Eleanor laughed.
Such an innocent sound that had no place in the world we’d found ourselves in. This small oasis of peace wasn’t real. We still had a fight to win, yet her laugh made me believe we had won.
That we could be happy…together.
That I could keep her and know she was safe.
Fuck, I wanted that.
I wanted her safe but I couldn’t shed the creeping, cloying coldness beneath the spare white shirt Campbell had given me. Premonition or preparation…either one warned not to get too entangled just in case this pause in happily ever after was all I’d get.
Campbell stayed at a respectable distance, allowing our hellos. “Her wing will mend. I expect she’ll be able to fly again in six weeks or so. Probably sooner but I’d like to err on the side of caution.”
“That’s good news.” Eleanor smiled, continuing to cuddle the parrot.
Impatience slithered through my veins as I wrapped my arm around Eleanor’s slight waist. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate this interlude…I just wasn’t one to trust in seemingly perfect moments because there was no perfect moment.
I need to go kill him.
Now!
Eleanor kissed my cheek as I leaned over her and tickled Skittles under her chin, careful not to knock the small splint keeping her wing splayed and straight.
My heart squeezed at her swift, sweet affection.
Gratefulness filled me that Campbell had rescued the parrot who was such a fundamental part of Eleanor’s enjoyment on my shores. I wasn’t an idiot. She’d fallen in love with me, yes. But she’d also fallen in love with the world I’d conjured, the birds I shared my life with, the palm trees and beaches that were my playground.
Would she still love me if I didn’t own an archipelago?
I couldn’t punch Cal, but I could punch myself.
Did she teach you nothing?
She would love you even if you were destitute and living in a cardboard castle.
“Sully, what’s wrong?” Eleanor whispered, her gaze tracking over my face. “You’re gripping me so tight.”
I relaxed my hold. “I’m fine.” I hadn’t meant to show my straying thoughts. That all this positivity and peace set my teeth on edge because I didn’t trust it. We hadn’t earned it. It was the calm before yet another storm.
I need to go.
No more delays.
Letting her go, I stepped back, removing myself from such a domestic scene. Jess had been tended to and was in the best possible hands. Cal was awake and inching farther from the Grim Reaper’s sickle with each passing hour. Skittles and Pika were reunited. Eleanor was healthy despite the hurts I’d given her.
I’d fulfilled my responsibilities to those who deserved the best of me.
I was free to become the worst of me.
Released from my obligations so I could finally give in to the fury that constantly blazed in my belly. A fury I wouldn’t be able to extinguish until my brother was dead and I’d delivered his demise personally.
Only then would I allow this sweetness to infect me.
Backing away, Cal caught my gaze.
He gritted his teeth but nodded, knowing exactly where I was going.
Campbell shook his head, and Eleanor spun with Pika on her finger, her face glowing with relief which quickly solidified into dread. “Sully…no.” She stepped toward me. “Don’t go back there. Not yet. You’re not strong enough.”
I held up my hand. “Stay here.”
“No. I won’t let you—”
“Stay here, Jinx.” I pointed at the floor. “You will give me that respect. You will stay out of harm’s way so you don’t distract me from what I need to do.”
“But what if—?”
“Stop.” I held up my hand, putting more distance between us. “I’m going. I’ll be back soon.” Spinning around, I clenched my jaw against the need to limp and shoved aside my pain—both physical and emotional.
I grabbed the door handle and stepped over the threshold back into Jealousy’s space where she lay unmoving by the wall.
A noise sounded behind me as Eleanor gave chase.
I slammed the door closed.
I braced myself, wanting to lock it so she had no choice but to obey me, but the soft snick of a gun set my senses into high alert.
Mother. Fucker.
Turning slowly, I glowered as the three guards from Euphoria aimed guns at my chest.
I didn’t care about their threats.
I had a bulletproof vest thanks to Drake’s decree that he needed me alive.
They didn’t say a word as we squared off. The sound of heavy footfalls came just before Drake dragged his weary ass into the surgery and grinned.
Or at least, tried to grin.
His Botoxed face prevented any form of animation, but his exhaustion made him look like a discarded napkin. His cheeks slouched, his pupils dull, his shoulders rolled, and entire body looked like a sack half full.
He’d yanked on black combat gear a size too big for him. He trembled from the exertion of Euphoria and elixir. He looked weak enough to kill with a fucking feather.