Page 112 of Greed
The longer he watched the scene, the more his anger simmered. He was angry at Sara for betraying him. Angry at his brother Evan for not speaking out loud enough. Angry at the rest of them for taking the bait, too. Angry at the world for making him what he was today because it was their failing humanity that prompted the Syndicate to create the Deadly Seven in the first place. He didn’t ask for this shit.
But most of all, he was angry at himself; he should have seen it coming.
A fierce longing tightened his chest. All he ever wanted was a normal life, a normal family, and a woman who called bullshit on his false pretensions. But instead, he got the colossal mess that was Wyatt-fucking-Lazarus.
He revved the engine and cast one last glance at the milling mess, trying to pick up the pieces of something he had yet to fully understand. Part of him wanted to go back to the family, to rejoin the fight, and he fucking hated it. If he wasn’t fighting to keep the peace, then he was working against it, but he was so sick with fury that he couldn’t see straight. After everything, a part of him still wanted to be back with the family who weren’t strong enough to save him from that humiliation, but the other part… the bigger and louder one said they didn’t need him. They were doing fine on their own.
Two of them had now found their fated soulmates.
Wyatt would have to be blind to miss the way Griffin had fought to save his girl, or the way she ran to him like he was her world… and he knew that he’d never have that. He laughed bitterly at the irony. For the past few years he’d accused Evan of deadly envy, but it was now Wyatt feeling the everlasting burn of that sin.
Still, even if he miraculously found his soulmate, he’d never be able to commit. He’d never find true peace. As if to remind him of the fact, the scar at his throat twinged and cramped until he rubbed his finger along the thick, ropey disfigurement. He smoothed the tension away. It had been months since he’d lost the use of his voice and all he’d managed to speak was a whispered rasp. Forget Heaven, he’d never work in any prestigious restaurant again. Say goodbye to the point of his fucking hard earned Michelin Star. He couldn’t shout orders to save his life. As if anyone would hear his chicken scratch voice above the din of the kitchen.Fuck it.He was done. He kicked the asphalt, rocking the bike.
Probably got what he deserved for having faith in a woman who not only twisted the knife in his heart, but sliced it across his throat.
When the uncomfortable ache in his neck subsided, he plucked the tracker chip from the undercarriage of the Ducati and held the tiny bug-like device. He’d always known it was there. It was hard not to miss the green glow in the dark, but he hadn’t been quite ready to make a clean break from his family… until now—now the loved up family was multiplying in his absence. He dropped the tracker-bug and crushed it beneath his boot. That life was over for him. He’d never be able to trust another woman again, and the thought of being surrounded by their happiness made him sick to the stomach.
He snapped his visor down, revved the Ducati engine to its monstrous capacity, scaring the shit out of a little old biddy walking past with her grocery shopping, and then he took off in the opposite direction, not looking back.
It was time to leave Cardinal City for good.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Along with his two brothers, Griffin strode into the basement headquarters of Lazarus House, still wearing his full combat gear. He went straight for the central operations room where Flint and Sloan sat behind their laptops at the briefing table, and Mary paced the floor beside them, repeatedly flipping a dagger in her hands.
Griffin tugged his hood from his head and plucked the face mask off. Parker and Evan did the same, slowly shedding their second skin. Flint had a headset on and was listening intently to something. Sloan’s gaze was locked on her screen.
While Evan pulled out his phone, no doubt to contact Grace, Parker moved to stand behind Flint and Sloan for a better look.
“Have you heard anything?” Griffin asked them.
Flint held up his finger in a way that meant he’d be with him soon. Sloan, on the other hand, completely ignored him. And when Parker rolled his eyes dismissively and walked away, Griffin took a peek at her computer. The rage that surged and bubbled under his skin was so severe that the computers flickered, blanking out.
“Ah, bras! What was that for?” Sloan scowled at him.
“You’re playing a game,” he shot back. Unbelievable.
“That’s because there’s nothing else to do. Jeez. Take a chill pill.”
Nothing else to do. Did she mean…
“Yes. She’s fine. Liza has her and will bring her in shortly.”
He exhaled in pure relief.
Mary gave him a small smile and offered her knife. “I find keeping my hands occupied helps.”
She’d always had his back, even when he thought she didn’t. He’d been so wrong to take it out on her.
“Thank you, mama.” He tugged her in for a crushing hug, riding out the waves of sensation because he knew she missed it.
“You did good, Griff,” she murmured, then pulled away. “You saved about forty people on that train. And that was only the car in danger of coming off. If you weren’t there, and the entire train derailed, the death toll could have been in the hundreds.”
The gravity of the situation made the room feel smaller. He needed to see Lilo. It was an aching sensation that went beyond his muscles lethargy. He wouldn’t be settled until she stood before him, safe and sound in his arms. And the second he had her, he wasn’t letting go.
Mary pressed her knife into his hand. “It helps to keep your hands occupied.”
He turned the blade in his hands. She might be right.
