Page 25 of Tangled Souls

It’ll change the way she looks at me.

My breathing deepens and becomes slightly labored. Whether I was covered in blood and the assumptions made about me didn’t used to matter.

I was more than fine being the muscle in our family. I prided myself on it. It wasn’t the same as being overly blood thirsty. Protecting my family is a point of pride.

It was something the guys understood and relied on. But what about Oaklynn? Will this change how she sees me?

When her father was taken out, which was the right fucking move, I came home with a bullet graze. The only blood on me was my own.

Tonight is different. None of this blood is mine.

“You’re freaking out over nothing,” Maxim’s voice is a little softer than normal.

“You don’t know that,” I accuse him.

“Our wife knows what this life is about,” Huck points out, trying to make me feel better and stop me from spiraling.

“Knowing and seeing are two different things,” I bark as we pull through the gates of the house.

My leg is bouncing up and down and a feeling settles in my gut that I haven’t experienced since I met Oaklynn—dread.

I don’t want to go inside. I don’t want to see the disappointment in our wife’s brown eyes. Her judgement will slay me.

When the door opens next to me, I jump a little bit. Maxim’s dark eyes, the same ones he shares with his older brother, Kirill, are staring at me and taking my measure. When the hell did he even get out of the vehicle? He shakes his head and lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“You’re underestimating our woman,” he tries to reason with me, “and that is a dangerous thing to do. It’s what Adam did and look where that got him. Mikhail is doing the same thing, and we know he’ll be dead soon, just like her father who also didn’t see her strength or value. Don’t be like those men, Baker,” he snarls.

My head is screaming at me that he’s right. And he is. I know it. But my heart is still pounding in my chest, and worry is still singing through my veins.

I won’t be able to handle it if she rejects me.

“It’s not about her,” I whisper to Maxim after he moves back and allows me to climb out, “it’s about me. What I lack. Who I am.”

“My point stands,” his words are firm and unyielding.

When I try to swallow, the lump in my throat makes it almost impossible. I should have changed before I left the warehouse. It’s the only thought I have when I look down at myself again.

And this isn’t even as bad as it could be. I’ve been covered in much more blood before. I probably will be again.

But this feels different. This is her looking at me and seeing what is real. About me. About us. About the life she’s been thrown into.

I won’t be able to survive it if she runs.

She’s stronger than you’re giving her credit for.

Tell that to my racing fucking heart.

When I look up, Oaklynn is standing in the open doorway with Kirill at her back. Her eyes sweep over us, and her body relaxes as if she was worried about us even though she had no reason to.

She looks me over and her expression doesn’t change, it doesn’t falter. The only thing on her face is relief and happiness.

Can that really be right?

Maxim strolls up to her and kisses her lips softly. His lips move to the shell of her ear, and he whispers something too low for me to catch.

All I can do is shuffle from foot to foot, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for her to look at me like a monster and be disgusted by me.

Oaklynn’s eyes snap to mine and then she’s closing the distance between us. Our toes are touching, our chests one breath away from touching.

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