Page 81 of Tear Me Down
Actually, maybe I should tell him my suspicions. He’d want to know, and maybe it’ll make him happy instead of turning into a paranoid worry-pit every time I get nauseous. That, or maybe it’ll worsen his fears, and he’ll drive us home just to lock us inside for the next eighteen or more years. Probably more. Plus, I don’t want to get his hopes up for nothing, just for me to crush them because of a wrong assumption. Though, maybe he’d want to take the test with me? That way we can find out together, and even if I’m not, I could be there to comfort him?
“Actually, Damien, there’s something…” His phone rings, interrupting me and a pang of disappointment hits me.
“I'm sorry, baby.” He takes a hand off to pull it out and answer it. “We haven’t left yet, Carter…” His face turns stern in only a matter of seconds, and a darkness settles like a fog. Something is clearly wrong and it’s now soured the mood. “What...? Okay, I'll call you back.” He hangs up and pockets his phone. His demeanor is suddenly focused and harsh, as if he’s already gearing up to storm into battle.
“What’s wrong?”
“Change of plans. We’re going to have to leave in a few minutes.”
“What’s going on?”
“The moles reached out and told Carter about a meeting tonight between Hugo, Avery, and the traffickers. We can take them all out in one swipe,” he says sternly, and I can tell that he starts to get antsy, looking around the cabin for anything else we may have to grab, and thinking of how quickly we can leave.
I focus on his face, and examine how upset he looks, how vengeful. He’s clenching his jaw, and I feel his muscles tighten in anger beneath my arms. My immediate instinct is to soothe him. Calm him down enough to think clearly and not make an irrational decision—one that might cost him his life. I run my fingers through his hair to relax him and bring him back to the moment.
“I’m sorry, what were you going to say?” he says, trying to relax of his own accord, but I can see he’s struggling to maintain his composure. This is what he’s waited on, and now that it’s within his grasp, he’s not going to be able to see anything else. I can’t tell him now. He’ll be too distracted to carry out whatever plan to get Dranan, and I can’t have that, especially if I am pregnant. He’d march right up to Dranan and shoot him in the face, regardless of what situation he'd walk into. He could get hurt, or worse…
“Nothing, baby. You get dressed and I'll get lunch.” I pat his chest and move to pull it out of the oven, watching as he immediately goes into his fight mode and storms through the cabin to gather our bags.
After our quick, whatshouldhave been an almost two-hour drive home, we pull into the Attic to see that Serena and Carter are waiting outside. Before Damien can even put the car in park, Carter is already walking up to his door and giving him details about what he learned from the moles. Damien listens as he rounds the vehicle and opens my door for me, holding his hand out and helping me out like always, but there’s no playfulness or softness to his demeanor now. He’s in full attack mode, and I know that the demand for revenge is hanging over his head like a scythe.
The sky is angry again, almost as if it’s mirroring the stress around us. Our own dark, metaphorical cloud looms over the building, and the intense energy from the men preparing inside travels out here. The drive was tense, but nothing compared to what it is now. It seems that everything has somehow turned to glass, waiting for one wrong move so it can break and fall apart around us, and right now Damien is a boulder waiting to act.
As we walk inside, Serena and I hang back a little—appearing to let the men talk, but then she leans her face close to my ear and whispers.
“There was a slight problem with my side mission,” she says, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“What do you mean?” I whisper back.
“After Carter got the notifications from the moles, he refused to let me go anywhere alone. I thought I had convinced him to let me walk into the pharmacy by myself, but when I was checking out, I turned around to see him watching me like a hawk. He sawme buy the tests.”
My eyes almost bug out of my head, but I compose myself.
“Are you serious, Ser?” I angry whisper.
“I’m sorry. I got back in the car with him, and he looked like a ghost, thinking they were for me. So, I uh…told him they were for you, but he swore to secrecy.”
“He’s Damien’s best friend. Do you really believe that?”
“Yeah, I do. He knows Damien doesn’t need the distraction right now.” Her words hurt a little, but I know she’s right. I’m nothing but a distraction right now, and as much as I hate it, it’s imperative to keep my mouth shut. “You still haven't told him?” she asks. I shake my head and look back at the men, making sure they’re not paying attention to us.
“I started to, but then Carter called right on cue. I'm just going to wait, especially now that he's going after Dranan tonight. I don’t want him to be off his game.”
She nods understandingly as we stop outside of the elevator and wait to step inside. Once we do, an awkward silence fills the tiny space, almost giving way to the elephant in the small room. Carter sneaks a glance at me, and his expression is a mix of fear, curiosity, and what almost looks like pity, as if he knew what all of this chaos interrupted.
Damien then wraps his arms around me from behind and pulls me to his chest. He inhales my scent like he always does when he needs to stay on solid ground, and I can feel the anxiety roll off of him in waves.
“You can stay here if you want, or I can get Zeke to escort you home before we head out. The men at the house have already been notified, and they’re on high alert tonight,” he says just before kissing the top of my head.
“I don’t need an escort, baby. You need Zeke with you. I'll get all of our stuff unpacked and hang around until you get home.”
“I don't like you being alone with this going on tonight,” he mutters, almost painfully.
“I know, but it sounds like you'll be keeping them plenty busy. Plus, I won’t bealone;you have six men circling the house at all times,” I argue. He chuckles lightly, in an almost dismissive way—like it isn’t enough protection in his mind. Once the elevator opens, we walk out and Damien immediately heads into the locker room, obviously anxious to get ready. Carter steps around and faces me before following him.
“You haven’t told him, have you?” he whispers.
“No, there’s nothing to tell yet, Carter.”
