Page 75 of Pulse

Christ, why had she done this?

He’d had this feeling once before—an out-of-control sick feeling that everything was crumbling around him. This guilt ate away at his flesh until nothing remained but a husk. It was the day Camila died. That had been his fault the same way this was. Talia could be hurt, and there wouldn’t be anyone to blame but himself. If he’d thought Camila’s death had destroyed him, he’d been dead wrong. If something happened to Talia, no part of him would be left to recover. What he’d felt for Camila paled in comparison to what he felt for Talia. Though he’d spent years with the cartel princess, he’d never experienced genuine romantic feelings for her. He craved Talia like a drug.

He floored the gas pedal and sped out of his neighborhood with his tires screaming against the pavement the way his brain screamed inside his skull. The fact that he didn’t encounter any cops along the way was a miracle with how he weaved in and out of traffic at a dangerous rate of speed. Not that he’d have stopped for anything, but a high-speed police chase would have complicated the situation.

He reached the clubhouse in record time, screeching to a stop in front of the porch. He left the engine running and the door open as he charged toward the clubhouse and pounded up the three steps. With the roar of blood rushing in his ears, he threw the door open and came to a dead stop.

Talia, Curly, and Spec sat at a small round table. She had her back to him while his brothers sat opposite her, facing the entrance. All three froze at his arrival.

Too bad they didn’t remain stunned for long.

“Pulse…” Talia stood and turned to face him with sorrow written all over her face.

On the other hand, Spec wore a murderous scowl, while Pulse couldn’t decipher Curly’s expression.

He focused all his attention on the woman who had him tied up in knots. “Why?” he croaked. His throat felt as dry as the Sahara.

She gifted him a sad smile. “I had to try.”

Damn her.

The telltale click of a round being chambered had Talia stiffening. Pulse whipped his gaze to Spec to find his brother rounding the table with his gun leveled at Talia’s head. His heart came to a standstill in his chest, which made no sense as his blood roared in his ears.

No, no, no.

This was why she was supposed to stay back. It was his worst nightmare come true.

“W-what the fuck are you doing?” Pulse shouted. He lurched a step forward, but Spec’s voice had him freezing like a movie character immobilized in time.

“Don’t fucking move!” his enforcer screamed. “You know I’m not fucking around.”

“Don’t do this.” Now Pulse’s heart hammered against his ribs so hard it fucking hurt. He could barely take a breath. “Why?” he whispered.

“I made her a promise,” Spec said, jerking the gun to indicate Talia. His eyes were wild with the same murderous ferocity he’d used to protect the club so many times. To see that hatred turned on himself was devastating. “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you for your fucking betrayal. But I didn’t make any promises about her safety, and I figure this might be the best way to punish you for your lies.” He stared Pulse right in the eye and grinned in the cold, lethal manner he reserved for their enemies.

That’s what he now considered Pulse.

“Spec, drop the fucking gun,” Curly said, calm and rational as he could be. “This isn’t the way we do things.”

Talia stood steady, but the fear in her eyes broke Pulse’s heart.

“Keep looking at me, Talia,” he said, his throat thick. “I can’t believe you did this, you stubborn, strong, wonderful, stupid woman.”

He got a wobbly grin in reply. “I’ve never been any good at doing what I’m told.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that.”

“Spec, you do not want to do this.” Curly inched a few steps closer to Spec. He kept his arms spread wide and unthreatening.

“I think I do, Prez. You’ve been fucking betrayed before. How are you not grabbing your gun?”

The longer Curly could keep Spec talking, the better their chances of escaping this without a bullet hole in Talia.

Spec was right. It’d be the best punishment imaginable. If he killed Talia, Pulse would never recover. He’d spend his life steeped in grief and guilt so powerful they’d destroy him from the inside out day by day until nothing remained but a living, breathing corpse.

“Because I know the world isn’t black and white, brother,” Curly said. “Our lives are all lived in shades of gray. Nothing is simple.”

“Bullshit. There are lies, then there’s the truth.”

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