Page 22

Dante

“Shit,” Torment growled, his gaze darting between me and Danny. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do. You get Danny cleaned up. I’m making calls.”

“To whom?”

“Montana first, then Val. And don’t even think about stopping me. I need her medical opinion.”

“About what?”

Torment sighed, the sound heavy with weariness. “Sypher. I think he’s bipolar. And if I’m right... he needs help. Extensive help. And that includes you.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “I don’t need help.”

“Saying that screams the opposite,” Torment scoffed, his voice sharper now. “You saw your husband with another woman, then you killed her. Then you shot Sinclair. Intern, you’re drowning and you’re pretending to tread water.”

His accusation hung in the air, a lead weight in my chest.

He was right, brutally, undeniably right, and the admission gnawed at me. It wasn’t just the acts themselves; it was the ease with which I’d committed them. A chilling calm had settled over me, a calm that terrified me.

I opened my mouth to argue, the familiar defiance rising, but Torment cut me off.

“Don’t. Just... go take care of Danny. He’s been through hell.”

He was right, of course. But a different kind of rightness clawed at me. The rightness of escape. Of running, of disappearing before this all unraveled completely. A selfish, cowardly rightness that felt strangely comforting in the face of overwhelming guilt and fear. I shoved it down hard, focusing on the image of Danny’s broken face.

I nodded, my movement stiff.

As I turned, Torment’s voice stopped me. “And, Intern?” I waited, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. “Be gentle with him. He’s vulnerable.”

His words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the brutal reality of what I’d done.

Gentle? I’d shown little gentleness lately, to anyone. The thought of touching Danny, of offering him comfort... it felt almost... wrong. Like a betrayal of myself, of the darkness I felt creeping closer.

I gave a small, strained smile. “I will,” I lied, the lie bitter on my tongue.

With Danny, the conflicting emotions intensified. As I helped him into the shower, the warmth of the water was a stark contrast to the icy grip of fear constricting my heart. Torment’s words echoed in my head: you need help . But more pressing was the growing feeling that I didn’t deserve help. That I didn’t deserve Danny’s gentle trust, his quiet acceptance.

He stood there, silent and stoic, and the sight of him, so broken yet still somehow strong, ignited a fierce, selfish protectiveness. A protectiveness born not out of love, but out of guilt, a desperate need to atone for the darkness I’d embraced. It felt like a thin, fragile shield against the crushing weight of my own actions.

Washing him, the simple act of caring, felt like a performance. Almost a desperate attempt to convince myself, and perhaps him, that I wasn’t entirely lost. A pathetic attempt to redeem myself.

After the shower, I wrapped him in a towel, my own hands trembling. The relief I felt when he closed his eyes, exhausted, was immediate but short-lived. Torment’s words, the calls he had to make, slammed back into me.

The thought of facing Montana, of explaining... of admitting my failings... felt like a slow, agonizing death, a self-inflicted wound that I desperately, selfishly wanted to avoid. But I knew I couldn’t. The weight of my choices, of my failures, bore down on me.

And this time, there was no escape.

Whispered muffles disturbed my sleep. I opened my eyes to see Dr. Robinette, Torment, and Malice locked in a tense argument. The words “ Diamond Creek ,” “ Gunner ,” and “ Dr. Walker ” pierced the haze of my sleep, jolting me fully awake.

My stomach clenched.

Diamond Creek. Ellery and Jessica were there. A wave of relief washed over me, quickly followed by a chilling dread. Could I really involve them? Danny’s safety was paramount, but dragging our friends into this... it felt like a betrayal of their trust, a reckless gamble with their lives.

“I found Dr. Walker. She’s in Diamond Creek, Nebraska,” Dr. Robinette said, her voice deceptively reluctant.

Torment and Malice groaned, their displeasure palpable.

I knew the area intimately. Danny and I spent some time there. The thought of seeing Ellery and Jessica again, their welcoming faces swimming in my mind’s eye, fueled my desperation. I needed help, and I knew they wouldn’t deny me. I knew it. But my quiet certainty cracked under the weight of my own self-doubt. Was I being selfish? Was that the right decision? My loyalty to Danny warred with my concern for my friends.

“Great,” Torment snarled. “That’s Silver Shadows territory.”

“Gonna need Fury, Mercy, or Montana to call King and let him know,” Malice added, his voice grim.

The pit in my stomach deepened. Dr. Robinette’s next words were a gut punch.

“Dr. Walker... she’s been claimed by one of the brothers.”

