ℤ𝕒𝕟𝕖
Kami has a point. I really have to stop breaking shit.
I scrape out the last of the remaining bits of dried mortar from the missing chunk of our living room wall. Next time I punch a hole in the wall, I'm aiming for an area that's easier to fix.
I bring in the bucket of mixed cement, slip a pair of work gloves on, and use a trowel to apply a thin layer to the space where the new bricks will go. My phone buzzes on the coffee table, but I can't exactly answer it with my hands covered in blobs of grey sludge.
After the new bricks are placed, I pull off the work gloves and take a look at my phone.
The screen says: New Voicemail - Ava.
I hit play on the voicemail and put it on speaker so I can listen to her message while I clean up.
"Hey, um... so I'm coming home from the café and I'm in a bit of a tricky situation," her voice says through the speaker.
I immediately freeze upon hearing the shaky, apprehensive tone in her voice.
"I'm stuck in the alley behind Café Allegra and that guy from the bookstore is here..."
My palms clench and a cold sweat washes over me. In moments like this, my heart usually pounds, but instead, it feels like it has just stopped.
I grab my phone and keys before heading out at lightning speed.
"And I can't get back into the café so um... could you come get me?" her message continues.
I opt for the fire escape over the elevator, knowing that I can make better time on foot. The fire escape rattles and shakes as I race to the bottom, the steel reverberating with each step. In an instant, I find myself in my car, speeding out of the garage.
My mind attempts to calculate how long it will take me to reach Ava. Café Allegra is one of a few she frequents for business meetings or when she needs to get out of the house. It's about fifteen minutes away, but I think I can make it less than ten if I double the speed limit and completely disregard traffic rules.
I attempt to call Ava back while driving, but instead of the ringing I expect, her voicemail picks up immediately.
Fuck.
I try again, but again it goes straight to voicemail.
FUCK.
I can't help but feel responsible. If I hadn't been moping around the house like a bloody arsehole over this shit with Kieran, she wouldn't have felt like she needed to work out of the café. Sure, she didn't say that was the reason, but I'm sure it didn't help.
I watch the time tick forward another minute as I blow through a stoplight, leaving a chorus of angry horns in my wake.
My stomach drops and I feel an intense fear overtake me.
Something is wrong. Ava is in trouble.
I look at the clock. It's been a few minutes since Ava's call, and I'm still at least five minutes away.
Another thought hits me, and it's one that turns my stomach.
There is one other option.
Fuck.
I pick up my phone and call the only number I can think of.
"Oh, so you're talking to me again?" Kieran's voice says through the speaker.
He sounds truly baffled as to why I've called him after our less-than-amiable last encounter.
"Kieran," I say sharply. "It's Ava, she's in trouble."
"What?" his voice says quietly.
"She called me, she's in the alley behind Café Allegra. She ran into that guy who attacked her. I know you're close. Please, she's not answering her phone."
There's no response but the soft background sounds of a crowded bar, as if he's debating helping me after everything that happened between us.
"Bloody hell, Kieran, I know we have our issues but if you ever cared for me or for Ava—please—she's in trouble."
He still doesn't respond and I bring my hand down hard onto my dashboard, creating another large indentation.
"Fuck!" I curse, whipping the phone into the back seat.
I feel a sharp, stinging pain on my hand, then again on my cheek.
A mix of rage and fear rises in my chest. The terror and fury in me merge into a remarkable clarity. A black cloud fills the edges of my vision until I see nothing but a small circle directly ahead of me and I press the gas pedal hard into the floor.
𝔸𝕧𝕒
I see the door open and Zane's familiar silhouette emerges from the car, not even bothering to close the door behind him. He appears in front of me with a motion so sudden I'm pretty sure I heard the sound barrier break.
He's out of breath and disheveled, his eyes ablaze.
"Are you okay?" he asks, holding my face delicately in his palms as he investigates the scrape on my cheek.
"I'm fine," I say.
"You're bleeding," he says as his face turns stern and cold.
He scans the scene before him. The creep is slumped against the wall about ten feet behind me. Kieran leans against the opposite wall with his arms folded across his chest and one ankle crossed over the other. Just to his side is the unconscious—hopefully not dead—body of the creep's friend.
"Hey man, you gotta help me," the creep whimpers, begging Zane for help.
If only he knew just how much he was barking up the wrong tree here.
Zane takes a few steps toward him. This was far beyond his typical reactive rage—this was cold, calculated, sinister. This isn't the hot-burning fury of an enraged animal. This is a time bomb: patient, quiet, deadly.
