Page 9 of Billionaire's Promise
Saint growls, takes a step forward, but Damian stops him. "Easy there, he’s baiting you."
"It could have been you, Damian." I twist my lips. "You were the dreamer amongst us. You aimed high—congratulations on the success of your last single, by the way. It hit me, bro; it broke me. It’s the reason I decided to come back."
Damian stiffens, seems like he’s about to say something, then stops himself.
"I heard the song and knew something had shifted amongst you guys. To see each of you find the loves of your lives… It made me believe again."
Weston shifts his weight from foot to foot. I turn my attention to him. "You did good, Doc. Not only did you qualify, you became a heart surgeon. Of all of us, you were always the most level-headed. You kept your eyes focused on the goal, the big picture. It’s not easy to have achieved what you have… Not after what happened to us."
The silence intensifies. The men stiffen. I glance between them, then rub the back of my neck. "Yeah, took only ten minutes of us meeting for one of us to bring up the incident huh?" I say wryly. "Not that I haven’t tried to forget it, but something like that… Well, the more I bury it, the more it’s right in front of me, haunting me at every turn, you get me?"
The men meet my gaze. The expression on their features range from empathy to disbelief to anger.
"Look," I take a step forward, "I understand how it must seem from where you are, but trust me when I say that it was for the best. If I had stayed on, it would have only screwed things further. It was best that I took off the way I did."
Anger pulses from the group. Saint’s knuckles are white tipped, Damian and Weston stiffen. The only person who seems unaffected is Sinner. Which only means that he is livid. Very livid. The anger pulsing behind that cool expression is probably far more lethal than the obvious rage evident on Saint’s face. Shit. I have to find a way to defuse this situation, before one of us does something that we’ll regret. And regret, we would. The five of them, including Arpad, may hate me now, but we need each other. Our strange, twisted relationship is the only thing that’s real in the post-incident life that we lead.
"Edward," I swallow, "he took off this morning."
All four of them seem to freeze for a second, then Sinner jerks his chin. "We know."
"You do?" I turn to him, "How—"
"You didn’t think we’d allow anything to happen to one of us without the rest of us being aware?"
"You had eyes on him?" I nod. "Good, then you were able to track where he went?"
"No."
"No?" I snap. "What do you mean no? We need to find him before he does something he’ll regret. We need to make sure he’s safe—"
"The only person he needs to be guarded from is you, and considering you are here and he isn’t…" Sinner raises his shoulder.
"He wasn’t in his right mind when he called me. He…" I rub the back of my neck. "He hurt the last man who walked into confession."
"That’s when he called you," Sinner says slowly, "so you could take care of it?"
I nod. "When I reached the church, he was still breathing. I hauled him out of there, and took him to Weston." I nod in his direction.
"You could have mentioned something of what happened then," Weston mutters. "It's a good thing I'd never turn away any of you Seven, no matter how suspicious the circumstances."
"And I thank you for that." I tilt my head.
"Still doesn't answer who this man is, or why Edward lost his temper with him and almost killed him?" Sinner frowns at me. "At least, I am assuming that’s what happened."
"Exactly." I rub the back of my neck. "From what Edward told me, the man walked in to confess. Edward decided to help him, even though it was after church hours."
"Typical Edward," Damian mutters, "always going out of his way to help others."
"Which makes it all the more intriguing as to what caused him to lose his shit," Weston murmurs.
"Only one reason he’d resort to violence," Sinclair states. He turns to take in the expressions on the faces of his friends. "You guys thinking what I am?"
"That it had to do with the incident?" Weston offers.
"It did," I confirm.
Sinclair’s shoulders stiffen. A jolt of anger runs through the men. Sinclair turns to me, "We need to question the man."