“Shit,” Malice cursed. “Which one?”

“Gunner.”

The name hit me like a physical blow. Gunner. The imposing figure from the Silver Shadows’ clubhouse. Dangerous, yes, but also surprisingly understanding. He’d listened when others hadn’t. But his woman... that changed everything. I could almost feel the weight of his disapproval, the simmering fury that would erupt if he learned she was even remotely connected to us.

My blood ran cold. I knew in that moment I had made a mistake even considering involving Ellery and Jessica. I couldn’t do that to them. I wouldn’t.

Malice shook his head. “Great. He’s the Sergeant at Arms for the club and a big motherfucker. A dominant. He won’t let his woman anywhere near Sypher or our Intern.”

Malice’s words were a condemnation of my already fractured plan.

Val’s smirk felt like a cruel mockery of my inner turmoil. “She already agreed to meet them. But not in Diamond Creek. Albin, Wyoming. A small town, thirty minutes from the border. She’s willing to drive to meet them in a safe environment. What did Montana say?”

Torment’s smirk was devoid of humor. “Yeah, about that. Couldn’t reach him. Talked to Reaper. Shit hit the fan in Oklahoma. Montana confronted Kansas... Let’s just say the Stone temper reared its ugly head. Both idiots are in jail. Reaper’s trying to do damage control, and Mercy’s flown out to stop Montana from killing Kansas.”

Dr. Robinette’s voice was flat, devoid of hope. “So, we’re on our own, then?”

“Looks that way.” Torment sighed.

Sitting up on the bed, I rubbed my forehead as Danny still slept next to me, his pained face a cruel mockery of the turmoil raging inside me. “Danny needs help,” I admitted. “I don’t care where we go or who we have to see. If that means taking him to see Dr. Walker, then so be it.” The lie unresolved, unspoken but palpable.

Going back meant involving friends I knew Danny wanted to protect.

“I’ll do my best to control the fallout,” I whispered, the words a desperate prayer rather than a confident assertion. Because I knew, with a sickening certainty, that I wouldn’t be able to control shit. The second Ellery or Jessica learned we were in the area, they wouldn’t stop until they got to us. Gunner, my God, Gunner... the thought of his fury felt like a physical blow. He’d kill me himself before letting anyone else touch me for involving his woman. And he would have every right, damn it. That’s not to mention what Ellery’s husband, Ryder, would do when he learned his pregnant wife was involved.

But I didn’t see any other way.

Danny needed help and if Dr. Walker was the best, then that’s what he would get.

The flight from New York City to Cheyenne, Wyoming was uneventful, thanks to the medication Dr. Robinette prescribed to help calm Danny down. Even so, every little movement, every shift in the plane’s hum, seemed to drive his mind deeper into the darkness—a darkness I felt reflected in the hollowed-out spaces behind his eyes. The pills masked his symptoms, but not the cause, and I felt a sickening guilt, an icy knot in my stomach.

This wasn’t a cure. It was a postponement, a cowardly delay in the inevitable confrontation with the truth.

His truth. And mine.

The drive from Cheyenne to Albin was long and quiet, as Danny slept restlessly, his breaths shallow, punctuated by the occasional whimper. I watched him, a captive audience to his silent suffering, as the quiet gnawed at me. The peaceful Wyoming landscape felt like a cruel mockery of the turmoil raging inside us both. I’d promised myself I’d be strong, that I’d handle this, that I’d fix him. But the weight of that promise, the crushing responsibility, felt like a physical burden.

By the time we reached Albin and the small house I rented, we were both exhausted. But the exhaustion was a different kind for each of us. His was physical, a consequence of his illness. Mine was the exhaustion of moral compromise. The shower offered no cleansing relief. The scent of the unfamiliar soap only amplified my self-loathing. We both needed food, but the thought of eating felt repulsive.

Dr. Walker’s arrival tomorrow felt not like a hope for a solution, but like a judgment day.

The truth was, I had already failed him, hadn’t I?

The next morning, the Wyoming sun shone brightly, but it did little to dispel the gloom that had settled over us. I felt a sense of dread as I prepared a meager breakfast, knowing that Dr. Walker’s arrival was imminent. Danny sat on the couch, his eyes vacant and unfocused, a ghost of the vibrant man he once was. I wanted to reach out and offer comfort, but the distance between us felt like an insurmountable chasm.

