Page 32 of His Enforcer

Yeah, he’s got it now. It’s best not to care about anyone because when you do, you lose them. In the most horrible way.

The next morning, while Viktor is still asleep, I sit in the bathroom with the water running to drown out any noise as I call my aunt. She messaged me last night, almost as if she could feel the nightmare I had.

After the fire, my aunt and uncle took me in, and she would let me crawl into bed with her on the nights I’d wake up from thosedreams. It was the only safety I ever felt after watching my family die.

I think of Viktor sprawled out on the bed in the other room, the steady thrum of his heart, the way his limbs go akimbo over the entire bed, the way he takes up so much space.

Fuck. Him.

“How are you?” my aunt says over the phone. “Is that running water? What happened?”

“Nothing, just got your message,” I lie, even though I know she can tell. She always knew when I was afraid. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, love. Just got a sense last night and you know your uncle. He insisted I message to check in. It’s been a while.”

“It has.”

“So, tell me how you’re really doing. You have that sound about you.”

I sigh and rub a hand across my face. “Had the dream again. It hasn’t happened in a while.”

She’s silent for a moment. “Do you have someone to take care of you when you wake?”

I don’t want to admit it, but I can’t lie to her. “Kind of.”

“Is that who you’re hiding from in the bathroom?” I don’t say anything, and she laughs softly. “You stubborn boy. Go back out there and let her comfort you.”

I don’t correct her immediately. She has no reason to think this person is a man. I’ve never given any indication it was a possibility. Until him.

Until three years ago.

My mind pictures the black rose, a representation of so many things.

I squash it and focus back on my aunt.

“It’s not a woman,” I murmur.

My aunt is silent, and then utters, “Oh. Doesn’t matter, love. Just let yourself be taken care of. You deserve it after everything you went through.”

I don’t tell her it’s not his job, nor is it consistent with who I am. I’m no longer that scared little boy. She doesn’t need to see the real me. No one sees that. Not even him. I won’t let him. But I let her believe what she wants to. Instead, I change the subject, making promises to see her and my uncle soon. I hang up, turn off the water, and move into the main room. I brew myself a cup of coffee as Viktor wakes up, and then I offer him one as well.

He takes it begrudgingly.

“Who were you talking to in the bathroom?” he asks, almost sounding jealous.

I don’t answer, just drink my coffee and let him stew on it. It sours his mood completely.

Good. Let him feel a fraction of what he does to me.

When the coffee has been depleted, we dress in our laundered clothes and grab a quick breakfast from the downstairs café before heading out to two other motorcycle clubs. One is on the outskirts of the city and the other is in the high desert. Both are dead ends. No one knows anything, and if they do, they lie to our faces.

“I’m telling you, the Sirens know something more than they’re saying.” This is the third time Viktor has said this to me today, but I’m grumpy and tired. The lack of sleep and the copious amounts of caffeine I’ve consumed are making me cranky. I can feel my eyeballs with each blink and my heart is beating erratically inside my chest.

I hate those nightmares. They come and go, making appearances when I least expect them. I should have known one would show up when I was with Viktor.

“Yeah, you fucking said,” I murmur as I place a cigarette between my lips and wait for him to light it. He does it with deft precision, and I take that first drag of nicotine into my lungs. Fuck, that’s nice.

It’s a bad vice, but I won’t quit. No matter how much the smoke reminds me of that torturous night. Maybe that’s why I like it, why I continue to smoke.

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