Page 204 of Nyx

An ache, a pain stronger than any physical discomfort I've felt before in my life, settles inside of me, clinging to my heart like a fist clamped around the very thing that gives me life.

Letting her go won't be easy, but I know it's necessary.

I don't know if it's the silence swarming around me, making me feel uncomfortable in my own skin, or if it's my need to lay eyes on her with this decision made that pulls me toward the shop’s door.

My steps seem unsteady, and twice I have to reach out and grab something to keep me from falling over. It's similar to the way I felt when I had to call 911 with trembling hands the night I killed my father. I had no idea what the outcome would be. I didn't know if I would end up in jail. The only thing I was sure of was that I had to do the right thing. Running wasn't an option because even with his blood on my hands, I still had integrity. I would own what I did and face whatever punishment the authorities deemed necessary.

It would be no different from what I'll face with Juliet.

After explaining the type of man that I am, and telling her about the monster who lives inside of me, always simmering right at the surface of nearly every action in my life, she'll want to get as far away from me as possible. I doubt she will argue that leaving her alone is the right choice.

I step outside of the shop, letting my eyes drift closed as I lift my face toward the night sky, pulling in a deep breath of fresh air, untainted by motorcycle fumes and the scent of oil and gas.

It restores something inside of me, my fortitude to see this through growing stronger with each inhale.

Opening my eyes as I turn toward the front entrance of the clubhouse, I scan the area, a habit that's less likely to be broken than the wavering strength I've tried to gather with the choice I've made.

Nothing seems out of place as I make my way across the parking lot until my eyes land on the empty space where Juliet's car had sat when I went into the shop earlier.

A franticness seeps inside of me as I hasten my steps, eyes still scanning over every other vehicle in the lot, a way to ensure that she hadn't moved her car and parked somewhere else. The idea was ridiculous, but my need to verify was stronger.

Her car was gone, one of the few vehicles parked out here among the sea of black SUVs.

My hands tremble as my steps quicken, fear wrapped in disbelief building inside me. Her being gone doesn't make sense. Not long ago she was inside, laughing and smiling with the others. What could've possibly happened to make her leave before seeking me out?

I pull open the front door of the clubhouse, eyes searching for her and coming up empty.

I don't know what I look like to others, but I must seem frantic enough for Max to approach me.

"Where is she?" I snap, loud enough that it draws the attention of almost everyone in the room.

Normally, I would feel some sort of way about having so many pairs of eyes on me, but in this moment nothing else matters but finding Juliet.

"She left," he says. "With Kayla. She told Recon at the gate that Kayla's daughter was ill."

"You just let her leave?" I growl, my hands curling into fists at my side.

"We can't stop them from leaving," Max says.

I pull my eyes from him and direct them over his shoulder, watching as Kincaid and Shadow approach.

Something in my gut tells me this isn't about a sick kid at all.

"Conference room," Kincaid says as he steps up to me.

There's a warning in his voice, but I'm in no position to argue. Without further details, I have no direction.

I turn and head in that direction, knowing Max and, at a minimum, Kincaid and Shadow are close behind.

I don't bother to sit at the table, knowing I won't be in this room very long.

Several other members step into the room before the conference room doors are pulled closed.

Max settles in behind his computer, fingers working over the keys as Kincaid heads to the front.

"What can you find?" Kincaid asks.

"Kayla Rowe has a four-year-old daughter named Aleah," Max says, his fingers still working. "I have no recent information from a hospital that a child by that name has been admitted."