I hang up. The sound echoes harshly in the studio.
My chest rises and falls rapidly. I stare at the shattered remains on the floor. Bits of gray plastic scattered across the tiles. My hands are shaking. The phone is gone from my left hand.
I lost control. If Jace had walked in at that moment, it wouldn’t have been a phone I smashed—it would’ve been his skull.
I turn away from the mess and drop into the chair behind the desk. If that bastard’s calling here, it means he’s sniffing around. That’s bad. The only good news is that he doesn’t knowexactlywhere Andrew is… not yet.
What does he want now? He’s not going to take him back, that’s for sure. He needs to preserve his image. People would talk about Andrew’s absence, draw conclusions.
Then a chilling truth hits me: he wants to make an example out of him. To assert his dominance.
I pull my cell from my back pocket. It takes way too long, but finally, the ringing stops and a groggy voice answers:
“What do you want?”
“I need a gun,” I say flatly.
Rustling, then a groan. He’s probably hungover.
“Did I hear that right?” Kiran asks.“You swore you’d never have one of those in your house again. Why the hell do you need a gun?”
“Can you get me one or not?” I press, ignoring his questions.
“Whoa, calm down, big guy,” he mutters.“Damn. I’m not even dressed enough to be having this conversation without it getting weird.”
I take a deep breath. I have zero patience for his usual morning banter. If I could, I’d strangle him through the phone. Is it so hard to answer a simple question?
“Kiran!” I bark.
He sighs dramatically, just to piss me off.
“I’ll be at your place in an hour. Let me at least wash the remains of last night’s hookup off first,” he says before hanging up, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I plant my palms on the table, every muscle in my body taut. The urge to leave the shop and hunt Jace Benton down burns in my veins. I want to rip his head off and play basketball with it.
A black revolver appears in my line of sight. I look up, startled. I didn’t even hear anyone enter. Too busy imagining a thousand ways to make that bastard pay.
“What exactly do you plan on doing with that?” my best friend asks.
I reach for it. For the first time in a long while, my fingers brush cold steel. Memories hit like a freight train: stifling heat. A woman’s piercing scream. A gunshot.
I shake my head, pushing the images away, and wrap my hand around the weapon. Its weight settles heavily in my palm. I have to face my past—it's the only way forward.
“I’m going after Jace Benton,” I say coldly.
Kiran watches me, searching for any flicker of doubt in my eyes. He won’t find any. I failed to protect someone once. I won’t make the same mistake again.
“And you think you can pull this off alone?” he asks calmly.
“This is my fight,” I say firmly.
I won’t drag anyone else into this mess. It’s my responsibility. I have to finish this myself.
“He left you,” Kiran reminds me.
“I know,” I reply flatly.
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.
