Violence (Antihero Inferno Book 3)

by Lily White

  “You too? I came here to get away from that crap.”

  “You came here to pick up your bike,” he counters as he wipes the grease from his hands on a mechanic’s rag. “And I’m taking the opportunity to corner your ass and ask what’s going on with Emily.”

  Shane’s eyes lock to mine, his brow arching in question.

  “Nothing anymore. Damon and I both agreed it’s done, so you can save whatever it is you were planning to say.”

  Laughing at that, he shakes his head and tips his chin as Priest comes ambling over.

  Slapping his hand down on my shoulder, Priest gives me a crooked smile, his hair tied back at the nape of his neck and his blue coveralls smeared with fuck knows what.

  “I highly doubt it’s actually done,” Shane grumbles.

  “What’s done?”

  Priest glances between us after asking his question, but something in our expressions must answer it before we say the first word.

  “Oh, that crap with you and your brother over the same girl? It’s about time you ended it.”

  “He hasn’t ended it,” Shane says.

  My head snaps his direction.

  “What the fuck? Are you Miss Cleo now? Where’s your crystal ball, jackass? Would you like to read my palm next?”

  “I’m just stating the obvious.”

  Like hell he is.

  “Damon and I just had this conversation before I came over here.”

  “So what did you do to them at the cabin? Because from what I heard, you’re acting like a complete dick lately.”

  Son of a bitch. I’m going to lose my patience with this entire situation soon.

  I spend the next fifteen minutes explaining what happened at the cabin, the fight I had with Emily and the fight I had with Damon.

  By the time I’m done, both of them are leaning against a wall facing me, their mouths quirked as if something is funny.

  “What?” I ask.

  Priest just shakes his head and chuckles, while Shane stares at me like I’m an idiot.

  “Nothing,” Priest answers, “it’s just that if anybody deserves an award for protecting the girl, it’s your brother. Normally, you’re not this dense, Ezra. So that woman must have you seriously fucked up in the head.”

  “What did I miss?”

  Priest laughs again and glances at Shane. “Do you want to tell him?”

  “Tell me what?”

  I’m about to pop both of them in the jaw for the looks on their faces. Just two quick jabs to get my point across. No, it wouldn’t make this conversation move along faster, but it’ll make me feel better.

  Shane pinches the skin between his eyes then rubs his hand over his head.

  “Damon didn’t say that to agree with you about ending things. He said it to keep you away from Emily.”

  I laugh at that.

  “For what?”

  “So you stop treating her like shit, apparently,” Priest answers. “Damn, man, you have it bad if that’s the shit you’re pulling.”

  I still in place, mostly ignoring Priest’s outburst to lock eyes with Shane. He simply nods and lifts his brows in agreement.

  “I’m not the problem-“

  “Yeah, you are,” Shane argues. “Hate to break it to you, but Damon’s right to keep you away from her.”

  He says that like he knows everything. And since I’m tired of being smacked down for all of this crap, I blow out a breath and think fuck it.

  “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew the truth of what’s going on.”

  “Then tell me what’s going on.”

  Damn it.

  “Only if you promise to keep it to yourself until I figure it out. I don’t want this getting back to Tanner or Gabe. I especially don’t need Damon finding out.”

  Another lift of his brows.

  “Emily has been talking to William.”

  Shane stills in place, his expression hard, his eyes assessing. With one blink, he wipes away his initial concern and asks, “Did she tell you that?”

  “No, I saw her at his house.”

  “And what were you doing at his house?”

  My jaw clenches tight.

  “Just driving by.”

  I don’t like the expression on Shane’s face. He’s obviously pissed, whether at me or Emily, I don’t know. But now I’m worried he’ll run this information straight to Tanner.

  “Did you ask her why she was there?”

  “Of course, I asked her,” I bark. “She told me she was trying to get information out of him about what was happening on the weekends we were dragged away. She was annoyed I wouldn’t tell her.”

  That seems to appease him, his shoulders relaxing.

  “So then what’s the problem?”

  “She’s going behind my back, and I don’t believe her.”

  Quickly glancing at Priest, Shane purses his lips, scratching his jaw.

  “Then stay away from her. I agree with Damon. You’re going to end up hating yourself for what you’re doing to her eventually.”

  “I’m not doing anything-“

  “Yeah, you are,” Priest argues. “And when you give yourself a second to think about it, you’ll see that you’re the asshole in this situation.”

  I open my mouth to argue with that, but both Shane’s and my phone buzz. Pulling mine out, I curse under my breath.

  Another family meeting, this one at Gabe’s.

  “What’s going on this time?”

  Shane shakes his head. “It probably has something to do with Ivy. At least it will keep you busy tonight and away from Emily.”

  My jaw tics as I side-eye him.

  “The fuck ever. I don’t hear any of you bitching out Tanner or Gabe about what they’ve been doing to Luca and Ivy. Everybody is apparently of the opinion that I’m the bad guy.”

