Page 20 of Choices

The air is heavy like a blanket around my shoulders, weighted and suffocating. My skin is damp with sweat, and each breath I take seems to fill me up with more of the overbearing weight of what I’ve done. “I fucked up,” I croak, smacking my fist against the door panel of the car. We’re staking out a Redwing hangout, charging Nicolas’s phone. These motherfuckers don’t sleep. The sun will be up soon, and I counted five still sitting on the front steps of the rundown, boarded-up house covered in graffiti.

“Kitty fucked up. This is her mess,” Callan corrects, peering out the window, a frown on his face.

“I don’t want this to come back on the club.” I blow out a frustrated breath.

“It won’t. That’s why we’re here. Redwings will be at the top of Michael’s list. When they track the phone, it will confirm his suspicion.”

Guilt trickles in my conscience. But just a slither. And not for Nicolas. That little prick was going to end up dead either way, by my hand or someone else’s. He was on a path of destruction.

“Without a body?” I tilt my gaze to look over at him. If someone I loved was missing, I wouldn’t rest until I had a body.

“Michael will torture every last one of those fuckers until he gets answers.” I motion to the Redwings. Some of them only looked like teenagers. Not that it mattered. Every one of them wouldn’t even hesitate to put a bullet in someone. They’re all headed for the reaper’s wrath anyway. Most gang members don’t get past their twenties unless they get out or do a long stretch in prison.

“Liam.” Callan turns to face me, his jaw tense. I can’t remember the last time he called me by my birth name. “This will work, but if it came down to it, we’d go to war for you.”

I don’t doubt Callan would, but it’s a lot to ask of the pres and the other brothers. The Carnells have become a true force, and not just in the underworld. Their influence spreads far and wide with no end to what they can achieve if circumstances warrant it. Their influence is undeniable, a power beyond street gangs or rival clubs. We could take them out, but the cost would be high.

Callan smacks a hand to my chest, jerking his chin toward movement across the street. The guys are taking off, two in one direction, three in the other. We dip low in our seats as they get closer. After a minute, Callan nods. “Now.”

Releasing the car door, I snatch the phone, jerk my hood over my beanie, and jump out of the car. I race across the street and mount the steps, leaving the phone on the top stoop by the front door.

Callan’s already turning the engine over when I get back to the car.

I like this time of day. The sky is still, the world quiet as the sun begins to crest the horizon. “I’ve never seen a kill affect you like this,” Callan says, cutting through the silence.

He’s right.

I can kill without an ounce of guilt—can do what’s required without remorse. Hell, most of the time, I even enjoy it. But the consequences are different this time. And Kitty’s involved. Nicolas was dust particles by now. And if the blowback touches her, I’ll burn the world to ash with him.

We’d waited for the brothers to start crashing and eventually got the body out and through the back end of the club over to the outhouse, where we incinerated him. Many men had become ash in that oven.

Poor Diamond cleaned the blood. Pres told her it was mine. I’d taken a fall, the wound made this reasonable, but Diamond glued my gash together. She must know I’d be dead if I’d lost that much blood, but she’d never question any of us, especially our pres.

“I’m pissed at myself for losing my calm. This should have gone differently,” I say eventually.

“But it didn’t. It’s done. Now, we move on and deal with any fallout.”

The heavy metal gates to the compound crank open on our approach, the heavily armed brothers on watch nodding down at us.

Callan eases the car into a parking spot and kills the engine.

“I need to go tell Kit it’s okay to leave her room,” Callan informs me as we both unfold from the car and slam the doors closed.

“Why would she think it wasn’t?”

“We needed her out the office and away from what was going down in the game room, so we told her cops were at the gate.”

“Good thinking. I’ll tell her. Her room is on the way to mine anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Shower and get some shut eye.”

“I’m not going to argue with that.”

We head in opposite directions, the halls silent apart from our footfalls. The harsh twang of bleach clings to the air as I pass the game room and it follows me all the way to Kit’s. With a firm grip, I open the door and step in, seeking solace in her presence. It’s reckless and stupid but seeing her curled up on the end of her bed, my heart finally stills its rampant thundering.

She’s my chaos and my peace.

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