Page 115 of Paper Coffins

While he bristles, Beckett has this sincere look in his eyes. “I said, while you’re here, I’ll do everything to keep you safe.”

If that’s true, he’ll grant me anything I want in order to feel our brand ofsafe.

“Then there’s only one thing you can do.”

Beckett sets his shoulders, and I smirk, knowing he thinks I’m going to ask for the impossible—and maybe I am—but I only have one real request.

“Name it.”

“I want Vinnie.”

“Who?” Beckett and Sebastian ask in unison.

“I want Vinnie.” I sit up straighter, uncurling my legs from under me. “I asked what happened to my men. You weren’t very forthcoming with information. If you didn’t kill him, I want him here.”

Cocking a brow, Beckett looks dubious. “How do we know he won’t turn his back on you if he’s offered the right amount?”

“Ah, so he isn’t dead, then? That’s good to know.” I adjust in my seat, smirking. “Plus, he isn’t the sort. I paid him handsomely. I looked after him, he looked after me.”

“Did you…” Sebastian surmises, making a sexual gesture at me.

“Ew. No!” I throw a cushion at Sebastian. “He was my best man, you dick. I trust him to have my back, not my pussy.”

“So, anal, then?”

The palm of Beckett’s hand lands solidly on the back of Sebastian’s head, causing him to grunt in pain.

“Yes, Seb, he took me up the arse. Happy?” I say, giving him the middle finger. “I’m going for a shower. You get me Vinnie, and we go from there.”

I push myself up off the sofa. I need to wash off the blood that’s staining my face and take a long shower. The chaos around us isn’t enough to faze me, but Beckett alone is. His switch between love and hate is nauseating to say the least, and I can’t bring myself to experience it any longer.

“We need to talk.”

I heard his footsteps behind me moments before he spoke.

“No, we don’t.” I turn to leave, but there is an elephant so large in this room, I can’t go. Turning back, I see his lips pursed, ready to argue with me. “Actually, yeah, we do.”

My quick flick between leaving and staying makes him smirk, but I know that won’t last long.

“Do you really think me and Alistair are fucking? I want the God’s honest answer out of you. Do you really think that little of me?”

His mouth drops, and suddenly he looks like he’s aged twenty years. He’s trying to make sense of everything, while also trying in vain to keep me at arm’s length. That question causes an uncomfortableness he’s not been forced to face, and here I am, making him.

“Well?” I push, and his eyes find mine. I don’t need words to know what he’s about to deliver. “Do you know what, then? Fuck you, Beckett.”

We aren’t here for a convalescence of old hearts seeking one another. We blow hot and cold because there are too many fractures between us for us to navigate.

“Don’t you dare fucking leave!” His voice bites out the words, but there’s a quiver in the tone. “We’re not done here.”

“Yes, we are! Have been for a long fucking time. We just deluded ourselves.”

Seeking the exit, I can feel the rage building in me, forcing bile up into my throat. He catches me, and while the grasp he wraps my wrist with is like so many he’s done before, there’s a gentleness to this one. Almost like he’s telling me we can handle a normal conversation. He just doesn’t realise I’m more bitter now than ever. The fact he thinks so little of me where his father is concerned has forced my emotions into neutral, and I don’t know if there’s a way to sway my indifference.

“Honestly, what do you want from me, Beckett?”

Letting me go, he tosses both hands up to his head, pushing his fingers through his dark hair. His fingers curl slightly, gripping onto his scalp, showing every sign of his frustration.

“I want Natalia.”

---