Page 97 of Fight for You

I shake my head, shoving my hands into my pockets. I'm not taking that ring or my patch back. They're hers, even if she doesn't want them anymore. Even if she doesn't want me anymore. I've taken enough from her. I won't take this too. And I won't make her beg me to leave. After everything, I owe her the chance to end this with whatever composure she's got left.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, choking on the words as I back toward the door, determined to give her what she's asked for and leave. "I'm so fucking sorry, January."

She stares at me, not speaking.

I step outside, every cell in my body screaming at me to march back in there and fight for her. But I can't, because then I have to tell her the whole truth, and she really will hate me.

And I can't live with that.

Somehow, I stumble away from her house. I don't go home, though. I just stagger down the street, and then I keep going. Day turns to night and then to day again. I keep moving until I'm lost. But I don't go home. I don't go anywhere.

I just wander around, completely fucking lost. Everything that matters is just fucking gone. January. Titan. Everything. And it's my fault. I destroy every fucking thing I touch.

Each breath I take burns like acid.

Her words lash at me like a whip across my back, driving me onward. The accusation and sorrow in her eyes taunt me until I'm practically running across the city, trying to outpace the memory of them.

Somewhere around day three, I finally manage to shove the brutal memories down into a little ball and think through the pain. I start focusing on what happens next. On where I go from here.

The answer leads me back toward home.

I stop at a corner store and pick up what I need before I bypass our block and keep walking.

When night falls, I creep in through Kaleo's window. His house is a wreck. He should be ashamed to be a grown-ass man living like a fucking pig. I kick my way through the mess of shit on his floor, turning his bedroom upside down in search of what I need. Everything in his closet and drawers ends up on the floor, along with the trash and dirty clothes. I finally find what I want hidden in a loose panel behind his dresser.

The gun is an unfamiliar weight in my gloved hands. It's loaded. I make sure there's one in the chamber, too. Once I'm sure I know how to handle the weapon, I shove a pile of clothes and food wrappers off a chair in the corner and sit down to wait.

I don't know how long I sit there, staring at nothing, but eventually Kaleo appears.

"Surprise, motherfucker," I growl, grabbing him around the throat and putting the gun to his head as soon as he steps into his bedroom.

His body goes limp as I press the muzzle of the gun to his temple. A pathetic whimper leaves his lips. I'm pretty sure he actually pisses himself. At least, I'm guessing that's what just dribbled onto my shoe, but I don't care enough to confirm that suspicion.

"Kincaid," he mewls like the little bitch he is. "I didn't know, man." It's the same shit he said the day Tony attacked January. Ignorance is always his excuse.

He won't be using it anymore.

I pull back the hammer on the gun, grunting when he cries out in fear. I don't feel satisfaction. I don't feel relief. I don't fucking feel anything. I haven't since January told me that she was done with me. Every person I ever cared about is gone, and the motherfucker in front of me is responsible for part of that, but I feel nothing.

It's almost a relief.

"I know who killed them!" he yelps.

I hesitate for a second.

"You let me live, I'll tell you," he says, tripping over the words in his haste to get them out. "I'll stay off your block. I'll leave you and January alone. Don't kill me, Kincaid. Please."

"Who?"

"Jace Adams, Sean Cortez, and Tully Adcock," he says. "They're Diablos."

"Where are they?"

He rattles off an address.

"You sure?"

"It's Adcock's house. They hang out there most nights."

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