But I do expect you to trust me.”

Her eyes flick to my shoulder still stained from the laceration Stormi took the liberties and balls to inflict on me. Never did get to thank her for that. I was too busy studying and lusting over her body in the moonlight like a fucking idiot.

"I can't support this," Reagan replies, crossing her arms over her chest. "This isn't right, and you need to go to the hospital."

I lift my good shoulder, ignoring the last part. I have someone I can call. “What happened to you wasn’t right.”

“That girl in there—” She points towards the house. “—is beyond terrified of you.”

I tug on my white tee. "Don't worry, she got me back." "She shouldn't have had to." Reagan's face pinkens and, holy shit, she's pregnant, and I'm riling up her blood pressure.

“Calm down, Tsarina. I don’t want you to—”

"And why does she keep calling you Emric?!" I make the mistake of rolling my eyes, and she slams a fist into my—thankfully—non-injured side.

“Because no one calls me Marty but you and Mama, plain and fucking simple.”

"So, you have an agent name or some shit?"

“I guess. Everyone knows me as Emric. Marty is home, in a peaceful setting and doesn’t have to think of what I have to do.”

“This is all too much,” she declares, as she begins to pace the porch. “You doing this to people and for—”

“Don’t ask me for what, because what would you do if someone did this to me? What plan of action would you take if someone tried to murder me? I know you wouldn’t be hanging out watching Netflix.”

She scoffs. “You don’t know that.”

I step in front of her, placing my palms on her forearms to get her to stop, chill, and listen. "The girl is coming with me." She begins to open her mouth before I quickly blunder out, "And you have to leave."

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