Cracking my neck, I light up another cigarette. The soft click of the door behind me is my only tell I’m no longer alone. Katana, always in tune with my moods, sidles up beside me like a silent shadow. Immediately, the tension leaves my body and I can breathe easier. He’s always been the person who keeps me still when I feel as though I’m spinning out of control.
“You didn’t sleep much last night,” Katana muses, stealing my cigarette to take a drag. “Tossed and turned a lot.”
Like in the beginning.
After my first escape. Back before Koyn invited us into his home and club. Every night back then was like drowning. I struggled to stay afloat when my thoughts were like anchors pulling me down. So often, Katana would curl up behind me and simply wrap his warmth and safety around me like a blanket. He’ll always be the soothing presence in my world.
“A lot on my mind,” I grunt out, my stare on the horizon as the sun rises.
“Night Giant?”
“Yep.”
“And…”
I bristle because I’m not exactly eager to talk about what happened with Cove. I’m not even sure of it myself. All I know is I felt alive and whole and like the boy from my past. The fragile, innocent, trusting boy who walked right into the den of the devil. Those hot, frantic, stolen moments with Cove were like being given a morsel of my past. Greedily, I devoured it because I was so desperate in that moment for a glimpse of who I used to be. When reality set in, I realized the stupidity of letting my guard down.
I can’t ever be Chase again.
Chase got caught.
Chase got tortured and raped and wiped from existence.
Chase is dead to me.
An ache forms in my chest. Longing floods through me, making me yearn to open social media and seek out my brothers. The addiction is real. I can’t stop peeking in on them, making sure their lives are exactly as they should be. Normal. Boring. Simple. It’s more kernels of my past that I greedily snatch up.
But in the end, I’m standing here holding shards and pieces of a young man. I’ll never have him back in his entirety. Night Giant stole certain parts of me I’ll never get back. They’ll never be recovered. So instead of trying to rebuild who I used to be, I have to accept the man I am now. He might not be whole either, but he’s vicious and strong.
“It’s BP,” Katana says, his voice tight. “He has you all twisted up.”
I clench my jaw, grinding my teeth to dust so I don’t spill out a bunch of shit I’ll regret saying later. It was just one night. We got off. He’s still weak and fragile—something I’m tasked with protecting—and he still hates me. The alcohol changed the game, but if I know Cove, he’ll be full of stubborn bitchiness again today, keeping me at arms’ length where I belong.
“Anything from last night?” I demand, changing the subject.
Katana lets out a quiet sigh, fused with frustration. I know sometimes it bothers him that I don’t open up to him. It bothers me, but I can’t articulate some things. Cove is one of them.
“That girl,” Katana mutters, “that was getting beaten on?”
“I remember.”
“She came back. Said she didn’t want to say it in front of her boyfriend, but she knows where Corsetti might be.” He steals my cigarette again, taking another deep drag before blowing out a plume of smoke. “We should be able to wrangle him up easily enough tonight and take them back to Tulsa.”
This is good news, but I’m still filled with unease.
“Where?” I demand.
“A bar just a few miles away from here.”
“Let’s go.”
“We will. Tonight. Until then, we’re going to check in with Koyn and Bermuda. Research this bar a bit. You know we don’t go in half-cocked. That’s not the Koynakov way. Prez likes to do shit the smart way.”
I grit my teeth, knowing he’s right. It’s not like the bar will even be open this time of morning. If we want to be successful, we need to be prepared.
“Try to grab a few more hours of sleep,” I grumble. “After breakfast, we’ll make a plan.”
Katana gives me a nod, squeezes my shoulder, and then walks back into the room. After I burn through another cigarette, I stub it out beneath my boot and then head inside. Katana is already passed out on the bed he shared with me last night. Nees and Cove are fucking cozy in the other bed with Nees’s arm slung over Cove’s smaller body like they’re fuck buddies.
I should try to sleep, but all I can do is stare.
At him.
Baby Prospect.
Cove’s full, parted lips are a reminder of what happened last night. My own bottom lip is sore from where he bit me like a fucking puppy. I run my tongue along the soreness of it, somehow still able to taste the sweetness of him.