Thousands (Dollar 4)

Normally was the key word.

It wasn’t occasionally or infrequently; it was normally: as in usually, consistently, reliably.

Damn Pimlico had changed that.

Yesterday had been one of the hardest days of my life, and that was saying something after the fuck-ups I’d caused.

Selix had arrived at the hotel. I’d had a joint. And I’d paced until my heart galloped as if I’d jogged for miles trying to decide what to do.

Stay or go?

Accept or deny?

Chase or sail?

She’d left out of some stupid courtesy to help me.

But what if I didn’t want to be helped?

What if I should man the fuck up and help myself, instead of making it her responsibility to enter a world where she had nothing and no one? Why did I have to accept that she’d given me her love and then taken it right out the goddamn door with her?

Selix hadn’t swayed me in either direction. He’d sat flicking through a hotel magazine for hours while I willed the pot in my system to help make a better decision.

And the decisions I came to was…I couldn’t let her do this.

I couldn’t let her put herself in harm’s way for me. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t the only one with a screwed-up brain. Others had what I did, and they lived a normal life. They weren’t fucking pussies, untrusting of doctors or unwilling to try new things.

I would be more like them. I would get my life together. I’d find Pimlico, take her to England without touching her, and by the time we arrived, I would’ve calmed down and be able to be around her without fucking her. Then, once I had her back in my life and knew she was safe, I’d see someone and discuss a regime or pill that could help me. I would take control of my mind so I could deserve everything Pim gave me so purely and selflessly.

It was a plan I could live with.

So, I’d marched from the hotel with Selix in tow and patrolled the streets for hours. Side alleys and main arteries, shops, and restaurants. I kept my eyes searching for a flash of chocolate hair or a glimpse of sensual limbs.

But I couldn’t find her.

Anywhere.

It didn’t matter.

She couldn’t have gone far. She had to be in Monte Carlo. And as the sun set on our first day apart, I settled in for the challenge of tracking her down—confident in the knowledge that I would find her because I wouldn’t fucking stop until I did.

But then my phone had rung.

And the call I’d been dreading finally arrived.

The Chinmoku had found where my mother was living with her brother. They’d followed her from my house on the hill and raided her brother’s home late last night. They’d managed to murder a second cousin I’d never met before the security detail I had watching my estranged family stepped in to defend anymore from being executed.

Another member of my blood killed all because of me.

But at least my men had slaughtered the two Chinmoku who’d attacked.

Only two.

It was a motherfucking insult by the leader of the faction I used to fight for. Did they think they’d only need two to take out my entire dynasty? There were countless of them and only one of me, yet I planned on painting my hands in blood until they were all extinct.

They’d made the first move in this long, overdue war.

It was my turn.

As per my request, if and when the Chinmoku ever found where my mother had hidden, my men were to get everyone out. They’d tried. They’d used negotiations and threats, but my mother had stuck in her heels.

My men had saved her life, and the lives of my cousins and whoever else was related to me. My men being the bane of her life.

She didn’t care that she would be dead without me watching over her.

All she cared about was that my father and brother were dead, and that sin could never be absolved.

The security team called to discuss potentially drugging my family so they could be moved to safety while fast asleep.

I was about to agree when I’d looked up at congested streets, watched shopkeepers and children and happy men with loving wives, and I couldn’t do it.

They had free will just like Pimlico.

Who the fuck was I to do something without their consent?

So I’d hung up and made the hardest decision of my life: to return to my family and face what I’d done. To finally talk to them and beg their forgiveness so I might keep them alive until I’d done what needed to be done.

Pimlico was not family, no matter how much my heart disagreed.

I had to make a choice then and there, and it motherfucking broke me in half.

Pim would survive without me.

But my family would die because of me.