"This oughta be good," Kieran says with a mischievous smile, glancing between Zane and the creep.
"This psycho and this bitch fucking attacked me," the creep says as Zane steps closer. "There's something wrong with him! I think he's on PCP; his eyes are crazy!"
"Bro," Kieran says to the creep with a small chuckle. "You do realize that I'm Good Cop in this situation, right?"
The creep grips the side of his ribcage as he sits up further against the wall, groaning in pain while Zane looms over him.
"I think I have a broken rib," he moans.
"Only one?" Zane says, throwing a devious glare in Kieran's direction.
With a fast yet disturbingly-controlled motion, Zane's foot collides with the man's chest. He folds over with a grotesque crunch that I can only imagine is the sound of several more ribs cracking.
I gasp as Kieran bursts into laughter.
"Okay, when you're not on the receiving end of Zane's Hulk-out rage," he says, "it can be pretty entertaining."
It's somewhat invigorating to see the man who attacked me and Jen get his just desserts, but the actual violence of it is a little nauseating. I step between Zane and the man now wailing on the ground. He doesn't deserve to make himself into any more of a monster in his own eyes.
"I know he's a dick, but he's not worth it," I say. "Let's go home."
Zane's eyes meet mine with only a glimmer of recognition. He seems to be battling internally over whether to kill the man or not. He nods and gently moves me aside, kneeling to speak to the man face to face.
"You see this woman right here?" he says, pointing to me. "The woman you attacked for no reason other than your own dodgy ideology?"
"You're all fucking nuts ma-" the creep says, cut off by Zane's hand to his throat.
"This woman is the reason you're alive. This woman is the reason I'm not strangling you with your own intestines right now. She's the reason you don't look like a bloody Picasso painting right now. So the next time you think it's a good idea to attack someone weaker than you, I want you to remember that you need good people like her. Someone to tell a person like me not to rearrange your bloody body parts."
The man struggles against Zane's grip. He might as well be fighting against a god, because Zane remains perfectly still.
"Now you're going to go to the police station," Zane continues. "You're gonna tell them that you tried to assault a woman. You're gonna admit everything illegal you've ever done. And if they don't lock you up right away you're going to go up to every cop in that place and tell them to fuck themselves until somebody arrests you."
The man nods and Zane releases his neck.
"Now get the fuck out of my sight," he growls.
The man takes off running, limping and holding his side as he does. He stumbles away until he's out of view.
"Are you really okay?" Zane asks me, his eyes fading in intensity as he pulls me in for a hug.
"Yeah," I say.
Sure, I'm dizzy and I feel like crap, but I didn't get murdered in a dark alley so I'm counting that as okay.
Zane pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head.
"Thank you," he says, looking over to Kieran.
Kieran's face suddenly becomes more serious.
"I didn't do it for you," Kieran says, giving me a nod.
"Is he...?" I ask, pointing to the blond man's collapsed body.
"He'll be fine," Kieran says. "I just fed off him enough to knock him out."
I nod. Apparently these are just the kinds of things I accept in conversations now.
My life is so weird.
"So does this mean you're over your little shit fit?" Kieran asks Zane with a smile.
I swear Kieran has a death wish or something.
"We're never gonna be good, mate," Zane says.
"Oh my god, really?" Kieran asks. "You're such a drama queen!"
"Are you serious?" Zane asks, breaking away and stepping toward Kieran. "You assaulted my girlfriend, my marked mate. You're bloody lucky I left you with all your limbs, you sick fuck."
"Oh please," Kieran says with an eye roll. "Kissing someone counts as assault now?"
"Bollocks! Did you forget that we're bonded by the mark? I could feel everything. I know exactly what you did."
"Wait, what?" he asks. His brows furrow and his lips part slightly.
"You didn't realize I would be able to feel it?" Zane asks, his voice laced with animosity. "Of course you didn't."
"Wait, hold on, that doesn't make any sense..." Kieran mumbles.
I see Zane's eyes glowing brighter by the moment, so I pull him toward the car before he does or says something he'll regret.
"Zane, babe," I say softly. "Let's go."
"Something is wrong," Kieran says, his face contorted in confusion. "None of this makes any sense."
"The only thing that's wrong is that I ever trusted you in the first place," Zane shouts. I continue to pull him back to the car until we both step in and he slams the door. I plug my phone into his car charger as he starts the engine.
As we drive away, I send a text to Kieran.
Me: Thank you for tonight. Zane needs to calm down. We'll talk soon, ok?