Page 83 of Nightmare

“I felt that thrill run through me that I’d always chased,” He goes on, “He explained that the initiation process included killing someone – trying to test how we would feel about it. If we would even go for it. We’d been buying from him for years and he thought we would bevaluableto the gang.”

“I was fucked up – coked out and fighting all the time anyways, so I didn’t hesitate. I just wanted to feel powerful in my own way and create my own identity. I needed that moment where my blood pumped through my veins even faster to last. And Eastside gave me that for a while. I convinced Jax and Mac to do it with me, they’re my family and I needed them so they agreed.”

I reach out a hand to comfort him on instinct, rubbing along his forearm, “So, you guys killed someone to get into the gang?”

He nods, eyes finding mine, “Each of us.” He sighs, “Three people died so we could become a part of some fucked up organization that told us they were our family.”

I breathe, pressing my lips together, giving him the opportunity to keep telling his story.

“It didn’t stop there – we all got assigned jobs.” His eyes shut for a minute, shaking his head on a deep inhale. “Jax was a cleaner. Took care of crime scenes – made problems disappear into thin air. Mac was a hunter – he found people that they needed. And me?” He rubs a hand across his jaw, “I was a killer.”

My stomach dips, swirling around in my torso and I tighten the hold I have on his forearm –I’m here.

His eyes find mine, filled with moisture and regret, “I didn’t want to be. But they gave orders, and we followed. We fell into it, deep, and got fucking stuck. It was our family. Our dads worked, they were always gone. My mom had died, Jax’s mom had moved down south with her new husband, Mac’s mom was the only one that was around – but she wasn’t really. Just another rich mom on the Upper East Side.”

“My soul is fucking dark, pretty girl. It’s tainted, it’s broken, it’s cold… I’m so sorry.” His voice shakes.

My heart cracks, all I want to do is wrap my arms around him and tell him that it’s okay. That my soul is pitch black too. That I don’t hate him. That I don’t blame him.

But I don’t say anything, I just keep a hand on his arm and study his face. I try to memorize the way he looks when he’s vulnerable, when he’s open, broken and scared. Because he’s fucking beautiful.

He clears his throat, “We were lucky to get out. We’re lucky to be alive.”

“How did you get out?” I ask, genuinely curious because I didn’t know you could divorce your gang members.

“Our fathers are very powerful men.” He says, chuckling under his breath, “We made a deal. Get our shit together, go to school, take over the family business and they wouldtake care of it.” He laughs again, spitting the last few words like poison on his tongue. “I don’t even really know how they did it, I don’t want to know. We’ve been safe for years now.”

I shake my head confused, “But you aren’t – ”

He cuts me off with an eyebrow cocked, “Three-piece Armani suits and cocktail parties?” He slices his eyes to mine, “Just like you couldn’t, I couldn’t fucking do it. I don’t want to be anything like him. I don’t want that life.”

I nod, because I get it. That’s why I was sent to Cali, right? Because I wouldn’t conform and become my parents. I feel myself understanding more, comparing his choices to my own.

“My dad disowned me. Drained all my accounts, sold my car, evicted me. He pretends I don’t exist. I moved in here, with Jax, did my apprenticeship, took out a shit ton of loans to open my shop – and became profitable on my own in a year and a half.”

My chest swells with pride. I’m seeing what could be for me for the first time. Because if he can come back from this, I can come back from what’s happened to me. I want to. I need to.

I’ll achieve my dreams, just like he has. I don’t need my parents, I don’t need their money, I don’t need to be fuckingelite.I just need to be me.

I climb onto his lap, my legs falling to either side of his hips, and I wrap my hands around his face, staring into the oceans of his eyes – drowning in them and my own emotions. My heart is racing, my palms are sweating, my legs are shaking, and my heart swells.

I love this man.

I don’t care what he’s done. I don’t care who he was. Because who he is now is perfect in my mind. He’s strong, selfless, protective, passionate.

And he’s mine.

Chapter Forty

Olivia

I’ve come unhinged.

Deranged, even.

All night I tossed and turned, nightmares of Brody haunting me, all of them ending with his lifeless body under my hands.

Over and over – all night, the dream version of me killed Brody.

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