The thought has me scowling and trudging on, trying to find anything inside this brain of mine that can make this situation fuck off. There’s nothing there but how spread out their organisation is, how much more power it has than Cane. Quinn’s right; he’s barely held them back all these years, and that’s lessened still, given his dealings over the last year. We’ve got nothing but the hands attached to our bodies and the threat of death against them.
Not something that bothers the Yakuza in the slightest.
“Nate, wait,” she calls from somewhere behind me.
I’m not waiting for her. She’ll go at my pace if she wants to stay even remotely attached. She’ll do everything I say, exactly when I say it. I should never have let her back in that room, should have fucked my whores and told her to leave before this became something that risks everything I’ve tried to protect. “Please, Nate.”
My fucking heart stutters at the sound of those words, my feet slowing a touch. My name from her lips, the slight tone of fear attached to the plea—they’re everything a Cane shouldn’t have guiding them. Everything that kills safety. “Please. I can’t…”
I shake my head and keep walking, trying to drown out her voice with each footfall that lands in the snow. It doesn’t work. She’s in every breath I take. I can feel her fear from here, regardless of the distance I’m trying to keep. Why? Why her?
Fucking woman.
I stop and stare at the floor, hands shoved in my pockets and my heart pulsing with an energy I don’t know what to do with. Shout? Fight? Leave? My body swings around before I’ve gotten control of anything.
“Fuck you,” I snap out. She halts five feet away. “Just…fuck you, Gabby.”
“I…”
“Zip it.”
She stands perfectly still, arms folding around herself like a lost kitten in the middle of chaos, lips trembling around words she’s struggling to find. That’s exactly what she is—lost and in trouble, wolves closing in as she quivers and waits. And what? I’m supposed to be some kind of saviour?
Jesus.
Time passes, both of us staring each other down in a back alley, snow filtering between us. It’s not a pissing contest; it’s her asking for help without knowing how to, and me waging a war with myself about how I do that and keep everything I’ve worked for safe. Sounds fucking harsh, but it’s true. Conscience or not, love or not, I will not put Quinn in danger for her, nor my mother.
Two dead in my family is enough.
“I don’t know what to do,” she says eventually, fingers gripping onto her coat as she draws in ragged breaths.
No, neither do I.
I continue to stare, part of me desperate to close the distance between us, pull her into my arms, and go all in for her with no care for the consequences. “I’m scared, Nate. I can’t do this on my own. Even I know what the Yakuza mean. I thought I could handle things if it was just Mortoni, but I...” My foot inches forward as I hear her breath catch, her eyes dropping to gaze at the floor. “I’m…” Her hands go to her face, wiping beneath those damned eyes, frustration and chaos clouding them. “I don’t know how to…” My hands come out of my pockets, ready to reach for her no matter how much I’m trying to force them to stay put. “Oh god, what am I going to do? I can’t…” Her legs buckle, the weight of it all becoming too much for her to deal with as she gasps in more breaths. “I can’t save him and I…”
Fuck.
Six steps have her in my arms before I’ve managed to stop myself, her body sagging into me and tears of defeat coming quicker than I thought possible. The sound of them makes me grab her tighter, wrapping her up into me so I can stop questioning shit that shouldn’t even need discussion. Mine. My piece of happiness. For whatever reason, and perhaps because of my life, this thief is mine. Nothing is getting in the way of that.
Yakuza be damned.
My chin rubs across the top of her hair as I grip her tightly, holding her to me so she knows she’s got someone to lean on. I’ll always be here, won’t I? She’s my first. First love, and the first thing to be put before Cane in my life.
She sniffs into me, her own fingers clinging on as if she’s never held onto anything.
“You’ll be fine,” I mutter, looking back in the direction we’ve come from as I kiss her forehead and sway her gently. “We’re gonna be fine.”
I glare at the door in the distance, as if it’s the Yakuza, readying myself for the fight coming for us, and pull out my phone.
“Quinn?”
“Yeah.”
“Send everything you’ve got on Yakuza. Every single fucking thing.”
