“Ashley!” he called out.
That had me stopping in my tracks.
Goddamn it!
“She needs you to do this, to be real fucking careful with this shit.”
Son of a bitch.
“You hearing me, Finn?” he pushed. “You gonna do this for her?”
“Yeah,” I ground out. “I will.”
22
~Wraith~
HURT.
Ruin.
Break.
Rage.
The monster at its worst.
Or, according to its creators, its best.
Its most destructive.
Its most efficient.
Its most useful.
A mindset of annihilation, where the mission was all. Collateral damage didn’t exist to it. Guilt couldn’t touch it. There was just action, no consequences.
It was what they’d wanted, what had made me such a major asset. The best of the best.
What they’d made me into.
What they’d used me for.
What they’d tried to kill me for.
And what had nearly destroyed me.
It’d taken me a hell of a long time and a shitload of pain to bind that part of me, to cage the animal I’d become, and to find my way back to some semblance of humanity.
I’d been right on the cusp of hitting the two-year mark of all of that recovery.
Of retirement.
Of reclusiveness.
Of being off the grid.
Of being well and truly out.
But, fuck, I’d been kidding myself to think it could’ve lasted any longer.
Hell, two years was a godsend for an irredeemable bastard like me.
And to be brutally honest, when Scott had come calling and pulled me back in, I’d welcomed it.
I’d been going more than a little stir-crazy stuck in forced retirement. I’d been a person of action for the entirety of my adult life, so it’d been mental torture to remain still for so long. I’d fallen back into that dangerous, dark and high-stakes existence so easily, as though I’d never left it to begin with. As sick as it sounded, it’d been comfortable, soothing, really.
But with that came a significant pitfall.
Every time I engaged in any sort of violence and brutality, it called to the twisted part of me. And, as deep as I’d thought it’d been buried, it’d started to claw its way back up.
Scott knew how it worked. He’d been there with me through it when I’d first become… that, and he’d warned me to get out with him when he’d left. Just in time.
I hadn’t.
I hadn’t wanted to leave that world. I hadn’t been able to reconcile the idea of living a mundane civilian existence.
But, fuck, I should’ve listened to him. Because, just being here for a few weeks, it’d become clear that club life with the Iron Kings wasn’t mundane and it was a step beyond regular civilian life. It was a different sort of existence altogether. An existence I could find true happiness in.
If the monster didn’t take me over.
The bitch of it was, I’d had it down pat. I’d had it leashed.
It was all about control. An intense level of control. My life had to be a well-choreographed, rigid system of checks and balances. Every aspect had to be governed by ironclad rules, rules that could never be broken.
Remaining level-headed and objective.
Reeling in strong reactions and emotions.
Avoiding violent confrontations at all costs.
Keeping my distance from the outside world.
Swearing off romantic entanglements, especially the intense kind.
Jesus. I’d broken every single one of them since I’d let Scott pull me back in.
Since I’d come back into contact with Ashley.
Just a few hours ago, I’d let her bend me and challenge my control. I’d actually lost my hold on it for a few moments. Fucking out in the open, in the clubhouse that her father owned and ran? What in the hell had I been thinking?
The simple answer was that I obviously hadn’t been. At all.
And I couldn’t allow it to happen again.
Scott was right. I was on the edge.
There was no way I could go over it. It would risk everything and everyone. I’d lose everything again. And this time, I had so much more to worry about losing.
My new brotherhood.
My new chance at a better life.
But, most of all, the only woman I’d ever loved.
“Fuck,” I muttered, as I lobbed the blade I’d been spinning in my hand at the oak tree several feet in the distance. It hit dead-center, just like the two before it. Once again, the usual relief and satisfaction that surged through me with this self-created therapy, eluded me. The weight of everything bearing down on me had fucked all over it.
At least it had succeeded in one of its purposes. It calmed my mind, helped to center me. It was a tool I used to regain my control when I felt it straining.
I was about to start toward the tree to retrieve the blades and start the process all over again, when the crunch of footsteps on the graveled courtyard caught my attention.
Light, soft steps.
Not any of the boys then.
I hadn’t expected any of them to come out. They could see I needed space and they’d granted it to me. Everyone had their own shit going on right now too, they all seemed to be keeping to themselves, each awash in their own thoughts and worries about the coming war.
To say it was a tense time right now was a major understatement.
“Finn?”
I turned around to see Ashley strolling up to me.
It was no wonder her footsteps were so light. She was wearing slippers. Fluffy white things. They matched the cotton bathrobe wrapped around her.
She looked like a real life angel casting light through the darkness all around us.
She shuddered as the wind picked up, blowing her hair all over the place. She winced against its bitter chill and pulled her robe tighter around her.
I closed the distance between us and shrugged off my leather jacket, quickly draping it around her.
“Why are you out here so late?” I asked her, zipping her up in my jacket.
She smiled sweetly, her eyes sparkling up at me. “Shouldn’t that be my question?”
There was no reprimand in her tone, just concern. I wasn’t surprised. That was her through and through. Selfless, caring, and so incredibly sweet. All
