Now open your eyes

A shark who had pla

I’d promised she would never lose me.

“Fuck you,” I whispered, my eyes darting over the counter as the puzzle became clearer. Slowly, I lifted my chin until our eyes met. First the news from James about Dex’s plans with Adrian, now this? My voice increased, the rage spilling into every word, “It was never over, was it?” My clenched fist pounded over the counter. “You think I’d give up my life to build your empire?”

There was humor in Dex’s narrowed eyes. “You fed me an opportunity, and I took it. You’re killing Ghost, and if you make it out alive, you can leave. You have my word.”

A dry chuckle stumbled from my lips. “Yeah? And what am I going to do with that? Throw it at you?”

Dex gripped my collar and yanked me forward until our foreheads collided. Spit flew from his lips as he screamed, “You will kill Ghost.”

“Go to Hell,” I stated, pushing him off me, and he stumbled backward. “I’m done with this bullshit. Find another bitch.”

I turned to leave when Dex’s voice touched the back of my neck. “You know what your Mum said once she found out Oscar’s death was your fault?” Dex’s tone was calm, practiced, and I paused in the middle of the living room and slid my gaze to her, “The only way to break you, was to break your heart. And I thought to myself … She’s exactly right. Oliver’s fucking heart. But what exactly makes Oliver Masters heart beat? I mean, he willingly gave up forty grand in exchange to find a fucking security guard. He drives an old station wagon for crying out loud, so it was never money he wanted. And sex?” He chuckled. “The young chap fingered a tight hole but didn’t smash. And for a while there, I almost believed the wanker sucked cock. But that only left one thing. Family. And I’m not talking about his brother or Mum … because we all know mummy dearest tried to get rid of him a long time ago. He never forgave her for the poisoning, the suffocation …”

With my gaze locked on Mum, my eyes burned. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she tilted her face to the side, breaking the co

Dex flashed a smile. “Well, you know how that story went.”

“Get to the fucking point.”

“Point is, it was never what made his heart beat, but who,” Dex shoved his hand into the pocket of his pants and retrieved his phone. His eyes fixed to the bright screen as his finger scrolled. “Jake, Travis, and little Turner, who’s grown so much,” he gri

I blinked once, fear having a tight grip on my heart, and Dex pushed the phone back into his pocket. “You will kill Ghost, Oliver,” he continued. “And as long as the job gets done, I’ll make sure nothing ever happens to any of them. Chances are, yeah … you’ll die in that room, but you can at least die knowing Mia is safe. And if you so much as try to take me out, my boys standing right outside know the deal. Mia’s dead, all the bloodshed would be on your hands, and you’ll go back to prison for life.” Dex lifted his palms in the air and tilted from side to side, imitating a scale. “I’d say, things aren’t looking too good for you, mate.”

A scream ripped through me in the cabin of the car as I raced home to Mia in the middle of the black night and under the same moon I’d dreamed under countless times. I passed every car in my way, going well over a hundred miles per hour on M25 after the Queen Elizabeth II bridge.

My hand pounded over the glove compartment for it to open, and I shuffled inside for the stale pack of cigarettes, needing something to settle the anxiety. I lit the cigarette, an orange glow between my eyes, and inhaled the menthol, but the nicotine never eased the anxiety tearing me apart. Mia wasn’t safe, and there was only one way to make sure no one would touch her.

I had to break my promise.

I had to let go of her hand.

When I reached our cottage, my gaze fixed on our Christmas tree, pouring white lights from inside the house through the window as my feet flew up the steps and through the front door. Mia jumped from the spot in the corner of the couch, the blanket falling to the floor. “Ollie, what’s wrong?” she asked, walking toward me in my MAKE LOVE NOT WAR tee, her hair still damp from the shower.

Her hand reached for my chest, but my heart couldn’t take it. “You have to go,” I said, clutching her wrist and pulling it away. I walked into our bedroom and stood in front of the closet, and Mia followed close behind. “You can’t stay with Summer or Jake,” my hands shook as I pulled down a duffle from the top of the closet and turned toward her dresser, “You have to go back.” Every drawer I yanked open fell to the floor, and my hands automatically grabbed clothes, shoving them into the duffle while a fire blazed behind my eyes. I couldn’t see clearly. I couldn’t think clearly. The only goal consuming my brain was getting Mia back on a plane to the states—to get her as far away from here as possible.

“Ollie, stop!” Mia cried at my side, yanking clothes from my hands and pushing me away from the dresser. “I’m not leaving you!”

Turning, I gripped her shoulders and bent down to face her. “I fucking lied, Mia. Does this look like the face of someone who isn’t afraid?” I asked her, and my own reflection bounced off her golden-brown eyes. Raw. Vulnerable. Stripped to the core of my soul. “Because I’m terrified! I can’t allow anything to happen to you. This is the only way!”

Mia squinted her eyes and shoved my arms off her. “You’re a real son of a bitch, you know that? What happened to you and I? What happened to staying through this together?”

“There’s no you and I if we’re both fucking dead,” I shouted, and Mia turned, so I stepped out in front of her with my finger pointing at the wall. “You’re getting on that plane, Mia! You’re going be quiet, listen to me for once in your life, and get on that fucking plane.”

My gaze locked with hers, both of our chests heavily heaving. By this point, Mia’s eyes were bloodshot, soft lips trembling, and my heavy heart slammed inside its brittle cage, no match against her and the power she had over me. My breath held, tears sprang in my eyes, and a finality crossed her expression.

She’d made up her mind.

Mia walked around the bed, grabbed a pillow, and headed for the living room. “Make sure to clean up the mess when your done with your tantrum,” she barely whispered through her tears. A desperate growl erupted from deep in my throat, and I grabbed a drawer and threw it across the room, drilling a hole through drywall above the bed before crumbling to the floor against the dresser.

Hours passed, and the only sound in our home was a show playing over the telly and Mia’s soft sniffles from the living room. I’d been in this same position the entire time, bent at the knees and my legs numb. Utterly drained from the toll of emotions happening within me, my limbs were weak as I got to my feet and made my way to her.

Mia’s back was to me as she laid over our leather couch, her brown hair spilling off the pillow and over the edge. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, and she turned over at the sound of my voice to face me. Her eyes were swollen and cheeks so red, her freckles were lost, but still so goddamn beautiful. “I’m scared, Mia.”