Page 14 of Blood and Thorns

I frowned at him. “The Beast?”

Gabriel clenched his jaw, that viciousness that I’d witnessed so many times in our relationship darkening his eyes. “I thought Lennon was crazy when he called,” he said with such a pompous tone that I was actually grateful, because it shattered his carefully constructed façade. “Like why would someone like him be interested in someone as small as you or your father? It doesn’t match his profile.”

And there it was. The realisation that I was never good enough. He always wanted me to change to his idea of the perfect woman. Someone silent and pretty on his arm. Who wouldn’t argue back, and simply laid flat on her back, spreading her legs and giving him babies.

I laughed, the sound slightly hysterical, and if I were a therapist, I’d probably be concerned. “You’re such an arsehole, Gabe.”

Taking a deep breath, I turned away before I made a scene and embarrassed myself.

“Baby, come on, you don’t understand how ridiculous it sounds.” Gabriel caught up to me in two strides. “Sebastian Devereaux’s a big name in certain circles within the underworld. Fucking untouchable, and notoriously a ghost. The bastard’s ruthless, and known to be cruel.”

Jostling my shoulder when he went to grab it, I shoved myself through the door and out into the cool air.

“Look, if Morris isn’t already dead, he will be. Soon.”

I paused, turning to face him. “I need to find him. I can’t…”Be all alone,I finished inside my head. I already held the guilt of one parent’s death on my shoulders; I couldn’t handle having another when I could prevent it.

Soft fingers along my jaw forced me to look up. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll get him back.”

“Youknow where to find Sebastian?” I asked, a pressure on my chest growing.

Gabe pulled me until I was against him, and this time I didn’t fight. “Of course. He’s been involved in more than one of my investigations over the years. I personally know him; he ownsThe Thornover in Soho.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“That’s because you don’t fit there,” he said. “You don’t fit their… aesthetic.” A smirk curled his lips, mocking, and all I wanted to do was push him away. But clearly, I needed him. “But that’s okay, because I can get you inside.”

Chapter 8

Sebastian

The punching bag swung beneath my fists, the leather cracking and groaning. I practiced my hits, the strikes repetitive and perfectly timed. I kept going until my arms began to ache, and my knuckles threatened to split beneath the impact.

Tension pulled my skin tight, the need to hit something an almost violent impulse that I barely caged. So after lifting weights, I used the bag, the chain clinking as it rocked. Blinking past the sweat dripping from my brow, I pushed past the pain, unable to stop until my muscles strained and exhaustion finally took over.

If I didn’t, I couldn’t rest, sleep eluding me as nightmares haunted.

Memories threatened.

With a last hit the bag crumpled, my breathing heavy as it collapsed to the wooden floor with an audiblethwack. Sand poured out from where it had split, the grains pale against the dark wood.

Taking in a deep breath, I unwrapped the fabric from my knuckles before tossing it onto the sand and stepping over the mess.

“That’s the second bag this month,” Chip commented, appearing in the doorway. He didn’t flinch when I turned my glare towards him, his demeanour almost as frosty as mine.

“Then order a new one.”

Chip nodded, folding his arms. “It’s your turn to play,” he said, not waiting for a reply before he disappeared.

I gave myself a moment, the sand finally settling into the grooves. Chip and I had an ongoing game of chess, and it had first started as a way to teach him strategy and discipline as a favour to his mother. He was young and brash, and if he ever wanted to survive amongst the corruption of the underworld, he’d have to learn.

Until then, he wasn’t ready for more responsibility.

Stretching out my muscles, I took the stairs down and made my way to my bedroom, the dark colours comforting as I walked straight into my attached ensuite. My knuckles were pink when I raised them, but not broken or bruised. It had been Caden’s idea to practice with them bound, especially when I’d frequently get carried away.

Pulling off my shorts, I stepped into the shower, turning the water on and ducking my head even as it was freezing. I kept myself beneath the stream, only allowing myself to move once the water had heated. I made it quick, just enough to remove the sweat before I padded naked back into my bedroom, my eyes resting on the screen on the wall.

Reaching for the remote, I flicked through the feeds until I found the CCTV facing the garage, but she wasn’t there. The woman with her messy brunette hair and eyes that held fragments of gold.