Page 18 of Fire Bound

“Are you going to tell me what happened a year ago that first made her mad at you?” she counters quickly, not skipping a beat.

What happened a year ago…

No, I’m not going to tell Isabeau what happened a year ago. Even though I know out of everyone, she’s the one who would understand what I did the best, I can’t tell her. Beau would probably support my choice and reasoning, but I’m not going to share it with her out of respect for Remington. Remi has gone to great extremes to keep it a secret and I’ll do the same.

“I did what I had to do,” is all I offer with an apathetic shrug, playing it off as if it’s nothing important. I toss the knife back into the penholder and stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “I didn’t want to see her hurt and nothing has changed.”

“But sheishurt, Jax.”

Does she not think I know that? Remi’s been slowly self-destructing for months. It’s like watching a falling star speeding toward the earth. She’s eventually going to crash and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I’m the one who pushed her after all.

“But she’s not dead!” I shout, throwing my hands up in the air in defeat. “Yeah, she’s hurting and acting out right now, butshe’s alive. And sometimes that’s all we can ask for.”

“What are you talking about?” She frowns. “Who was going to kill her?”

I was.

My lips part like I want to say my admission aloud, but the words never come. Snapping my teeth together, I grind them painfully as I meet Isabeau’s stare with my own unyielding look.

“Jax,” she presses me to continue, a tinge of urgency in her voice.

Shaking my head, I shove my fingers through my hair in frustration. “I have to get out of here,” I announce. “I can’t talk to you about this anymore.” I leave before she can ask any more questions.

Two hours.

That’s how long I pace the length of my scantily decorated, dark loft while trying to stop myself from doing something stupid. I thought after leaving Isabeau’s I’d calmed down enough, but the silence of my temporary home made Remington’s words scream in my head at a volume I could no longer ignore.

Iwant him to fuck me against a wall until I can’t remember your name.

I now sit, watching the red numbers on my alarm clock tick by. Each minute that passes is time she has to follow through with it.

Those words—that threat—made my blood boil with uncontrollable jealousy as she said them, but now that there’s a possibility that as we speak, she’s truly letting a stranger inside her body, has my blood raging through my veins like lava.

She’s willingly letting some random douchebag take advantage of her. That’s how far she’s fallen. That’s how twisted her moral compass has become. And it’s partially my fault.

No longer able to stand it, I stand from the mattress and hastily pull on the leather jacket I’d left on the rickety wooden chair in the corner. It’s the only piece of real furniture in the entire loft besides my bed.

I’m not in Montana to build a home, this is all temporary until we take care of Sterling. If I somehow manage to make it out of that alive, I’ll move on someplace else, but I don’t allow myself to think much about where that could be. It’d be a mistake to set my heart on a future I can’t have.

I leave the loft in a cloud of smoke and head to the place I know I shouldn’t.

Appearing in a dark hallway near the emergency exit, I’m assaulted by the familiar smell of the club. It reeks of spilled liquor, cheap perfume, and sex. The music is deafening, the bass bounces in the walls and in my bones. I can understand how a place like this would be ideal for someone who’s trying to not think. The music drowns out any thought you may have.

Even now, as I stalk through the dark hallway into the main part of the club, the voice of reason that should be screaming at me to leave is silenced by the loud music. It’s for the best as I have no intentions of leaving until I get a visual on Remington. I need to know what she’s doing.Whoshe may be doing.

I already killed one person tonight, I’m not against killing another if I find someone touching her.

After weeks of watching over her at this club, I know the building like the back of my hand. Climbing a set of stairs that lead to the upper level, I slip into one of the vacant VIP rooms that look over the dance floor and bar. Standing in the shadows, I sweep my eyes over the space. Remington usually enjoys sitting at the bar talking to the female bartender, but tonight her usual seat is taken by a blonde with a bad spray tan.

My wolf grows impatient as I search the crowd of dancers. For a weekday, this place is crowded, but it rarely isn’t. It’s the only source of entertainment for the college students nearby.

In the horde of people, I try to find her shoulder-length chocolate-colored hair, but once again, I find myself disappointed. I know she’s in the building, my wolf can sense as much, but where continues to be a mystery.

With one last fleeting look at the crowd, I leave the room, tugging the velvet curtain closed behind me so hard, the rod is yanked from the drywall and hangs crookedly from the ceiling.

Prowling down the poorly lit hallway lined with the other VIP rooms, I head for the staircase on the other end. I pass one of the few rooms with a drawn curtain and freeze when a familiar scent assaults me. It’s mixed with tequila and something sweet and fruity, but I’d still recognize it anywhere.

Grinning to myself, I back up with slow measured steps. Pausing by the curtain, I listen to what’s coming from the other side. Two heartbeats, one beats more erratically than the other. Something clangs against the glass table before he speaks.

---