He had more responsibilities now, shit that kept him in line for most of the time, but he had to take out the trash.
It was a biological imperative at this point in his life.
Rex: Think it’d be good for you.
Nyx: You do?
Rex: Yeah. It’s an outlet, ain’t it?
Nyx: Maybe.
Rex: Think about it.
Nyx: That’s all I’ve been thinking about. I have to help him. We don’t need the Feds looking over our shoulders.
Rex: Lodestar on it?
Nyx: Yeah. We’re only on the ATF’s radar right now.
Rex: Good to know. We have a run scheduled soon, don’t we?
Nyx: Christ, you must be tired if you don’t remember the schedule.
Rex: I am. I’m fucking exhausted. If we’re on their radar, then maybe postpone it. Contact the O’Donnellys. Rearrange things, explain the situation.
Nyx: I’ll set Sin on it. Tomorrow. Not sure if they’ll appreciate us getting in touch today.
Rex: Why?
Nyx: It’s Christmas, lol. Also, shit’s exploded in Manhattan. There was an arson attack on the cathedral. It’s been razed to the ground.
Rex: Jesus. I didn’t know.
Nyx: All good. Lodestar said the Sparrows attacked the Five Points too. They tried to invade Aidan O’Donnelly Sr.’s compound upstate.
God, I hated those secret society headcases.
Rex: Fuck, that was an insane move.
Nyx: Desperate measures. They know they’re dying and are trying to cauterize the wound.
Rex: You’re telling me.
Nyx: Either way, they failed.
Nyx: I’ll let you know if Declan is willing to talk with Sin tomorrow.
Nyx: I’ll be in later to visit with Bear.
I stared at his message, wanting to tell him what was about to go down, but I knew he’d fight me on this.
Knew he’d try to talk me out of it.
I didn’t need that right now. I didn’t need Nyx’s ghosts battling with my own. He’d have Carly back at any cost. He’d never understand my stance.
Rex: All right.
Nyx: Rex?
Rex: Yeah?
Nyx: Merry fucking Christmas.
I smirked.
Rex: Merry Christmas, Nyx.
TWELVE
REX
I’d drifted to sleep after my conversation with Nyx so her terror hit me on the raw, slapping me awake more than a fist to the face could’ve. I almost tightened my arms around her, but I knew from experience that made things worse.
Her scream was from the soul.
It was like poison infecting my blood.
Her fear ate into my skin, making me wish there were something I could do to help her. But she never allowed me to help. She didn’t let me goddamn in.
I rolled away from her—giving her space on the mattress sometimes helped—but as I watched her, as the scream was torn from her again, I knew this was going to be a bad one.
Her hands clawed, the fingers dragging down her arms as if she were trying to get someone away from her, but the worst thing of all was when she dug her nails into her biceps as if she were trying to tear at her skin.
Then, she started sobbing. At least that meant she stopped scratching herself. Her palms swiped against her cheeks, like she was trying to get something off her.
Watching her broke my fucking heart.
Decimated me in ways that not even grief could match.
My girl, my goddamn woman, the only one I was supposed to protect, hurting.
And there was fuck all I could do aside from make it worse.
I started to clamber off the bed, praying that she wouldn’t wake up before I managed to get off the mattress. If I did, then she wouldn’t freeze me out. Wouldn’t act like I was the one who’d attacked her…
Then she started sobbing and scratching at her arms again, and I couldn’t help my fucking self.
Like a moron, I grabbed her hands and pinned them to the sheets so she couldn’t hurt herself. The second I did, she locked up, her entire body freezing, and she released a scream so purely petrified that I jerked back in response. When her hands were free, she settled down, even curled onto her side, with heavy panting breaths that made me wonder if she was faking sleep.
I didn’t push my luck—I’d already made shit worse. That last scream would haunt me for the rest of my fucking life.
As I staggered out of the bedroom, pausing only to grab my cellphone, I pressed my head back against the door. The nightmare still had her in its grip. Hearing her whimpers and sobs told me she hadn’t been pretending to sleep. Each one broke me apart as if Nyx were slicing through me like he did one of his prey.
Hadn’t I learned my lesson already?
In the early days, I’d tried to awaken her.
It did no good. Just made things worse. I knew that.
But leaving her to scream, leaving her to suffer made me feel like a piece of shit, like I was abandoning ship when she needed me the goddamn most.
It was selfishness that had me reaching out to make things better, but that wasn’t what she needed from me.
She just needed me to leave her alone.
As I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling the stubble on my jaw prickle against my palm, I knocked on the bedroom door, hoping that would wake her up before I loped down the stairs and headed into the kitchen to fix us some coffee when she was ready to face me.
She had one of those fancy-assed coffee makers that probably cost a couple of grand. I felt like a prissy fucker making myself a shot of espresso but it made the best coffee, so I set about creating a quadruple-shot because I needed the caffeine.
Once that was made, I slumped against the table and started sipping my drink.
That was when I saw the brown paper bag.
It had been sealed with packing tape so I knew Nyx and Giulia hadn’t been able to sneak a glance at the contents.
Curious, I leaned over and snagged it, then tore it open from the side.
I’d have smiled if it didn’t contain a baggy loaded with my father’s death—a pre-loaded syringe.
Merry fucking Christmas to me.
Staring at it, I realized there was a note inside.
It sucks when you have to be the one to make the hard choices.
I didn’t know Bear, and he’d probably be glad he never had to meet me if he had to deal with me, but no one deserves for their body to be their jail cell. Not if they don’t make that choice to stay alive themselves.
I know you’ll do what needs to be done, but I figured I’d make it easier on you to fulfill his request.
The situation with the Sparrows had me taking my eye off the ball but I looked into Harlow Dresden. He’s a good kid whose life Samuel Haune ruined. I’m making sure that the MC isn’t implicated in his death.
Consider me Santa Claus.
L.
Once I’d finished reading, I shook my head and reached for my cellphone.
Rex: You couldn’t have sent a text?
But I didn’t get a response.
Rex: Thank you, Lodestar. I’m in your debt.
After a couple minutes of staring at the pre-loaded syringe, flicking my gaze between that and the note, a soft tap sounded at the door.
A part of me expected it to be Rachel, although why the fuck she’d knock on her own goddamn door I didn’t know.
Grunting under my breath at my stupidity, I shot a look at the ceiling as if that would tell me if she was still asleep. I didn’t have to wonder for long—I heard the sound of the shower turning on. The pipes creaking in response.