Page 119 of Lethal Attraction

Not a single tear shed for her. Not a single regret about my actions. My only regret is not getting here before Reed lost a finger…

I drop to my knees in front of him, my hands quick as they fumble with the restraints. Warmth tracks down my cheeks as I catch sight of his missing finger, guilt nearly swallowing me whole.

I did this to him.

I hurt him.

He could have died because of me.

“…Thalia!” Reed grabs my cheeks, his blood smearing across my skin as he forces me to look at him. “Fuck, you’re trembling. I’m okay, baby. Everything is okay.”

A sob rips from my throat as I shove a hand over my mouth. “Y-your finger!”

He chuckles despite everything, lifting his wounded hand. “One less finger isn’t going to stop anything. I can still do my job just fine.”

I take his wrist, choking on my cries. “I-I d-did this to y-you!”

“No,” he shakes his head quickly as he takes me in his arms and crushes me to him. “No, no, no. You didn’t do this to me, Thalia.”

But deep down, I know I did. Someone I should have been wary of got to him. How many more situations like this will it take before someone hurts him beyond repair? Someone like Brooks…

I tuck my head into Reed’s shoulder, muffling my cries as I breathe him in. Because I know in my heart this could be the last time I hold him like this.

Chapter thirty-five

Thalia

The afternoon sun is beginning to set over the horizon at the neutral point. It’s a field somewhere in Michigan with golden and brown crops that sprout up from the earth. The surrounding trees, oaks and maples, have brightly colored red and orange leaves that sway in the breeze as we wait silently.

Rowan is at the head of our group, his hands tucked together in front of him and a hard set to his jaw as he stares at the dirt road that will soon be habited. Atlas is to his right, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black tactical pants as he taps a boot in the fresh soil. Bailey is beside me, her arms crossed as we wait patiently.

I thought I would be more nervous to meet our grandfather, but all I can feel is…nothing. No sense of familiarity or respect. No hope that maybe he’ll look at us differently than our parents did. None of it.

He’s about as dead to me as the corpse in the back of Rowan’s truck is.

It’s customary to report when another branch loses a member. Since I finally ended things, Rowan made the call. The Western Branch’s leader’s only request? To see the body in person to determine if he wishes to proceed with his next course of action.

We all straighten the moment we hear two sets of tires flying across the gravel. The first truck is something old and beaten to shit with a rusted fender. The next is a sleek black car—something that screams old money. Both of them pull quickly into the field, stopping a few feet away from us before both drivers exit.

Brooks adjusts his sunglasses, shoving them over his head as he leaves his truck running in the distance. Next is…

The older man is dressed in a white button-down and fixes his expensive-looking tie as his eyes scan his surroundings with the same sharpness Crystal used to possess. His dark hair has thinned drastically over the years, creating a bald patch on the back of his head. The massive silver watch around his wrist glints as he slams his door closed and trudges across the field with a wide gait.

“Let’s get this over with,” he orders, his voice rough with age.

I scoff, shaking my head.

“Killer,” Brooks greets with a smirk.

“Choke and die,” I flip him off.

His face falls before he nods at the blonde beside me. “Bailey—”

“Traitor,” she cuts him off.

My grandfather lifts an unimpressed brow at me. “And who are you, little one?”

I cross my arms, cocking a hip. “Your worst nightmare.”