Page 52 of Cold Foot Komodo

“Probably. I love it for other people. I dream of it for myself someday. I don’t get jealous when I see people enjoying each other like that.” She took a sip of her drink. “There should be love like that in the world.”

He liked that. Reed studied her face, and she had no negativity in her gaze. He could feel her good intentions. “Why did you come here tonight?”

“Just in case you need a friend.”

God, this woman was something else.

“I was a little bummed today,” she admitted, “but I had dinner with a nice lady who just listened, and then I felt a hundred pounds lighter.”

He knew what she was saying. She wanted him to talk to her about what was happening.

“If I tell you a story as a friend, can you go easy on me?”

“Absolutely. I have no eggs in this basket. You can tell me anything. One, two, three, go.”

He draped his arm over the back of the chair next to him again, and considered it. Maybe it would feel good to get it off his chest. It wasn’t his way—he’d never done that before. He’d always handled everything alone, but maybe if he told her what was happening, she wouldn’t hate him in the quiet moments when she remembered his rejection.

He cleared his throat. “I was in a relationship for a long time, but it was on-and-off. It revolved around a power struggle. Not for me, but for her. She was my Alpha. I was her Second.”

Sasha’s eyes went wide, and she took another sip of her drink. “Interesting dynamic.”

“It was good at first, but that part was short-lived. It was bad for much longer. I kept trying to leave, and move on, but she had her claws in deep, and she had a bond with the entire Bank, me included. Banks are what all-Komodo Crews are called. Alphas can make their people do what they want with an order. She abused that power more and more over time until I was just…stuck. She would have moments of clarity that she was on the wrong path, but the clarity wouldn’t hit her until after we’d been to war with other Banks, or had lost members due to hernegligence. She got it in her head that having kids would make her a better leader, or maybe make her softer, I don’t know. She wanted to start trying, but I didn’t want that with her. Not by that time. There was a lot of pressure and eventually I gave in, but we weren’t at a good place with us. It wasn’t happening for her, and she wanted someone to blame, and so she got really vocal that it was me. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t man enough. I was the problem. It was my fault she wasn’t getting pregnant. Every time we were with anyone in our Bank, it was brought up and thrown in my face, and I know this is bad, but I was secretly happy it wasn’t happening. I wanted to be a dad someday, but not like that. Not with her.” He inhaled deeply and tossed back the remainder of his whiskey, then turned and gestured to the bartender for one more. “I was getting too used to the shame, and I couldn’t keep living like that, so I started planning a way out. I was going to leave. Just abandon the Bank, abandon my role as Second, and go do anything else with my life. And then she ended up pregnant. That’s what she said. So I stayed and I tried, but a few weeks later, she said she lost it, and I was gutted. But then she got drunk one night at a Bank party and told everyone it was my friend’s baby. I just…found out in front of everyone. There was a huge fight, and the Bank was at war with each other, and then came the shaming that I couldn’t get the job done again, and I felt betrayed by everyone because it came out that everyone knew she was trying with other males, except for me. I was the only one who didn’t know. The Second. Everyone was keeping secrets and covering for her. It fucked with my animal so bad, I didn’t have much control. The next round of trying, she was open that she would be trying with multiple people. I was fucking done. I felt stuck, and grossed out, and cheated, and used, and like I couldn’t do anything right but fighting, and that’s what I did. That’s what I was good at. Farrah wanted a new Second, and there was a plan to overthrow me. Noone could take me one-on-one, so she orchestrated the lower-ranking males to strip my rank as a group. They were supposed to kill me.”

“Oh my gosh,” she whispered in a horrified tone.

He shrugged. “The fight happened. I was hurt, but not dead. I had taken some of the Bank down with pretty severe injuries, and one of them died, and then a few days later the police showed up at my doorstep to arrest me for murder. That’s what the humans call it, but to my people, it was defending rank. I went through the trial and it dragged on because I was defending myself, but I did end up getting six years.”

“Was Farrah the one who called the cops on you?”

“I’m guessing. I never really found out. None of them explained. I went to Cold Foot and got stuck in the system, and didn’t hear shit about fuck from any of them until yesterday.”

Her cheeks were turning red, and she stirred her drink. “Who called you?”

“Farrah. She said I can’t escape her, because we have a kid together. A son.”

Sasha dragged a long, ragged breath in, and got up in a rush. “I need to use the restroom. I’m sorry. I’m coming right back, I just…need a minute.”

And he understood. Fuck, he hated this. They’d been cut off before they’d even stood a chance, and it wasn’t fair. This was too much too early.

He waited a couple of minutes, but he couldn’t physically stay way over here, so far away from her, so he stood and made his way to the bathroom hallway. It was the sound of crying that had him pushing off the wall and opening the bathroom door. “Sasha?” he asked softly.

She was leaned against the counter, head hung low. He could see a tear fall in the mirror’s reflection. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry? None of this is your fault.” She turned around, and the look on her face tugged at his heart. “The walls are really close.”

“Do you want to go outside?”

She nodded. “Just for a minute. I need some fresh air.”

“Come on,” he murmured, offering his hand.

She slipped her palm against his, and he led her to the back door with the glowing exit sign over it. He pushed open the door and led her down the back stairs, then released her and backed off a couple feet.

Sasha sat almost immediately on a curb by the bar and wrapped her arms around herself. Crap. She was probably freezing, and Reed had left his jacket inside. “Do you want my shirt?”

“Oh, the one covering your gorilla bite-wounds that I’m assuming you got from spiraling?”

He pursed his lips. “Yes.”

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