* * *
I battled with myself over whether to leave or just snatch her out of the house and take her with me. The decision was made for me when Dash’s busy ass twin tore out of the house to curse us both out. I didn’t pretend to care about anything she had to say until she threatened to call the cops on us both, and unknowingly reminded me of the order to stay away from her.
Like that’s going to happen.
I found it amusing how anyone would think they could keep me from what’s mine with a sheet of paper they called protection. What the fuck was she supposed to do with it anyway? Play rock, paper, scissors when I got her alone?
Because I will get her alone.
As I drove, my eyes zoomed in on the exit up ahead leading me to my brother—I mean, Keenan. I didn’t know when I got onto the highway. I just hopped into my car and drove. Speaking of which, I had to get rid of it. I wasn’t too attached, so I shrugged it off. I wasn’t attached to too much at all. Everything was dispensable. Everything.
The last time I saw my—Keenan, he was fighting for his life and riddled with bullet holes. Now, he was still fighting for his life, but he carried much deeper scars. Scars I put there, and for the first time, I felt something I didn’t want to feel. I felt regret. So now that I finally felt it, what was I supposed to do with it?
The vibration of my phone saved me from the long dark road I didn’t want to travel. I quickly checked the screen before chucking it into the passenger seat. I didn’t have time for my uncle’s bullshit. If he were where he should be, he could dish out his shit soon enough.
When I pulled into the hospital parking lot, I admit, I actually felt nervous. This would be the first time I had seen Keenan conscious since he was nearly killed by my fuck of a sperm donor. I couldn’t forget the look in his eyes…
The sterile smell and cool air of the hospital greeted me as the automatic doors opened, and I strode through with purpose. By the time I had reached his room, the muscles and veins in my hands and arms were straining from my too tight fists. I stood at the door, listening for what felt like hours, but mere seconds had passed.
Quit being a fucking coward.
I steeled my jaw, pushed through the door, and stopped short at the sight of him sleeping. I gritted my teeth at the sight of his frailty. He looked so still and lifeless and every bit like the hell he’d just been through. It made me want to rip out the useless lump Mitch called a heart. But then… who was I to talk, right? I stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. There wasn’t any sign of John, but I wasn’t too surprised. The man was barely a father so it was just as well he wasn’t there.
I crossed the room to sit in one of the ugly burgundy chairs and got comfortable. The least I could do was to wait for him to wake. As I sat there, my mind drifted back to Monroe. It was never hard to do because she was always there on the surface. I was supposed to stay away from her yet somehow, I knew I never would. She’s different. Different in a way I didn’t expect, but she was still my Monroe. Beautifully submissive although a little too weak. A smile spread on my lips when I thought of the ways her weakness benefitted me in the past. Those six weeks being my favorite. Whatever I had expected to gain out of taking her body, her passion wasn’t one of them. Never did I miss the way her eyes would light up when I issued a command, or the way her pussy gripped and flooded my dick when I took her hard.
She hated that she wanted me.
At least we have that in common.
Sometimes I believed I was as much her sexual prisoner as she was mine. Those would be the times I took her the hardest and unleashed my cruelty on her. It would excite her, no matter how much she cried and bitched about it. But it also confused her.
The occasional soft touch and whispered word and random acts of kindness. It was when I was the most sadistic, and she didn’t even know it. I manipulated her and bent her to my will without having to lift a finger.
If I were capable of feeling any type of remorse, I might have felt bad about it, but then it became necessary when she and that fucktard, Fitzgerald, started to dig into my past.
She actually admitted to wanting to use my past against me as revenge. It was the moment I started to actually respect her and isn’t that screwed up or what? Respect or not, she was playing a game I would never let her win.
When I started out, I had one purpose in mind and it was to break her, but at some point, my mission became fuddled and I didn’t know what I was after anymore. I just knew I wanted her, and when I started to want to keep her, I knew I was fucked.
I started to hatch ideas on how to distance myself away from my obsession when the door opened. I reached for the gun at my waist immediately before remembering I was in a fucking hospital.
Get a grip, man.
I wasn’t in the habit of carrying it around until Mitch showed up, and Anya and Trevor were murdered. Of course, everyone thinks I killed them. Even Dash thinks so, but I can tell he tries to hide it.
My uncle walked in, and his eyes immediately landed on me. He stood there while we stared each other down, neither one giving in. My uncle and I never saw eye to eye. I hated him from the start and he avoided me. I guess I would avoid the son of the mother you convinced to leave behind. The beginnings of a smirk pulled at my lips when guilt started to show in his eyes right before he looked away and cleared his throat. I didn’t even know why he bothered anymore.
“Has he woke up?” he asked without taking his eyes off the floor.
He released a heavy breath and shut the door before moving toward the other chair. Silence filled the room, creating a stiff atmosphere. I stared at the wall ahead, but my attention was fully focused on my uncle as he stared at his son lying in the hospital bed.