Page 33 of Oblivion
“I was only getting started,” Atlas murmured. “I don’t expect him to start running around, guns blazing, but I do expect him to talk to us, to actually do something. To give us orders.”
Taking a step back, I looked at my friend, my brother basically, hating that we were fighting about such a stupid thing.
“He has a point,” I murmured, avoiding their eyes. “I’ve been awake for the last two days and the only thing I did was think about Ophelia.” I looked at Atlas. “You’re right about me caging her, but I’m not the reason why she ran away. Trust me, nothing and no one would be able to hide her from me.”
“I get that.”
“But she is not the topic right now. Nova is.” I sat down on the beige couch they'd brought from the old house. “What should we do about her?”
“I say we interrogate her,” Indigo said and sat down opposite me on the chair I was occupying earlier. “We need to do something.”
“I think we should let her be,” Atlas piped in. “Keep her around, make them think that we know nothing. Use it against them. I think we need to be more careful around her, follow her, but without making it known.”
“Then it’s settled,” I said. “We keep her around and see what she’s up to.”
“I think you need to let her get close to you,” Atlas said, looking at me. “I have a feeling that Ophelia definitely wasn’t her target, but you are.”
“Got it.” I nodded.
Silence descended on us, each of us looking at each other. Indigo spoke first. “So, what are you going to do about Ophelia?”
I scowled at him and looked to the side, ignoring their burning gazes on my face. “I’m going to find her, one way or another.”
9
STORM
Cold night airfiltered through the open windows of my office, hugging me with its chilly hands, seeping through my skin, all the way to my bones. I would have given anything for a glass of whiskey right now, but I couldn’t gamble with my health, at least not so soon after waking up from a coma.
The doctor came to check in on me again, but even the anti-anxiety medication he gave me wouldn’t stop this irrational fear in my chest. I had no idea what it was, where it came from, but it lingered on the edges of my sanity. No matter how many times I’d told myself that everything was okay, something was at my insides, holding my chest in its claws.
Atlas was right—I had to get my head out of my ass and start acting. I’d spent too much time attached to that bed, unable to help my people. Instead of jumping into action, I stewed over a broken heart that didn’t even matter in the end. I couldn’t stand for longer than an hour, and the physical therapy the doctor recommended was just another obstacle I had to get over, but I would get there. I would fucking get better and help my people, my family.
Ophelia and I didn’t matter if the people around us would get hurt. I had to put aside my personal needs and focus on what was important. I fucking had to.
It is easier said than done, my inner voice spoke out.Broken hearts can’t be mended with a few words of encouragement, while hiding away from what was hurting you.
Then what was I supposed to do? Go after her?
It was obvious Ophelia didn’t want to be with me. She wanted nothing to do with me. I wasn’t giving up. I wasn’t going to let her get away with this, but I had to set my priorities straight.
Chasing after someone while the rest of the world burned was a sure way to destroy everything we worked for.
Sons of Hades was already a mess, and I couldn’t waste time chasing after a woman who would lead us toward our inevitable destruction. I couldn’t choose her over them, even if I wanted to.
Every part of me, every atom of my soul, screamed at me. It wanted me to get up, to go to her, to show her who she belonged to, but I couldn’t. Maybe Atlas was right. Maybe I had tried to cage her, thinking I was setting her free.
I knew more about cages than most of the people my age. I knew what it felt like being a prisoner, tortured and abandoned. Could I really do that to her?
Could I drag her back with me if that wasn’t what she wanted?
I got up from the chair I was occupying for the past two hours, reviewing the documents sent by other chapters of our Club, trying to make sense of it all. Many of the members decided to get out after the whole fiasco with Nikolai, and with them leaving, most of our operations fell into pieces, bleeding money we didn’t have.
We were the outlaws, the ones who couldn’t really get a job in a grocery store, a bank or in some other establishment, because our records showed that we weren’t people you wanted to have interacting with customers. The mechanic shops in several of our chapters were suffering because they didn’t have people. They had no one to work in them.
Several of the warehouses we held were attacked in the past month by other clubs, because they thought they’d be able to take them from us. My guys managed to keep them all at bay, but for how long?
MCs were constantly at war, that wasn’t anything new, but right now, we were getting attacked from all sides. I had no idea how long we would be able to withstand this without falling apart. These people depended on me. Their families depended on me. If I couldn’t figure out the best way to move forward, we would disappear.
