Page 18 of Tainted Wings of Failure

A few minutes later, we’re in the bathtub together. The soothing warmth of the hot water eases the tension from my muscles, and the foam of the lavender bubble bath surrounding us adds to the relaxing atmosphere. Noah is sitting behind me, with his head tilted back, resting on the soft cushion of the big tub. I sit between his spread legs, leaning against his broad chest as I sip the mixture of water and cranberry juice he made for me. One of his arms rests on the edge of the tub while the other is wrapped around me with his palm resting on my belly.

With the tip of my finger, I trace the rough edges of one of the many raised, long scars on his arm. There are so many all over his body. I counted them once and came up with twenty-nine cuts or stab wounds, eight bullet holes and one large burn scar on his chest. They are reminders of his past. Of the countless hits he has carried out over the course of nearly nineteen long years. I was foolish to think that I could compete with that side of him, let alone completely tame it, no matter how hard I might try.

I push myself off his chest, place my cup on the edge of the tub, get on my knees and turn around to face him, splashing water on the bathroom floor. He lifts his head off the cushion and looks at me through hazy green eyes, fighting sleep. "Hm?" he hums.

"You can go," I say, and his eyebrows shoot up in confusion, forming deep lines on his forehead. "You will go, no matter what, we can fight and make it so much worse, or I will give you this opportunity. I fell in love with a killer. It was fucking naive of me to think I could change you so easily."

"Dove…"

"I love you for who you are. This is a part of you and if you need this, I can’t stop you."

A small smile plays on his lips. "Thank you," he says, pushing himself forward, his hands coming to rest on my thighs.

"Don't." I sigh and scoot closer, draping my legs over his thighs and wrap my arms around his shoulders.

"I promise you, this is the last. A clean cut. One that I have completely decided for myself."

I close my eyes and lean my forehead against his. "How long will you be gone?"

"A week at most, no more than that."

"Okay," I say quietly, suppressing the raging mixture of sadness and frustration simmering inside me. "Promise me that you will come home as soon as possible."

"The moment the body drops dead to the ground, I'm back in my car heading home."

Chapter 9

Noah

The hinges creak as the heavy front door of my old house falls shut behind me. I take a deep breath, the cool late autumn air filling my lungs, the warmth of the setting sun tickling my face. Turning back, I look at the house—its dull brick facade, the windows dark and empty like soulless eyes staring back at me. I should have sold it the moment Evelyn and I moved away. The thought crosses my mind for what feels like the hundredth time since I got here three days ago.

Every time we come back to the city, we stay at Evelyn’s old apartment. It's more convenient, closer to her friends and their usual hangout spots. Yet I still can't part with this old house and the memories it holds within its walls. I thought about keeping it for us, a place to stay during our regular trips to New York City, but that plan never materialized. Maybe it's about time to move on, to let it go for good.

The sound of a car's blaring horn startles me and drags me out of my thoughts. I whip around, turning my attention to the driveway, where I'm greeted by the familiar sight of Kyle getting out of our rental car. I take the two steps down and walk toward him, looking him up and down as he walks around the car.

"I never thought I'd see you actually wear a suit one day." I snatch the keys from his hand and walk around the car to the driver's side.

"First and last time. How do you wear those tight pants all day? They're fucking uncomfortable," he complains as he pulls open the passenger door.

"Mine are not too tight. Simple as that." Once in the driver's seat, I push the start button and maneuver the car out of the driveway before stepping on the gas, keeping my eyes on the road.

"Jeans are much more comfortable and also more durable."

He is right about the durability part. In hand-to-hand combat, jeans are better. The chances of scarring your legs in a fall are slim. But I disagree on the comfort part; I don't like the rigid fabric against my skin. It feels rough, unyielding, and every time they shift, it's like sandpaper scraping against my skin. It's not just uncomfortable, it's irritating.

"Well, let's hope we don't have to fight anyone tonight. I wouldn't want your pretty knees to get scratched." I flash him a shit-eating grin.

"Fuck you.” Kyle snorts and hits my shoulder.

The drive doesn't take too long and half an hour later I pull into the underground parking lot of the venue and park in the back of the dimly lit concrete halls. We still have some time before our contact arrives to take us to the event and introduce us to the inner circle. I unbuckle my seat belt and sink back into the leather, pulling my phone from the inner pocket of my suit jacket. With a tap on the screen, it flickers to life and shows a bunch of missed messages from Evelyn. Our chat pops up and shows all her messages as soon as I unlock it. She has a habit of not writing everything in one text, but breaking up whatever she has to say into multiple small texts. Most people find this irritating, I find it endearing.

Dove: Good Morning

Dove: Today is the day!

Dove: I miss you

Dove: Good luck and take care

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