The Absolution of Aidan(67)

“I’ll come with you,” Dad tells Aidan as dread begins to fill my chest. I drop the key on the table by the door. My eyes flit to Aidan’s. We silently exchange the same worried contemplation.

“Like I said, they didn’t say where they were going. I assumed they were going to Hitchcock’s, which is two blocks over.” Aidan’s fingers wrap gently around my wrist. His troublesome eyes shift from me to Grace. “Call Roan,” he mouths silently. I nod. I stand there for all of five seconds after the two of them leave. Memories slice through my aching head. Too many memories. Ones I’ve healed from. Ones that if they reach the surface again, I don’t know what will happen.





CHAPTER NINETEEN


AIDAN





Dread owns me right now. It has my stomach locked up tight. I can’t stop it or slow it the fuck down. I can feel the knives sharpening, my feet heavy like the concrete on this sidewalk that Stefano and I are walking on.

“The cocksucker has them,” I grit out. I fucking know he does. There is no goddamn way Dilan would take this long to get ice cream. Not with all the shit that’s going down.

If Junior has them, then he’s not alone. It’s whoever we think is working for us and for him. A fucking mole, a rat-bastard motherfucker, who is going to die once I get my hands on him. I hate fucking traitors who lie to your face. Who cheat and weasel their way into your world only to betray you.

“If you’re sure, Aidan, then we need to call Salvatore. Especially if you still think there is someone working on the inside.” My hands clench around the smooth steal of my glock, itching to pull the trigger and get rid of the piece of shit who wants me dead. I’m going to fucking kill him. Kill him for all the wrong he has done to me and to Alexis. Kill him for his already dead father, who took my mother away from me. Who forced her to act like I never even existed, then passed his hateful desires down to his cowardly son. I will blow him the fuck away. Put as many bullets into his slimy body as I can.

“He knows there’s a rat. Call him. Inform him about this,” I spit out. I have my eyes trained in every direction. There are people still milling about. There always are in this damn city that never fucking sleeps.

I vaguely hear Stefano’s short-clipped, to the point words slipping out of his mouth. In that particular moment I hear a groan from the alley we just stumbled upon.

Both of us stop, our necks craning in the direction of the dimly lit alley. “Fuck.” I run toward the faint sound . The closer I approach the slumbered form lying on the cement, the more acute his groans become. Deep, heavy, gasping-for-air breaths.

“Mother. Fucker. Dilan. Jesus Christ. Call an ambulance, Stefano,” I yell. You would think with all these people walking around, someone would have heard him back here. Fuck me.

“Son of a bitch. It hurts,” Dilan spittles out. “Where are you hit, man?” He starts rambling shit I cannot understand. I grab my phone, switching on the flashlight. “Jesus Christ, Dilan.” There’s blood everywhere. “Fucking hell,” Stefano says, then adds more light with his phone. “They’re on their way.” His eyes meet mine, both of unsure what the hell to do. The blood is pooling around our legs.

“Apply pressure to the wound on his stomach. I got the shoulder.” I address the wound with my hand. Dilan’s entire body jerks off the goddamn ground when I apply more pressure. The warm blood is flowing through my fingers. “Take off your shirt. It will soak up some of the blood.” No matter how hard I try after removing my shirt, the blood keeps coming. His breathing becomes less audible. “Come on, man. Hang in there.” Out of nowhere, I hear another gunshot. My head whips up and I watch in slow motion as Stefano’s body lurches backward onto the cold, damp ground. “Stefano!” I yell. His body is lying lifeless several feet away. I shrink down, my eyes scanning for the shooter and somewhere to hide. Except there isn’t anywhere for me to go. I’m trapped. He’s behind me. If I run to try and save my own life, I know damn well he’ll shoot me in the back. That’s not even an option. No way would I leave my two friends here to die.

The sound of people screaming, telling others to run for cover, call the cops, all that shit someone should have done for my friend, who is dying literally in the palm of my hands, echoes loudly in my ears, right along with the resounding effects of the bullet that pierced through Stefano.

“Back away from him, motherfucker.” My phone clatters to the ground. I look down at the lit-up screen showing my background photo; the one I snuck of Deidre holding Diesel, rocking him to sleep.