Wretched Love

SWISS

I was drunk.

Or at least I should’ve been drunk considering how much whisky I’d consumed. But the image of her was still sharp in my mind. My sober fucking mind. Her face as she retreated back from me. In fear.

Real fear.

Not fear that was born in that moment, in reaction to the man I’d turned into in the face of her betrayal. No, that fear was older. A conditioned response. Ingrained in her.

Over years.

That fear had been living inside of her for years.

And that voice... I could barely fucking hear her. When she spoke, I watched her deflate.

Something drained out of her. Before my very eyes.

No. That wasn’t when she’d deflated. It had started the second that asshole walked in the door. I hadn’t noticed at first. It wasn’t as stark at first because she was standing beside me. Because she believed she was mine. She believed she wasn’t going anywhere. That she was safe with me.

She’d been brave. Despite the terror that washed over her. She’d felt strong enough by my side to say that shit. And then, when I showed her that she was alone, she deflated.

My mind spun, thinking of all the little shit that had piled up. Shit that had bothered me but that I hadn’t connected the dots on. The way she was surprised, fucking shocked at me doing simple things like thanking her, helping her with the dishes. The way she always apologized for shit that didn’t require an apology. The way she spoke about herself. Constantly criticized herself.

Her running down the road in the middle of the night like she was running for her fucking life.

Everything clicked. Everything that should’ve come together much fucking sooner.

“Fuck!” I roared.

My bottle exploded against the wall.

Hansen barely blinked even though it happened just as he walked into the room, missing his head by inches.

“You liked her, I gather,” he commented dryly.

His casual stance sparked more fury in me. “We need to go and get her,” I bit out.

He blinked at my tone and the look on my face, then he smirked. He was used to outbursts from me, so he didn’t distinguish how this one was different.

He did not see the fire in me, the panic that was acid in my veins.

“Of course, you need to go get her,” he agreed. “We placed bets on how long it would take you to get out of your own way and hop on that bike and find her.” He jerked his head to Hades. “Somehow this fucker won. A romantic… Who would’ve thought?”

I stepped forward, clutching the sides of his cut and yanking him toward me. All teasing left his eyes.

Finally, he saw how close to the edge I was.

Now I’d gotten his attention.

And the rest of the brothers in the room, who had seen a lot of shit from me, but they’d never seen me lay hands on a president.

I knew all of them were preparing to take me down. I was well aware of the protocol if I truly lost my shit.

Hades would be the one to do it. I knew that. Had known it since I patched into this charter. Appreciated it. Liked knowing where my exits were if I should need them.

Not that I wanted to die. Fuck no. I enjoyed being alive. Most of the time.

But there was something inside of me I couldn’t always control, something looking to burn the world down with me inside of it.