Page 42 of Breaking Boston

"Work," Donovan blurts out without hesitating.

And then it dawns on me. "How do you know Remy again?" I ask, thinking back to our walk to the warehouse before I went to my parent's house.

"We used to work for him, Boston. We already told you that."

Shaking my head, I turn around and face the window, watching the pretty flakes fall from the sky. The snow still hasn't stopped.

"My parents are dead, and I tried to kill myself last night," I whisper, hearing the heartbreak in my voice.

"Oh, sweetie," Lux says, moving closer to try to hold me, but I push him away.

The loneliness and torment were too much for me to bear. I felt a mix of emotions overwhelming me—betrayal, confusion, and gratitude. The reality around me seemed to be shifting. I needed to make sense of everything that had happened. But one thing was clear; I needed to stay strong and find out the truth about who had taken my parents away from me.Or did I already know who it was?

I got up from the bed and rushed to get dressed, ignoring their heated stares. I could feel the sickness invading my body, but I tried to ignore it, for now, anyway.

"Where are you going?" Donovan's jaw drops in shock.

"To the warehouse! Remy told me-"

"Who the fuck cares what he told you? You don't belong there," Lux sneers, anger radiating off of him.

"I don't belong here either," I whispered with my head down.

I try to walk past them, but my wrist is snatched, and I'm yanked backward, pinned to the wall beside the bed. Lux's nose is pressing against mine, and his hand finds its place around my throat.

"Stop fucking running away from everything. You shouldn't be alone right now."

"I won't be alone. Let me go, Lux," I warn, feeling more lost than I ever have. "I know you're keeping things from me, and I promise you, I'm going to figure it the fuck out," I snap, shoving my palms against his chest to get him off of me.

He and Donovan gave me a look—one I couldn't make sense of—but nothing was changing my mind. I was on a mission for revenge, and I wasn't going to stop until I got it.

I bolted out of their apartment, luckily without them chasing me. As much as I loved and needed them, I also knew that I needed my space. I needed to think, and that's exactly what I did as I walked in the heavily falling snow.

I made a pit-stop at a Dunkin Donuts on the way to the warehouse; I couldn't take another step without getting high. I knew deep down that I had to get clean to get my mind right, especially if I wanted to have any chance of getting the answers I was so desperate for. But I couldn't do it right now. I had to get high to feel better. Mixing a shot in the bathroom, I wasted no time in finding a vein in my neck, watching the magic potion disappear into my vein as I pushed the plunger. Instantly I felt better. I felt like myself again. The guilt would come later, though, but I'd have another shot to do that would push the guilt off for as long as I wanted it to.

All I had to do was keep getting high.

Walking into the warehouse, I kept my head down as I went straight to my room. Opening the door, I took a step back, trying to get my heart under control. Remy was sitting there on my bed, his pistol in his lap. He was fucking pissed.

"Where the fuck have you been?" His eyes found mine and I could see that I was in trouble, but I didn't care.

"I told you, I had to go find my parents," I told him calmly, walking further into my room.

"You don't disobey a fucking order, Boston. I thought you knew that."

"My bad, Remy. It doesn't even matter, they're fucking dead!" I yell, his face forming into a look of shock and confusion.

"Bost-"

"Save it. I'm getting my things and I'm leaving. I don't need a place to stay anymore." I begin throwing what little things I do have into my duffel bag, ignoring his eyes burning a hole into my back.

"It doesn't work that way. You came to me for help and I helped you."

"And I also repaid you. I'm done here, Remy." I stand in front of him as he blocks my way to the door, trying to remain calm, even though I'm freaking out on the inside.

He gets up and shoves me against the door, pushing the muzzle of his gun into my left temple.

"You're done when I say you're done. And you're not fucking done." He grins as if he's won, and he might have for now. Gliding the gun down the front of my body, he runs it back up and pushes the muzzle against my lips, forcing the barrel into my mouth.

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