  “Because you are,” Shane says as he pushes away from the wall. Slapping his hand against my shoulder, he grins. “But it’s fine. You’ve always been a pain in the ass and the bad guy. One of these days you’ll pull your head out of your ass and see it.”

  All of them.

  I’m going to punch all of them if they don’t shut their yapping mouths.

  Shane must know what I’m thinking because he only smiles and sighs.

  “It is what it is, Ezra. I’m glad you and Damon have agreed to avoid Emily. Just make like Frozen and let it go.”

  “Maybe if you put on a pretty blue dress and tell me that again while singing and dancing, I’ll think about it. Also, let me record that shit so I can use it against you later when you’re bent out of shape over a woman.”

  “Won’t happen,” he says with a wink. “I’m not a dumbass like the rest of you.”

  Tilting his head at my bike, he tosses the mechanic’s rag down.

  “Take the bike to Gabe’s and leave your Jeep here. Let me know if there are any problems with it.”

  “Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

  With that conversation over, I say goodbye to Priest and walk the bike out of the garage. Once outside, I straddle it and pull my helmet on.

  I’m irritated as hell that nobody can see this situation from my perspective, and as I haul ass out of the parking lot, I weave through traffic wanting nothing more than to hit an open road and take off.

  Still, as I get more annoyed with the constant stop and go of the cars in front of me, I can’t help but clench my jaw at the thought that Damon had to protect Emily from me, that the consensus has me pegged as an abusive jerk.

  Just like Emily said at the cabin.

  Just like William made me.

  Kicking into a higher gear and weaving around the cars, I ignore the pissed off honks, and drive up the shoulder of the road to break free of the traffic jam.

  I finally make it to a clear road, open up the engine and lean down to go as fast as I can.

  Fuck them all if that’s what they think.

  And fuck the whisper inside my head that’s agreeing with them.

>   Emily

  It took me the rest of the day after being dropped off to calm down.

  Ezra is running me in circles, and while I want to hate him for it, I realize he’s running himself in the same damn circles.

  He’s like a car with the wheel stuck in one direction, or more aptly, a rower with one oar.

  It’s what he’s lacking in equipment that makes it impossible for him to see what he’s doing to everybody around him. To realize what he’s doing to me. To care what he’s doing to us.

  Instead, he just spins and spins in a constant circle.

  So do I blame the rower, or do I blame the circumstances that stripped him of the second oar?

  It was that question that finally calmed me down enough that I could think clearly. My anger was only making it easier for Ezra to drag me onto his battlefield, when I should have used my strength to end the battle entirely.

  That was my fault.

  My dereliction of duty.

  My mistake for thinking I could take on the beast and fight the war his way.

  It’s why I need to walk away from the situation entirely.

  He’ll continue dragging me down and tearing me up, his form of violence far more insidious than anybody realizes.

  The simple fact is that Ezra’s not only fighting everyone around him, he is also fighting himself, and that’s a battle he’ll never win, not until he can lay down his sword and accept that he’s been defeated.

  William defeated him.

  The abuse defeated him.

  Not being able to protect his brother defeated him.

  And even though he can walk away and learn to rebuild, he can’t forgive himself the defeat.

  Violence, or destruction, is the first oar.

  And forgiveness, or the ability to make things whole, is the one he doesn’t have.

  So we circle, and we spiral, and we fall.

  The long, deep, dark hole is never-ending.

  I was smart to walk away after high school, but I can’t say I made the decision for purely noble reasons. And I certainly didn’t go about it the right way.

  I betrayed the twins instead.

  A lot of what I did can be blamed on immaturity...and cowardice. I was looking for the easy way out, a way to get the twins to walk away from me so I didn’t carry the guilt of the decision. It was selfish of me, and not well thought out.

  One video caused it all. One sex tape. Proof that I was not only fucking both twins, but at the same time. It had been meant for fun, a joke that we’d keep it for when they left for college and missed each other.

  I made sure it got in Hillary Cornish’s hands, knowing she’d spread it all over school out of jealousy and hate.

  Unfortunately, what I didn’t expect was that she’d bring Paul Rollings into it, and that’s when everything went to hell.

  I know.

  Horrible idea.

  Very poorly thought out.

  But I was desperate and hurting...and inexperienced.

  I thought if the video got out, my parents would, without doubt, hear about it, and I could blame lockdown on not being able to see or talk to them. That, or the twins would choose to leave on their own for fear of getting me into more trouble.

  Unfortunately, that’s not how it happened.

  I should have remembered just how protective they are.

  Just how angry.

  Just how violent.

  What’s sad is I already walked away from them once for their tendency to handle problems with their fists first. If it wasn’t for Ivy convincing me to give them another chance, the incident with the video would never have happened. I knew how they were, yet I’d taken that route regardless.

  The scar on my shoulder has always been a reminder. And while it healed over the course of several months, I’d suffered the constant heartbreak of a ringing phone.

  Needless to say, after the video got out and I became the biggest piece of gossip in the last week of school, rumors whispered about which student was spreading it around. Eventually, Paul was named.

  I didn’t know that part since nobody really told me anything. I certainly didn’t think a party at Kevin Landry’s house was where it would all blow up in my face.

