Page 19 of Tear Me Down
“Damien?” I hear her talking and following behind me, but I don’t have time to explain. She’ll try to stop me, or use her hypnotizing gaze to calm me down, and I don’t want that right now. I want to make this piece of shit suffer in the most unimaginable ways. I continue walking downstairs—keeping my pace quick and my strides long, knowing she won't be able to catch up to me right now—determined to make it to that shitty bar outside of town.
“Hey, D, listen man…” Zeke starts, but then goes quiet, and I can feel his eyes on me. “Where are you going?” he asks, but I don’t stop to entertain him.
“Out.” As I grab my keys, I hear someone follow me into the garage. The steps are too heavy and quick to be Ashia’s, and Zeke knows better than to come after me right now.
“What are you doing, D?” Carter asks me, but I just ignore him. I’ve heard enough of his shit this week, and I don’t need his logical, ‘I think you’re depressed,’ bullshit right now. What I need is revenge. Release. Something and someone to take this rage out on. Reaching into the tool cabinet, I pull out an arm sleeve and mask to cover my face and tattoos, in case Carter doesn’t edit the street cam footage as a lesson. “Don’t do this man, just take a second and we’ll put a team together for whatever you’re thinking of doing.”
“When Serena gets here, will you ask her to take Ashia’s vitals and text me if she thinks she needs to be seen? Make sure either you or Zeke stay here until I get back. Donotlet her out of your sight.” I stuff everything into the side compartment of the bike, and then walk to the wall and grab a pistol, some ammo, handcuffs, and two knives. After situating those in my holsters, I hop on my bike and start it, letting the rumble rattle my bones.
“D, just talk to me, man. What’s going on?” Carter begs, but I don’t listen. The moment the garage door opens enough, I duck under the metal sheet, pull the bike out, and drive away.
Chapter eight
Ashia
I walk down the stairs after Damien, but he’s walking so fast, I can’t keep up. His shoulders are tense, and he has that dangerous punch to his steps. That muscular jaw has a tick, and I can tell by the way he’s clenching and unclenching his fists that he’s gearing up for something. Whatever was said on the phone clearly upset him, and I hate how he’s shutting me out. Normally he would at least give me some sort of information. What could have made him this uneasy?
“Damien?” I try to call out to him again, try to stop him, but he’s already in the garage by the time I make it halfway down the stairs. Quickening my pace until my stomach pulls, I walk toward the door, only to hear the bike rev its way down the driveway. I look through the windows to watch him take off, and the further the sound gets, the deeper my heart sinks.
Carter walks back in from the garage and slams the door, clearly on edge as well. He immediately finds my gaze and furrows his brows, as if in confusion.
“What happened, Ashia?” he asks angrily.
“I don’t know. We were just sitting in the bathroom together, he answered a phone call, and then pretty much stormed out. He didn’t even say anything.” I hold my arms up and talk with my hands, showing that I’m just as perturbed as he is. Carter squints his eyes, obviously more confused than he was before.
“Why were you guys in the bathroom?”
“I had gotten sick, and we just hadn’t moved yet.”
His face relaxes and then frowns in one motion.
“Oh, shit.” Zeke mumbles out, and I look over to him. His face is just as worried as Carter’s, and now I feel like they know something I don’t. “I can go after him.”
“No, I think you've said plenty!” Carter snaps at him and starts pacing. I’ve never seen him lose his cool before, especially with someone from DH. He’s normally the calm, cool, and collected one, not this anxious, worried mess.
“What’d you say to him?” I ask Zeke, needing to know exactly what we’re dealing with here.
“You know the kind of head space he’s been in, Zeke!” Carter yells and grips his hair, clearly terrified of the repercussions of whatever Damien just left to do.What the hell is going on?
“I know, I'm sorry!” Zeke shouts.
“For what?” I shout, grabbing both of their attention. They look at each other before Carter takes a few steps towards me, acting like I’m going to bolt at any moment.
“When D thought you died, let’s just say he didn’t take it well.” He eyes the room, seemingly looking everywhere except me as he rubs his forearm.
“Well, I know he’d been on edge, and that he pointed a gun at Derek that day, but he apologized for that.”
“That's not all he was going to do with it,” Zeke says, and I look back at him.
“What do you mean?”
“He was going to kill himself, Ashia.” I snap my head back to Carter as his words hit me deeply. That type of pain is excruciating, and to think that’s how he’s felt is like a stab in the heart. “That’s why he was locked in your room with the gun. He had it pointed to his head when he heard you speak.” I suck in a deep breath and silently will my stomach not to fall to my feet. Why wouldn't he tell me that? I know he’s been stressed since that day, but I had no idea it was to that extent. The thought of what he must have felt, or what was going through his mind, makes me want to race after him, pull him back into the house and never loosen the grip I plan to hold onto him with. What would’ve happened if I didn’t wake up right then? Ten more seconds…? Five more…? Not even…?
“What the fuck did you say to him, Zeke?” I turn back to him with wide eyes and a shakiness that makes my fear more evident.
“He offered to have my girl come over, and I may have said something stupid along the lines of not wanting to put a target on her back.” He grabs the back of his neck, knowing he messed up.
“ZEKE! Why the fuck would you say that?”