My hands trembled as I poured coffee, the clatter of the mug against the saucer breaking the oppressive silence. Danny flinched at the sound, and I saw the pain reflected in his eyes. I wanted to take it all back, to rewind time and prevent this suffering. But all I could do was stand there, feeling utterly helpless. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken words and emotions too raw to voice. I busied myself with trivial tasks, straightening chairs and wiping down counters that were already clean, anything to avoid facing the truth staring me down.

As the clock ticked closer to our appointment, my anxiety mounted. I knew that Dr. Walker’s arrival would force us to confront the reality of our situation. The weight of my promise to fix Danny felt like an anchor dragging me deeper into the abyss. I wanted to run, to escape the crushing responsibility, but there was nowhere to hide from the truth.

The sound of an engine pulling into the driveway broke the silence. Dr. Walker had arrived. I felt a surge of panic as the reality of our situation came crashing down on me. Danny seemed to sense it too, his eyes flickering toward the window, a spark of recognition in their depths.

I moved to the door, my legs feeling like lead, and opened it to greet the doctor. Her kind face and long hair pulled back in a long braid offered a small measure of comfort. Only she wasn’t alone.

“Hey, Dante,” Nav greeted warmly.

“I’m Dr. Walker,” the pretty woman said, her voice soft and reassuring. “But please, call me Haizley.”

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion as I looked at Nav. “Why are you here?”

“Because the giant oaf I am convinced is stalking me wouldn’t let me leave without an escort. Ignore him.”

Nav groaned. “I already told you, woman. None of the old ladies go anywhere without an escort.”

“Once again, I am not his old lady,” the pretty doctor huffed.

Stepping to the side, I let them both in as Danny remained seated on the couch, his gaze fixed on Nav. As Dr. Walker approached Danny, her eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and professional detachment. She set her bag down and turned to me.

“Why don’t you make us some tea?” she suggested. “I’d like to speak with Danny alone first.”

I wanted to protest, to stay by his side, but I knew she was right.

Nodding, I turned toward the kitchen, my heart heavy as I left them to their privacy, Nav following me.

The sound of the teakettle whistling broke the oppressive silence in the kitchen. As I poured the steaming water into the waiting mugs, I stole a glance towards the table.

Dr. Walker was leaning forward, her eyes locked with Danny’s. His face was a mask of conflicting emotions, his eyes darting between the doctor and the window, as if searching for an escape. My hands shook as I added honey to the tea, the sweet scent filling the air.

I wanted to believe that this would be the solution, that Dr. Walker held the key to unlocking Danny’s torment and setting him free.

“It’s going to be okay, Dante. The doc is good at what she does. You just need to give her time to do her thing.”

“Danny doesn’t have time. My phone has been blowing up since we left the city. I’ve had to turn it off because the notifications agitate him.”

“I will take care of that,” Nav said, sitting up. “Give me your phone.”

Doing as he said, I handed it over as I sat down.

Moments later, he slid my phone across the table and smiled. “There. I’ve redirected all incoming calls and texts to my phone. Let me handle the underworld while Sypher gets the help he needs.”

“Does King know we are here?”

“No one does.”

“How is Ellery?”

Nav chuckled. “Still pregnant. Ryder won’t leave her side. He’s driving her nuts.”

A heavy silence descended as Nav and I sat, the unspoken words pressing down on us like a physical weight. The tea steamed untouched in front of us. The sweet scent of honey filled the air, but did little to mask the tension. I felt a surge of protectiveness towards Danny, my fragile man who had once been so full of life and who now sat pouring out his soul to a stranger. I wanted to be the one to fix him, to take away his pain, but I knew my limitations. The arrival of Dr. Walker, this kind-faced woman with her soft voice and compassionate eyes, offered a glimmer of hope. But it also forced me to confront my own failures and the realization that I couldn’t do this alone.

The sound of movement broke the silence in the other room. Dr. Walker emerged, her face composed, but her eyes held a depth of understanding. She gave a small, reassuring smile, and I felt a slight easing of the anxiety that had been coiled tight within me. Danny remained seated, his gaze downcast, his features unreadable. I wanted to rush to his side, to demand an instant solution from the doctor, but I forced myself to stay put, my throat tight with unshed words.

Dr. Walker’s eyes met mine, and I saw the unspoken communication pass between us. She understood my worry, my desperation, and my fear of failure. With a gentle nod, she indicated I should join them. My legs felt like lead as I pushed back my chair and moved towards them. The weight of my promise and my love for Danny felt like a physical burden, but I steeled myself, determined to face whatever came next together.