“And Katsu Mori was forced to step down from the boards of Mitchell & Young and Stewart Banks,” Rika explained. “Both of which helped finance Evans’s real estate projects over the next several years.”
“Which my father might not have been inclined to support if he’d still been on the boards, since he hates your dad,” Kai said to Michael.
It had all come together. The past seven years spreading out before us in a maze that took all of us to complete, but finally made perfect sense once and for all.
The amount of people who had played us like puppets for their own end, and the amount of time I wasted being ignorant of all of it and floating with the current...
I almost wish I could go back to the nights at Delcour and fucking with Rika when we thought it was all her fault. How simple it was then.
“Alex?” Rika said. “You okay?”
I looked over my shoulder, realizing Alex hadn’t spoken since we boarded. She leaned into the windows, arms folded across her chest and staring off.
After a moment, she nodded but didn’t make eye contact, the usual square to her shoulders in an unnerving slump.
“Only three of you came on board,” Damon said. “Where are the other two prisoners? Our research said there were five.”
But neither Alex nor I answered.
I stared at the dazed look on her face, completely defeated.
She’d never see him again.
But just then, she pulled herself up straight, cleared her throat, and cracked her knuckles. “I need to spar. Now.”
“Rika or me?” Banks asked.
She shot off, toward the door where I stood. “I’ll take you both.”
She passed me and left the car, followed quickly by the girls with Winter’s hand locked in Rika’s as they all followed Alex.
I hesitated only a moment before I opened the door again. “I need to make those calls,” I said, leaving.
But Michael’s voice rang out behind me. “Is anyone from that house coming for us?”
But I didn’t turn back or answer. Aydin Khadir was problem six hundred fifty-three, and I was only on number four.
• • •
I ended my fourth call, setting the phone down as I rose from the chair. I was still in my semi-wet jeans, but instead of heading into the shower or changing into the suit laid out for me on the bed, I turned and stared out the window instead.
The night passed by quickly, the sea on the horizon calm and black as I ground my fist.
Martin Scott was dead meat. He deserved to rot in an unmarked grave in the middle of the woods where he’d be alone and forgotten.
The hell he put Emmy through...
I was angry and disappointed with her, and I’d never look at her again, but as much as I hated to admit it…maybe I understood how she thought she didn’t have any other choice.
Her only unforgivable mistake was the years of silence since.
She should’ve stepped up and sought us out. How did anyone live like that?
I didn’t want to make her suffer anymore. I just wanted her out of my life for good. It was obvious now that we weren’t right and that she wasn’t one of us.
I was ready to live.
A knock sounded on the door, and I tensed, hearing it immediately open behind me.
“Hey,” Misha said, and I heard the door close.
I drew in a deep breath and exhaled, his presence making me feel like the walls were closing in. We were always close, despite the age difference, but I hated that he’d gotten tangled up in this. He never liked drama, and he hated my friends.
And I’d been without him a long time. Too long.
I turned and studied him, seeing the tail of a tattoo drift over his collarbone and his lip ring gleam in the small light.
He shifted on his feet. “I’m sorry it took us so long to find you,” he said.
I crossed my arms over my chest and headed back to the desk, folding up the notes I’d taken from my calls and slipping the paper into my back pocket. “I wasn’t waiting for a rescue or expecting one.”
“Your fucking parents,” he mumured. “They just…”
“They didn’t send me there,” I told him.
My parents would never do that. They were at their wits ends, trying to figure out what to do with me, and they hid it from the rest of the family pretty well, but they wouldn’t give up on me like that.
“Grandpa?” Misha guessed.
“It doesn’t matter.”
I wasn’t ready to talk about Blackchurch and how I came to be there until I was sure my plan would work. I wasn’t in the clear yet, and I didn’t want to come clean until I was.
Misha stood there like they all stood there, because shit had changed, and it would be a while before we got back to normal. If ever.
He chuckled lightly. “I seem to remember your advice about not getting tattoos anywhere visible while wearing a suit?” he teased.
I met his eyes, seeing his gaze on my hands and the dark ink I’d added over the past year while I was gone.
I stood by my advice, but fuck it. I’d been bored there.
He approached, but I kept my gaze averted. “You were there for me—or tried to be as much as I would allow—when Annie died. I’m so sorry it took us so long.”
His hands shook a little, and I could hear the sorrow in his voice.
It took a moment to get the words out. “I was always coming home,” I assured him. “Don’t worry about it.”
He was going to be pissed when he found out who was really to blame. I didn’t want him carrying any guilt.
“You’re different,” he said.
I nodded. “Yeah, I grew up.”
“I wish you hadn’t.”
I stopped and looked up at him.
“You never did see how much everyone needed you.” A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You. Just the way you were.”
No one needed me. I’d been useless.
But I wasn’t anymore. Devil’s Night was in three days, and Thunder Bay would be ours, free and clear, in four days if I had anything to say about it.
Misha looked like he wanted to hug me or something, which was strange, because he wasn’t affectionate, but then he turned and walked for the cabin door, opening it to leave.
I wanted to go after him, but… I picked up the phone, getting ready to make another call instead.
Nothing was going to be normal for a while with any of them. I had to stay focused.
But then I heard Damon’s voice. “I need to talk to him.”
I shot my eyes up, seeing him loom over Misha and trying to squeeze past.
“I’m trying to fucking leave, if you would move,” Misha spat out.
Damon pushed his way in, Misha stumbling into the hall, but I stalked over and grabbed the door before Damon could close it.
“I can’t right now,” I told him. “I’ll talk later.”
“No…”
“I can’t.” I pushed him out the door. “Please, man…”
My pulse raced, my blood boiled, and my brain was spiraling out of control. I had a chess board full of pieces, and I was playing both sides. I needed to think. There was no time to lose. He could ruffle my hair later.
“Dammit,” Damon growled. “Are you fucking kidding me?”