  That night was already rough. Ivy sunk Gabriel’s car in the pool as her final stunt before the Inferno left for college.

  Following that, everybody was wired or on edge. It was a few hours later that Paul showed up, the twins spotting him almost immediately.

  They attacked before I knew what was going on, hurting him so badly that I felt the need to step in.

  I ended up being shoved back so hard by Ezra that I fell through a window, the shattering glass tearing my shoulder open while other students were calling the police.

  After the fight stopped, I admitted what I’d done. Partly because I was angry, but mostly from guilt.

  The expressions on the twins’ faces haunted me. The betrayal in their eyes, the confusion as to why I would do something so horrible.

  Damon and Ezra were arrested that night, and Paul and I were taken to the hospital. I was only there for several hours to have stitches while Paul was there for over two weeks.

  I didn’t speak to either of the twins after that night.

  Not until the engagement party.

  Which is why Ezra had to touch the scar on my shoulder when he first saw it.

  It was the first time he could kiss that injury since the night it occurred.

  The first time he could return the favor for all the injuries I kissed on his body, silently begging for them to heal.

  And now, here we are.

  Right back in the same place.

  With the same decision needed to be made.

  And the same heartbreak.

  The circle is complete. Only this time I have to break things off right.

  When I hear the distinctive sound of a motorcycle outside, I know the opportunity to say goodbye the right way has arrived. Not that I invited it, but Ezra doesn’t always wait for permission.

  He certainly didn’t ask for permission the first night he stole my heart.

  I have to be careful, though. Ezra won’t let go easily, and like the beast he is, he’ll try to drag me onto that battlefield again. I have to be strong enough to resist.

  Without bothering for him to knock, I walk outside and watch as he turns off his bike and leans back to pull off his helmet.

  He doesn’t move, and I lean a shoulder against the doorway, both of us staring at each other with our own plans of where to go from here.

  Eventually, he nudges his chin and crooks a finger to silently call me over.

  Sighing, I push away from the front door, close it, and go to him because the simple truth is that I love this man regardless of how obstinate and frustrating he is.

  The second his amber stare traps mine, my body buzzes with the need I always feel for him, but beneath that, there is a cold vein of loss.

  I’m losing him.

  For good this time.

  It makes me desperate to hold on, to step onto that battlefield, to feed the beast.

  But I can’t.

  To do so would only prevent him from finding the tools he needs to grow beyond what he’s become.

  To forgive him without making him face the truth would be to prevent him from learning to forgive himself.

  Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I hold strong and refuse to let them fall.

  Ezra doesn’t say a word, he just hands me his helmet and pats the back of his bike.

  I tilt my head in silent argument. He tilts his in return, a half grin tugging at his lips that reminds me of the look he used to give me in high school when all of this first started.

  It’s a look that reminds me I can fight all I want, but he’ll still lead me like a sinner into Hell far too easily.

  A look that dares me to lie and say I don’t want him.

  The same look that dragged me into shadowed spaces where I could kiss the parts of him
that were broken as we both fell in love with an impossible future.

  Rolling my eyes, I climb on the bike behind him and pull on the helmet. He turns to make sure the straps are cinched tight, knocking on the top of the helmet with his knuckles as a tease.

  Twisting to face forward, he starts the bike and then reaches back to tug me tighter against him, our thighs pressed together, my chest to his back. I wrap my arms around him and hold on tight, but not just for the ride.

  I’m holding on to this moment, my muscles burning from how hard I squeeze, his heat sinking beneath my clothes, the hard strength of his body filling me with the temporary relief of safety.

  I hold on even while knowing I’ll have to let go.

  The bike takes off, and within a few minutes we’re on a deserted road. I have no idea where he’s going. Not that I care. I’m simply enjoying the feel of him against me, my head laying against his broad shoulder as he weaves through turns and takes us far away from our problems with engagements and brothers and abuse and secrets.

  I feel like we’re running away just so we can pretend it’s possible to be together. If only for a few hours.

  Even when we both know it’s not.

  Still, I don’t mind holding onto him, or the silence, or the wind colliding with our bodies as the stars and moon light our path.

  Eventually, Ezra turns, and we weave a narrow road to reach a large lake, the shore sandy and the dark water undisturbed.

  It reminds me of the beach on the night he made me promise him an impossible future, our bodies warmed by a large bonfire.

  Except there are no flames licking the sky, no waves breaking that lend white noise to the quiet environment.

  All I feel is cold.

  Ezra lets me climb off the bike first, and before he stands, he tugs me to him by yanking on my shirt, his fingers working quickly to unstrap and pull the helmet from my head, a sad smile stretching his lips as he brushes the messy hair from my face.

  We’re an hour outside the city and still haven’t said the first word to each other.

  What is there to say?

  I love you?

  You destroy me?

  You are the only person who can put me back together?

  We say that to each other all the time. It’s in the way our eyes meet across the distance. In the way we gravitate to each other. In the way we kiss or fight or fuck. It’s in everything we’ve ever done and will ever do.