Page 134 of Nemesis

I didn’t have to sit with her and watch her die.

Instead, I witnessed the aftermath. Laid her out on a table in my club, sheltered my brother and his friends from their enemies. Kept her safe while we figured out a proper funeral for her and dealt with the danger.

Saint and Nyx made themselves part of that fight.

“You can go,” I say suddenly, turning my cheek to stare sideways at him.

I didn’t expect him to lower himself down to the sand beside me, but he did. I pictured him scowling and pacing by the door until Kade arrived, not… commiserating.

He blinks at me. “Why would I go?”

I sigh.

He reaches out and touches my shoulder. He prods at the skin until my brows lower.

“You never mentioned the tattoo,” he says.

I scoff. “And give you the satisfaction? No, thanks.”

But I do pull my arm out of Kade’s sweatshirt and lift the fabric until we can both examine my bare shoulder in the moonlight. There’s no trace of a tattoo. The scratches that were left by the machine have long since healed, the marker washed away.

“What was it?” I ask now.

“Just a flower. Nothing special.”

Nothing special. Not like what he would put on Nyx. She didn’t have any tattoos when I first met her, but five years later she was covered. I imagine every tattoo he gave her was special.

This wasn’t a tattoo.

It was a prank.

Or punishment—whatever he wants to call it.

I push my arm back into the sweatshirt and resume my earlier position. The whitecaps of the waves catch the moonlight. Watching them is soothing, although nothing can truly calm the riot in my chest.

My eyes burn, and before I can stop it, a tear slides down my cheek.

“Why do you have to be such a dick?”

I’m honestly upset about this? I wipe at it and stand, leaving Saint to sit in the sand and contemplate my abrupt question. Thesound of a car in the driveway forces me to move faster, and I collect my boots and meet Kade in the driveway.

He tosses me the keys and carries Reese out of the back. I scramble to unlock the door, then step out of his way. Reese’s head lolls, his eyes shut. He should look peaceful, shouldn’t he? But he just seems to be in pain. Sweat dots his brow.

“What’s wrong with him?” I demand, following Kade into the kitchen. He sets Reese on the island—literally, he needs to get more furniture in here—and steps back.

Saint taps on the sliding glass door.

I yank it open, then return to the island. I touch the back of my hand to Reese’s forehead and wince. “He’s burning up.”

“I don’t know,” Kade says. “I found him strung up in a lower room and got him out of there. He hasn’t woken up since.”

“Strip him,” Saint orders. He comes up close behind me. “He could have an injury we can’t see.”

Kade and Saint make quick work of stripping him down to his boxers. His torso is a mottled patchwork of bruises, some much darker and fresher than the rest. Kade probes at his rib cage.

If it hurt, Reese would react, right?

Kade grabs his phone from his pocket and tosses it to me. “It keeps buzzing.”

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