Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
I have no idea how she got in or out. The woman moves like smoke when she wants to. A skill that once made her valuable to dangerous people and is now turned toward some mission she won’t explain.
I all but tore my hair out by the roots that day, pacing this fortress of a house like a caged beast. Every room echoes with her absence. The kitchen where we fought. The dungeon where we played. The bedroom where we loved.
I waited, checking our encrypted channels obsessively, for something—anything—from her, only to receive a simple message through our dark web system: Mission accomplished, love. Still won’t be home for a while. There’s been another complication.
Infuriating woman.
Another complication. As if my heart hadn’t already been ripped from my chest and left bleeding on the floor when she walked out eight months ago. As if I haven’t been slowly dying inside, one agonizing day at a time, wondering if each text will be the last.
I thought the hold I have on Anna—that sweet, vulnerable part of her—meant she’d keep calling just to hear my voice. That she’d need the connection the way I do, like a drowning man needs air. But no. These clinical, emotionless texts are all I’ve had to sustain me. Scraps when I’m starving for a feast.
“Would you sit the fuck down? You’re making me dizzy.”
Moira’s voice cuts through my brooding. I hadn’t even heard them arrive—her and Bane, Isaak and Kira with their baby. They’ve been doing this more frequently, these interventions disguised as social visits. As if their presence could fill the gaping wound in my chest.
“I’ll sit down when I feel like sitting down,” I retort, pausing mid-pace before resuming.
“So... never, then?” Moira flops onto my couch with her characteristic lack of grace. “You gonna just wear a trench in your fancy floor by the time MadAnna gets back?”
Bane settles beside her with more dignity, his hand automatically finding her knee. The casual intimacy of it makes something twist in my gut. They found their way back to each other. Why can’t Anna—Mads—find her way back to me?
Isaak watches me with those calculating eyes, bouncing baby Lily on his knee. The giant of a man handles his daughter with surprising gentleness, supporting her head with one massive palm while she gums at her fist. Three months old and already ruling her father’s world with an iron fist covered in drool.
“The new security protocols are holding up well,” Isaak says, his way of making conversation while assessing my mental state. “No breach attempts this week.”
“Good.” I force myself to sit and appear normal. Christ, when did normal become such a performance? I mean, there was a time when it always was. But then Anna returned after a decade away and brought me back to life. I don’t know how to go back to being the zombie I was before.
Kira glides over with a glass of water I didn’t ask for but probably need. She’s got that maternal energy now, taking care of everyone whether they want it or not. “You look tired, Domhnall.”
“I’m fine.”
“When’s the last time you ate?” she presses. “A real meal, not just coffee and whatever’s in reach.”
I wave her off. Food tastes like ash anyway. Everything does without—
“She’s coming back,” Moira says, softer this time. “She loves you.”
“You don’t know that,” I bite, my worst fears flying out of my mouth.
“I do, actually,” my sister says stubbornly.
She’ll come back. She always comes back. But the endless self-assurances don’t ring as true as they once did. Every day she’s gone, it feels more and more like the string holding us together is closer to snapping.
I zone out as everyone plays with the baby and makes small talk. Fine with me. As much as I resentfully appreciate their company, I can’t be anything more than the brooding statue in the corner. Half here, half gone.
I interact when they ask things of me, but barely remember it the next second. My life now doesn’t seem real.
I try to make an effort for Moira’s sake since I know I was such a shit to her all year.
“You look... good, Moira.”
She blinks like she’s surprised. “Uh, thanks?”
“I mean it. You seem...” I struggle to find the right word. “Steadier.”
“Meds will do that to a girl,” she quips.
Bane steps closer and takes her hand. I don’t miss how he supports her.
“You’re good for her,” I say to him.
Moira rolls her eyes, but Bane’s voice is quiet but firm, “She’s good for me, too.”
Bane pierces me with his gaze. I know I’m not his favorite person. Moira might let me off the hook for my shit behavior, but he doesn’t. I hold his gaze and nod. I’m not afraid to take accountability for my bullshit.
“Jesus Christ,” Moira exclaims, “just hug it out already so we can order pizza.”