“Tell her how you feel. Tell her it might’ve started out as something else—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, asshole.”
“—But it turned into something bigger. For fuck’s sake, Carmine, it’s obvious you love the girl. Why don’t you do something about it?”
I clench the glass tight in my fist and take deep breaths. I haven’t let myself think that wordlovesince Brice left and I still can’t hear it without tightening up all over. I’ve never been the kind of man that could fall in love, and why would that ever change? The world is filthy, it’s rotten, it’s dark. The corpse in my basement can attest to that.
But something lighter is in me now. It’s her fault, all her fucking fault. I’m starting to see some good where once there was only darkness, and I don’t know what to do with myself, but I hate what it’s doing to me. I feel twisted and wrong, and all because of that one, stupid fucking word.
And now Gareth is shoving it in my face.
But Gareth is one of my best friends. Gareth knows me better than anyone in the world. I won’t shove Gareth’s face into the fire, no matter how angry I might feel.
“Brice made her choice,” I say slowly because I don’t want to ever have this conversation again. “And I think it was the right one. No, stop, just listen to me. She nearly got killed for the crime of being my fiancée and sitting in a car with me. The Panagos were never after her, they were after me. That’s why I have a dead capo downstairs.”
“I didn’t need to hear that last part,” he murmurs.
“She’ll never be safe with me. I can complain about her family all I want, but I’m as bad or even worse. If you’re right, and I’m not fucking saying you are at all so don’t give me that smug look, you bastard, but if youwereand I really did have feelings for the girl then I should stay far, far away from her. She’s better off without me.”
Gareth doesn’t speak. I let the silence fill the void in my heart and drink. The whiskey’s gone, but there’s still blood muddying the glass. Christopher’s blood, my blood. Doesn’t matter. It’s blood, and it’s all I’m good for. Bleeding, making others bleed.
Brice shouldn’t get anywhere near me.
I’m fucking toxic.
For a little while, I was starting to think maybe she’s right, maybe the world isn’t as hellish and brutish and terrible as I’ve always assumed, and then I find out my own capos are trying to kill me and she nearly took a bullet in the attack and it’s all my goddamn fault. Which means actually I was right, the world is hell, and I should get the hell away from her for good.
So why can’t I get her voice out of my head?
I hate it. I hate myself. But she made her choice and I don’t even think she’s wrong.
“I have an idea.” Gareth stands and plops his empty glass down on the drink tray. “You need to be cheered up.”
I stare at him like he’s gone insane. “Fuck that. I need a shower and ten hours of sleep. Instead, I’m going to hose brains off my basement walls.”
“I’ll pretend like I also didn’t hear that.” He rubs his face with both hands. “Look, you’re depressed, okay? I mean, worse than you usually are. I say we get the full group back together. All five of us, the full Atlas crew together again. When’s the last time we all hung out?”
I hesitate. A little surge of excitement hits my stomach. “A year ago,” I say. “Evander’s thing.”
“His birthday party in Monaco, that’s right. Remember you and Ford crashed that Italian supercar? Then you bought out an entire club?”
“If I recall correctly, and I’ll admit the night is somewhat hazy, that club very quickly turned into a wild orgy.”
“We don’t necessarily needthatlevel of depravity, but a few drinks at the Oak Club might be a good idea.”
I let out a long, exhausted breath, and nod. “All the boys at the Oak Club sounds weirdly good.”
“I’ll make it happen.”
“You’re a good man and a good friend. Still a prick though.”
“Cheers to that. I’m a selfish prick with a boatload of ulterior motives, but I do my best.” He squeezes my shoulder and I nod at him. He leaves me alone then and I look at the fire, at the bloody glass, at my rust-stained skin, and slowly get up. I grab a towel from the drink cart and wipe off as best I can, and when I’m done, I turn and face the room.
Brice is gone. Brice is gone.
I say it like a mantra.
She’s not coming back. Brice is gone.