Page 6 of Ashes

“He won’t leave her side. He held her. I watched him beg her to come back to him. He fucking cried.” I turned to Sin finally. “Church never begs or cries. If she doesn’t come back, we’re going to lose him and Stitches.”

Sin’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. She’s Seth’s problem now.”

I scowled at him. “You’re a real prick.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“You know what. We needed you last night. I don’t know why you ran off or what the fuck you were really doing, but fuck you, Sinclair. You know what she means to us—”

“And I fucking told you assholes not to get attached!” he bellowed, getting up. “I fucking told you.No one wanted to listen! Now look! I said it was dangerous getting close to her. I said she’d fucking break us, and I was right! Seth won. Let. It. Fucking.Go, Asher. Please. Let her go.”

“She’d breakyou.” I snarled, rising and facing him down, pissed off he refused to feel anything. “You’re so fucking scared of getting hurt that you’re hurting your own damn feelings. If anyone is going to break us apart, it’s you!”

He glared at me, a muscle popping along his jaw.

“What the hell is going on?” Stitches demanded, staggering into the room, his shirt off and his sweatpants hanging low.

The long scar along his torso seemed more prominent today. Redder. Angrier.

“This prick came home,” I snapped.

“Where were you?” Stitches demanded, shoving him.

Sin staggered back and caught himself on the edge of the couch.

“I said, where the fuck were you, Sinclair?” Stitches pushed him in the chest again.

Sin shoved back, fury on his face. “I was fucking out. Past that, it’s none of your goddamn business, Malachi.”

“We needed you.Angelneeded you. You fucking bailed on us.”

“I’m not doing this. I already told Ashes you guys were looking for trouble with her. This is what I was talking about. Walk the fuck away from her. It’s over. Ashes said she screamed for Seth. She’s his. Not yours. Not Ashes’s. Not fucking Church’s. We aren’t good for her. She’s not good for us. Game over.” He smacked Stitches in the chest, sending him backward before he bulldozed past us and stormed to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

“Piece of shit.” Stitches growled, glaring at Sin’s door.

“He’s hurting too,” I murmured. “You know he is.”

“Fuck him.” Stitches pulled his phone from his pocket and hit send on a number. A moment later, he spoke, “Sin’s home… He’s a prick… Yeah. He’s been drinking. I could smell it on him like cheap perfume… Yeah. He’s in his bedroom.” He nodded as he listened to what had to be Church. “I-is she awake? Is sh-she OK?”

I watched, my breath held, as Stitches closed his eyes, his body trembling.

Fuck.

“OK. Yeah. Bye.” He hung up. A moment later, he heaved his phone across the room. It slammed against the fireplace and bounced to the hardwood floor.

“She’s not OK,” I whispered, more as a statement than as a question.

“She’s not,” he choked out. “But I want fucking answers. I won’t stop until I know what went down. And then, someone is going to pay.”

He went back to his room, leaving me alone in the living room, standing there feeling lost.

But he was onto something. I wouldn’t stop either. I wanted answers too. I’d do whatever I had to just to get them.

No one fucked with my heaven and got away with it.

No one.

CHURCH

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