Page 51 of Judgment Day

TWENTY NINE

For twelve years,I carried my love for Sadie like it was an addiction. It was the reason I woke up in the morning. It was the reason I became who I needed to be. It was the force that drove me. Every. Fucking. Day. It was a crutch I’d leaned on to tell myself I couldn’t feel things for Lyric, that I didn’t feel things for Lyric.

Now, it was gone, and everything I’d denied myself because of it came crashing in like a tsunami against an unsuspecting shore. All the times I’d wanted to touch Lyric but didn’t, all the times she’d asked me why I did this to myself—to us—all the days and nights I stayed away from her because I knew if I didn’t, I’d awaken a dormant beast. Well, he was awake now. And he was roaring.

She’d asked me why, in four years, I’d never touched her. The reason was simple. She thought she wanted me because there wasonlyme. Lincoln wasn’t a choice. I wasn’t like Winston, Kipton, Malcolm, and the rest of the men in the Brotherhood. I didn’t want forced affection. I wanted genuine submission.

Sadie accused me of choosing Lyric. Maybe she was right. I could have taken the Brotherhood down without Caspian’s help. Waiting on his trust fund was an excuse. I had more money than he did. I had more power than Kipton because people feared me more than they feared him. He was careless. I was ruthless. I could have saved Lyric from her fate on Judgment Day, then worked on taking Winston down and getting Sadie back. I could have taken out Malcolm, Kipton, and Pierce without the help of their sons. And then I could have given Lyric back to Lincoln and had my queen.

So, why didn’t I?

Because what I had with Sadie was a memory, a hope, a fantasy, and what I had with Lyric was real.

Because once upon a time, a beautiful girl with fire in her veins stumbled into the Sanctuary, spewing venom at Kipton Donahue, and I wanted to bring her to her knees.

And then, hours later, she tried ending her own life, and I realized I’d do anything, give anything, to save her—even my own heart.

Which was why I went to bed alone last night. It was why I woke up alone this morning.

She needed me in a physical sense. I gave that to her. And I’d give it to her again. And again. A million times over, if that was what she needed. But that was all I could afford to give her right now. I was still putting the pieces of everything else back together.

The morning sun spilled through the cracks in the blinds. Leo and I needed to leave soon. I still had the matter of Winston to take care of, and it was a sixteen-hour flight to Ayelswick.

I climbed out of bed and rolled my neck and shoulders. I was still in my pajama bottoms, no shirt, no underwear, like last night. The plush carpet was warm under my bare feet as I walked across the room to grab my clothes. I stopped for a moment to open the blinds and look outside at the trees and mountains around us. The sun drew out the rich colors of the leaves. As I twisted the rod, closing the blinds, the bedroom door slammed open. I turned, expecting Leo but saw Lincoln. He was wearing charcoal gray athletic shorts and no shirt. His entire upper body was covered in ink. I didn’t have a drop on mine. Someone said I should get tattoos on my back to cover the scars. But I liked them. They reminded me of why I did the things I did, why I was who I was.

His gaze held mine. “You’ll be leaving today.”

I was leaving already, but it had nothing to do with him.

I folded my arms over my bare chest.

He stalked toward me, stopping inches from my face. “And you’ll forget about all that bullshit you were saying last night about just getting started. You’re done.” He spit the words through clenched teeth. His gaze burned into me with the hatred of a thousand enemies. “I gave her one night.” He held up a single finger. “One.” His chest heaved and his nostrils flared. “She’s mine. Touch her again and I’ll break your fucking fingers.”

I leaned in, bringing us nose-to-nose, close enough so that there was no mistaking my words. “Threaten me again and I’ll cut out your goddamn tongue.” My voice was a quiet calm, the eye of the storm. His was the storm.

“Oh, that wasn’t a threat.” His mouth curved in a malicious grin. “I fully intend on following through.”

I moved my head back to meet his eyes. “Did she send you in here to say that? Did she ask for just one night? Because if those weren’therwords, then I have no idea why the fuck you’re in this room right now.”

“She has no idea what she wants because whatever you did to her when she was with you has her so fucked-up she can’t think straight.”

“I think it’syouwho has no idea what she wants. And that fucksyouup.” I flexed my jaw. “Because you know that no matter what you do, those four years connected Lyric and me in a way that you won’t ever understand.”

He drew his arm back to hit me, but I grabbed his fist mid-air. “Stop being so goddamn selfish, Lincoln.” I yanked his arm down. “This isn’t about you. It isn’t even about me.” Rage rolled off him in waves with every word I spoke. “This is abouther.”

He pushed his hands to my chest, shoving me backward. “You have the nerve to call me selfish?” He shoved me again, but I was ready for it this time. I didn’t budge. “You think you have aconnection? You fucking raped her!” He was practically foaming at the mouth as he shouted at me.

In an instant, I was on him, rushing at him with full force until he was backed against the wall with my hand wrapped around his throat. “What did I tell you about that fucking word?” I squeezed harder.

He brought his hand to my face, reaching for my eyes, but I dodged him.

I squeezed harder.

His other hand reached for my throat, but he didn’t have the strength to do any damage.

He was a fighter, trained to win.

I was a killer. Death was my masterpiece.