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And the line goes dead.
“Rafe, hey…” Dylan is eyeing me as if I’ve grown a second head. “Be where? Where are you going and why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
Zane parks the truck in front of Armin’s building and turns, throwing an arm over the back of the seat. “Fucker, you’d better start talking. We aren’t going in unless you spill.”
Shit.
I chew on the inside of my cheek. Damn, I have to tell them. Meg was right. I can’t do this alone, and my dark slide this past week showed me just that.
Fuck, I mean, I’ve seen it with the guys, too. We all try to be strong and shit when things go haywire, but without each other, we’re weak. There’s a reason for packs. Lone wolves don’t survive for long.
I slump back in my seat. “Okay, fine. Christ.” I rake a hand through my hair. “It’s about the scum that killed my family.”
Silence twines around us like a rope, squeezing. Everyone’s staring at me with wide eyes.
“They never caught him,” Zane finally says. “Fuck, Rafe. What’s this about?”
“I think I might have found him.”
“What the hell?” Tyler mutters.
The guys share incredulous looks, and shit, they won’t like my story.
“I’ll tell you more. Later.” I rub my eyes. “Let’s get this over with, first, and I will.”
Zane glares, hesitates. Then he nods. “Fine. It’s a deal. You guys are witnesses in case he tries to wiggle his way out of this.”
“You’re an insufferable prick,” I mutter.
Zane blows me a kiss, and I give him the finger.
“Get a room, you two,” Dylan mutters, hopping out of the truck and slamming the door. “Co
me on.”
We make our way inside and ring the intercom to Armin’s place. He answers, I identify myself, and he lets us up.
His door is open when we arrive, and boy does he look surprised when we all stalk into his apartment.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he sputters. “You can’t just march in here. I—”
“We know what you did,” Zane says without preamble.
Armin’s hazel eyes narrow. “Know what?”
“That you never told Rafe that Damage Control is his. That you tried to take it from him. That you tricked him into signing a title transfer.”
Armin’s face turns red. “Get out of my house right now.”
Tyler steps in front of us, his powerful physique dwarfing Armin. “We thought you’d invite us for coffee. We are your nephew’s family.”
“He has no family.” Armin spits, hands flailing.
“Well, not you, of course.” Tyler cocks his head to the side. “You’re just a worthless piece of trash. But he does have a family, and you’re looking at it.”
“Get out!”
I step in front of Tyler. This is my fight, and although I appreciate their presence and their support, I need to do this.
