Page 45 of Irrevocably

People become inured to things, I’ve seen it happen. Small acts of violence eventually mean nothing, so they have to become larger, more extensive, more extreme in order to do their work.

I can’t say I’m not inured myself. You can’t exist in this world without losing pieces of your humanity, and I lost mine years ago. Still, I’m almost … concerned for her. I don’t like the thought of her trying to find new ways to hurt herself. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and she could do herself real damage. She might even find something, or someone, else to give her what she needs.

My whole body goes tight as that thought flickers through my head. She’s not mine, as I told myself many times, and I shouldn’t be feeling this way about her. Yet I’m angry at the idea of her going to someone else. She took my knife for a reason, and she left that camera in her bedroom for a reason, too. She didn’t give me that little show to demonstrate that she didn’t need me, but to prove she does.

So no, she won’t go to anyone else. Not when she wants me.

Doesn’t that make her yours?

I grit my teeth, watching as she goes around another shelf, disappearing from view, and I put down the book I’m holding and go after her.

It’s dangerous to want anything in my world. It’s like putting a gun into your enemy’s hand and telling them to shoot you with it. It’ll kill you, and if you’re the kind of stupid my father was, it’ll kill your entire family, too.

Keeping myself from wanting anything and needing nothing except the freedom Enzo promised me, has been the only control over my own life that I have, and now Astrid’s mere presence is threatening that. It should only be physical, this pull to her, but my concern for her pain and her scars make me suspect she’s got further under my skin than I thought.

I need to put distance between us.

I need to get that information from her and then never see her again.

Denial kicks inside me, the beast growling its displeasure, but I ignore it. This growing obsession with her has gone far enough, and it needs to end.

I watch for the next couple of hours, indulging myself since I’ve made my decision. Then when she finishes her shift, I follow her out to the quad. My plan for tonight was to track her to her car then get my information from her.

However, my plans are derailed when I discover that her enforcer friend, the Hellhound, is waiting in the quad for her.

She stops dead as soon as she sees him, and he quickly comes up to her, his expression serious. I linger in the shadows watching them, leashing my irritation at his interference. The Hound must have a lot to say since he’s there a good long while talking to her, while she stands quiet and still and tense.

I’m too far away to hear what they’re saying, but I wonder if it’s to do with him refusing to talk to her about the club’s business. That hurt her, I saw the expression on her face, and maybe he knows that.

After the Hound has said his piece, Astrid responds and they talk a bit more. Her body language has relaxed, which must mean they’re good with each other, at least for now, but then the Hound says something that makes Astrid laugh, and though I’ve heard her laugh before, that night by the bonfire, now every cell in my body freezes at the sound.

In Enzo’s house, no one laughs, except when he has the bosses around for one of his poker nights. It’s all about building alliances over cards and money and drinking fine whisky while smoking his favourite Cubans. There’s laughter then, though it’s all fake. It’s a performance, a show, but there’s nothing fake about Astrid’s laugh.

I don’t know why it’s hitting me so intensely when it didn’t before. Perhaps because before, I didn’t know her. I hadn’t kissed her, touched her, fucked her. I hadn’t felt her touch the scars on my back gently, lightly, as if she didn’t want to hurt me.

Hearing that laugh now … it’s a beautiful thing. Warm and bright, and it makes my chest ache for no good reason at all. I make people go white with fear, and scream and beg for their lives, and yet all I want tonight is to make Astrid Starling laugh so I can hear it again.

She’s smiling up at her friend, and again, it’s natural and warm, like sunshine. I want her to give that smile to me. I want it to be mine. I want her laughter to be mine, too. What would it be like to have that? To go to bed every night with a woman beside you who smiles at you the way she’s smiling at him right now. To have that be yours and only yours.

A growl gathers in my throat, and I have to force it back down as they make a move toward the parking lot.

I don’t know why I keep thinking these things when I know I can’t have them. When I know I shouldn’t have them. There’s only one thing I want, only one, and that’s freedom. I can’t forget that.

I tail them, keeping some distance, and he makes her laugh again as they walk over to where Astrid has parked her yellow Beetle. I pause in the shadows by a van as a hot feeling collects in my gut, burning like acid. I’ve never felt this before, so it takes me a few moments to realise it’s jealousy.

I’m jealous of her friend and how he makes her laugh, how he makes her smile, and it’s ludicrous. Why do I care? I fucked her once, that’s all, and while I’m having difficulty getting her out of my head, there’s nothing more to it than maybe a lingering physical attraction.

I detach myself. Make myself hard and clear and focused. Make myself Enzo’s ruthless enforcer. Get the information from her, that’s what I’m here for and that’s all. And if she doesn’t have it, I’ll drag her back home and use her to get it out of the chief. Their relationship may be problematic, but he’s her father. His instinct will be to protect his child.

Over by the car, the Hound takes a step closer to her and lifts a hand to cup her cheek. She doesn’t move. She keeps smiling up at him. But unexpectedly, he bends his head to kiss her, and I take an unconscious step toward them, my foot catching a can lying next to the wheel of the van. It rolls over the concrete, making a clanging sound, and I freeze.

Fuck. That’s a soldier’s mistake. A rookie’s error. I never make mistakes like that, not ever.

The noise draws their attention. Astrid looks sharply in my direction and so does the Hound, and it’s too late for me to retreat back into the shadows. They spot me, and immediately the Hound steps forward, putting himself in front of Astrid, scowling in my direction. “What the fuck do you want?” he demands.

Then Astrid makes it worse, by squinting in my direction and saying, “Lucien?”

This is a problem. A real fucking problem. The Hound has seen me and now he knows my name, and he’ll know immediately that I’m not one of her friends. He’s part of the same world I inhabit, and he’ll know a killer when he sees one.