Page 4 of Double Down
Sit. Breathe. Be small.
Let power do what power does.
But then there’s that little voice, the one in the back of my head whispering the truths I so desperately want to ignore.
Move.
This is your mess. Their world is drugs, gambling, and whores. The world of unpaid debts, beatings in the street, anddeathis yours.
They are above this. You are dragging them down.
Say it out loud and it won’t own you.
Say it.
I whisper the words. “Just like I was dragging Con down when I was sixteen.”
They shouldn’t be anywhere near this. Anywhere near me. Memories sting as they flash through my mind, and I blink back tears—his jaw tight, my hands empty.
My stomach rolls again, but that stupid voice is right.
This is my mess.
I can’t leave it to them to clean. If I want a place beside them, I have to stand in the blood with them.
Getting to my feet, I walk over to the room, stopping in the doorway, watching the four men I…maybe…love talk in hushed tones while looking at the body or at their phones.
“What are we going to do?” I ask. “How do we handle this?” My voice comes out rough, like it had to claw its way up through my throat.
There’s no running from this. No matter how much I want to. I need to face the war ahead with them by my side… even if they don’t want me the way I need them.
All four men stop, sharing a loaded look, a silent conversation that I am not close enough to be a part of. Eyes flick—Con to Atticus, Atticus to Storm, Storm to Maverick—and I can feel the verdict forming without me.
The rejection hangs in the air even before they say a word.
Maverick takes a step toward me. “We got this, Little Firebird. Why don’t you go draw a bath, get cleaned up, and by the time you’re out we’ll have some food brought up and?—”
I fling a hand up, palm out, to silence him. “And what? Have a nice meal around the dead girl on the dining table?” I demand. “Do not shut me out, I need to?—”
“You need to do as you are told,” Conrad interrupts. He eats the distance between the men and the door in three long strides. He tries to close the door in my face. I slap my hand on the cold wood and wedge my foot in the door.
“Do not freeze me out right now. Ideserveto be a part of this.”
“You’re not thinking clearly.” There’s no warmth, or even playfulness in his eyes. They’re as cold as Storm’s eyes usuallyare. The sting of their dismissal makes something inside me crack wide open.
This is on me, and I won’t let him or any of them take on this burden. Not without a fight.
“Oh, fuck you, Conrad,” I snap. “This is mine. Not yours.”
“Oh shit,” Maverick mutters under his breath.
Atticus glances at me like I’ve grown wings. Storm stays quiet, but he shifts a little closer, ready to get in between me and Conrad if he needs to.
“What is it, Conrad? You think I’m weak?” I ask. “That I can’t handle this? That I’m not strong enough to face my demons?”
“That’s not what I said.” He sighs. “Go to your room, Phoenix. We will get you when we?—”
I take a step closer, chest rising and falling. My finger shakes when I raise it and point it at him. “You want me protected. I get that. But don’t mistake ‘safe’ for ‘silenced.’ I didn’t survive everything I’ve been through just to get benched during the fight. I am a part of this, or am I wrong? Am I just the girl you like to fuck?”
