Page 111 of Choices

His eyes seem to morph from serene to crazed, his pupils expanding like spilled ink, engulfing the color. There’s no doubt he’s a vicious force. I can almost feel his muscles ripple with anger as he lingers on the wall, glaring at the blank silhouette like an ominous beast, threatening, promising—a hunter with his target in sight.

“But we work outside of the law, and we’re so close,” he muses, almost to himself.

“So, the guy on the table?”

“Is how we’re going to catch this fucker.” Monster grins over at me, and I notice the missing tooth he used to have has been replaced with a new one. His smile is half hidden by the overgrown mass of hair on his face, but it reaches his eyes, and for the first time ever, I pay attention to how handsome he is. Imperfect in the rough-edged way I like. His flawed skin is littered with scars but none distract or blemish his best feature: those oval eyes. They’re an array of color, like a forest floor in autumn, coated with thick, dark lashes. His brown hair brushes the tops of his broad shoulders. There’s the tiniest of bends in his otherwise well-placed nose. He’s tall and commands any space he’s in. You can tell just by being in his presence there’s darkness in him. It’s compelling in a villainous allure type of way. He’s a bloodthirsty, raw, alpha male.Just like Cutter.

Cutter.

My insides twist. My heart weeps. All I seem to do with him is love and lose him over and over. It hurts too much.

“Are you going to tell Callan, Kit?” Rogue pins her gaze to mine. The weight of it crushes down on my chest.

“What he doesn’t know can’t make him an annoying, overbearing asshole, right?” I jerk a shoulder and blow out a heavy breath.

Compressing her lips to stifle a laugh, she nods. “Exactly.”

“What’s the plan?”

“What do you mean?” Rogue asks, furrowing her brow.

“I mean, how do you plan to catch him? What are you going to do with Trevor?”

“This is heavy stuff, Kitty. Are you sure you want details?” Monster’s hoarse baritone vibrates up my spine and settles in my chest like a stone.

They’re doing something incredible. Dangerous, yes, but all the lives they could save by taking out this evil, it’s hero-type shit. “I want more than details. I want to help,” I declare.

“We can use help.” Monster nods to Rogue, who breathes out through her nose and smiles.

“Let’s get this son of a bitch.”

Adrenaline and a splash of excitement surge through me. I feel hyped on E numbers and like we need to all put our fists together and shout out a rallying cry.

Rogue’s phone buzzes, distracting her for a second. I take the time to look around the room again when she gestures to the phone and the door before disappearing through it.

There’s no sign of life in here. No clothes lying around or slippers by the bed. The image that conjures up brings a tilt to my lips. “What are you smiling about?” Monster asks, studying me. His gaze is attentive, causing heat to bloom in my cheeks and a sprinkle of unease to swell in my gut. I’m not afraid of him, but it would be naïve not to give him the respect of being wary.

“This is nothing like I thought your room would be,” I admit.

“Thought about it a lot, have you?” He grins wickedly. “What did you expect? Sex swings and pleasure racks?”

“Mess, signs of life, maybe some club slut’s panties on the floor.”

“Their panties combust into ash before we even make it to the bedroom.” He winks, and I bark out a laugh.

We both turn to the door when Rogue reappears, her mouth agape. “Claire’s pregnant? That motherfucker, did he know?”

Emotions unleash like an avalanche within me. Tears burst and stream down my cheeks without permission. I feel small and foolish and consumed with a rage that could level this entire building. “I don’t know,” I say honestly.

In the next second, she wraps her arms around me, stroking her hand through my hair. “Please let me hurt him,” she pleads.

My misery turns into laughter. I pull away, swiping at my cheeks. They’re sore, the skin stretched tight. I’ve cried too manytears over a man who claims to love me. Love shouldn’t hurt this much.

“You’re like those goldfish when it comes to that man.” She frowns.

“Meaning?” I chuckle, not sure I should be offended just yet.

“A three second memory,” she clarifies.

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