Page 121 of Inevitable Destruction

“It never will, Dom. You gave that part back to me, you know. Made me see that living, even through pain, was worth it. And now I’m here to give that back to you.” Her eyes flicker to Vincent before meeting mine once more.

“I don’t need it anymore, but you do. Let me help you.” I shake my head before she even finishes, but she doesn’t let me interrupt her.

“That man that was in here—who is he? He seems… pretty fucking attached to you. Vin had to have him hauled out so we could come in.”

“Man? What man?” I shoot up in bed. I’m hit with a wall of disorientation so thick, I fall backward, swimming through the waves crashing against me. I breathe heavily through them, forcing every breath in and out with my tongue pressed against the front of my teeth.

“I recognize him, Dom. And the other cop out there, too. Are you in trouble?”

“Essa, there are some things you don’t need to fucking know.”

“I understand,” she sniffles and wipes at the tears trailing down her porcelain cheeks. Her arms are bare, and I can see the multitude of silvery scars marring her skin, some tattoos placed over top, not hiding them, but more like enhancing them.

“You look good. Happy.”

“I am.” She smiles, and my gut twists. Some part of me—the bigger part—is relieved that she is. I’ve been worried Vincent killed her with that rage he can’t seem to control, but she looks good, healthy. Better than ever.

But the small, sick part of me hates her for it, for not being as affected by my loss as I was over hers.

Her disappearance ruined my sobriety. I wish I could hate her for it, but I know it was my own doing. I decided to swallow those pills. Every decision I made was mine. The reasoning might have been because of her, but still—my doing.

“Can Dom and I talk? Alone, Vincent.” Essa’s tone has a bite to it, and I hold back my own smirk at the way Vincent glares at her before stalking over. He wraps his large hand around her throat and yanks her head back. He assaults her mouth with his, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, eliciting moans from her small, scarred throat.

I roll my eyes at his blatant, obvious display of dominance, already annoyed by their presence, but some part of me also fortunate, relieved.

“That’s not necessary,” I mumble, picking at the blanket covering my legs, making them sweat. “I’m fucking a guy. Well, I guess was.”

Vincent pulls away from Essa with a wet smack. His eyes find mine, a hint of amusement glittering in them.

“You’re a prick.” I scoff.

“Leave him alone. Your best friend is gay, and so is mine. With each other, in case you forgot. So fuck off, Vin. I’ll call you later.”

“Essa,” he growls, and she smirks, turning away from him with a flick of her middle finger in the air.

He tugs on the ends of her hair, arching her neck and sinking his teeth into the skin there. “You’re going to pay for that later, baby doll.”

“Looking forward to it.” She laughs and pulls away, straightening in the chair. Vincent leaves the room without a backward glance.

I heave out a sigh of relief seeing him disappear, and Essa laughs lightly. She grabs my hand again, and I let her. It’s a strange sensation, but a welcome one.

“A lot has happened, huh,” she whispers, and I shrug, wincing as I do.

“Seems like it, baby girl.” The nickname falls unbidden from my lips, and this time I wince for an entirely different reason. “Ah, shit. Sorry.” My brain still isn’t firing on all cylinders, the black cloud still hanging above my head.

“Don’t be. I missed it—and you.” Her words remind me of the pain she put me through, and I fight the urge to pull away from her again.

“I missed you too, but seriously. Why are you here? Why now?”

“Apparently, Vin’s been keeping up with you—I don’t know exactly. All I know is he told me you were in the hospital and said we needed to come. I know; it surprised me, too,” she adds when she notices my wide-eyed expression.

“He seems to know a lot of shit about things he shouldn’t, but right now, I’m not complaining. Not if I get to be here with you, to help you through this.”

“Help me through what, exactly?” I sneer, hating the defensive tone I’m taking on.

“Help you get help, Dom. You know what I mean, and you know I know what the fuck these are. There isn’t any point in trying to deny it.” She presses against a particularly nasty mark as if to prove her point, and I wince, hissing.

“I don’t want help.”

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