Perfect Rage (Unyielding 3)

Be the protector.

Jesus Christ, I had to get the fuck away before I lost it in front of her. “I have to go.”

“I know.” But her hand was still on my arm and neither of us moved.

Fuck it. I hooked my elbow around her neck and tugged her into me. She landed against my chest then her arms enfolded me in a crushing hug. She sobbed into my shirt while I closed my eyes and embraced my sister for the first time in over a decade.

It was as if someone jammed a piece of me back in place as I held her. It was soiled and ripped, but the piece was my little sister.

When we broke apart, I reached in my back pocket and pulled out a slip of paper and passed it to her. “The code is for a locker at Union Station. Number twenty-eight. Take Deck with you. There’s a duffel bag with some money. Buy the house from Deaglan and put it in her name. The rest of the money, put it in an account for her and the baby. It’s Vault’s money, but they owe me eleven years of my life, so make sure she takes it.”

She shook her head, stepping back without taking the paper. “Connor. No.”

I grabbed her wrist then shoved the paper in her palm and closed her fingers. “I need it done, Georgie-girl. I’m asking you to do this for Alina and my kid.” I let her go. “Tell Deck he brought everyone home. Love you, sis.”

Then I left my past behind.Question 18: Someone who would help bury a body?Three weeks laterWHEN I WALKED into VUR, Vault’s Unyielding Riot, every molecule zipped through my body like missiles.

I was angry.

I woke up this morning angry and I figured out why on the cab ride here. The denial I’d been living in for three weeks had shifted to anger. I was furious at Connor for leaving. I was furious that he hadn’t come back yet. And I was furious that Deck was doing nothing about it.

The day Connor grabbed his things and his motorcycle roared to life, I’d said goodbye. But it was never really goodbye. Because the truth was I always thought Connor would be back. That leaving was temporary. Goodbye had never existed between us.

But as day after day passed and I mechanically went through the movements of living, I began to crack. The denial faltered.

And this morning the truth slammed into me like a meteor and I couldn’t accept it. I wouldn’t.

I’d called Georgie and found out that Deck was at his office. Hanging up on her, I called a cab.

And here I was walking into the office.

“Can I help you, miss?”

My eyes barely registered the secretary sitting behind the desk as I moved past her.

“Miss. You can’t go down there.” The wheels of her chair rolled on the wood floor and then her heels clicked as she chased after me. I hurried down the hall, glancing at the gold plaques on the doors as I went.

“Please. Miss,” she called, a few steps behind me.

I stopped at the last door at the end of the hall where the plaque read Deck Ryan.

The secretary grasped my arm. “Miss. He’s in a meeting. You can’t—”

I shoved open the door and walked in.

My eyes landed on Kai first, who sat on a leather couch, one leg bent and crossed over the other, his arm stretched along the back of it appearing relaxed and casual as usual, but that was more than likely complete bullshit.

When my gaze shifted to Deck, there was nothing casual about him as he sat in a high-backed, black leather chair behind a mahogany desk, his intense scowl revealing his displeasure. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my rude interruption or from whatever he and Kai were discussing before I burst in.

The secretary stepped past me. “Mr. Ryan, I’m so sorry. She bolted by me and I couldn’t stop her.”

“It’s fine, Carol. Thank you,” Deck said while his eyes remained on me.

The secretary backed out the door and it clicked closed.

“Alina. How can I help you?” Deck asked, his tone gentle and the scowl gone. “Is everything okay?”

“Is everything okay? No, damn it. Everything isn’t okay,” I blurted. “I haven’t heard from him. Nothing in weeks. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead. I don’t know if he’s watching me. I don’t know where the hell he is and it’s killing me.” My body felt as if it were going to explode under the pressure, like an overfilled balloon. Was this what Connor felt like? All this bottled-up anger ready to pop at any moment.

Deck dropped the pen he held onto his desk and pushed his chair back. “Alina, you need to calm down before you—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I shouted. “I want you to tell me why you’re not looking for him.”