“Then fucking take what she wants to give. I don’t see the problem here.”

“The problem is me! I’m fucked. I’ve done too much.”

“We’ve all done too much,” he shouted, banging on the steering wheel. “Every one of us has done shit we’d take back if we could. You’re just running away because you’re scared.” He jabbed his finger in my direction. “You’re scared because you know she can handle what you want to dish out. Even more, she wants it. But you’re scared of the responsibility.”

“Fuck yeah, I’m scared! I’m terrified I’ll hurt her. Every bone in my body wants to make her cry. I want her on her knees, chained to my damn bed not because I’m trying to keep her safe, but because that’s where she fucking belongs. That isn’t normal!”

“You,” he said, “have never been normal.”

I drew in a deep breath. “I can’t do it.” I gave Jax a pointed look. “I lost control with your uncle. I remember it all like it was yesterday. It was an accident, but what I did back there…” I gazed at the blood on my hands. The literal fucking blood. “I won’t risk her life.”

“You’d never hurt her.”

“Not willingly.”

“Okay then,” he said.

“Okay?” I raised an incredulous brow.

“I ain’t changing your mind about this, so why try?”

“Finally, something we agree on.”

“I still think you’re making a mistake. She’s gonna come undone when you leave, man.”

“You say you owe your life to me?”

Jax rubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah, I owe you.”

“Then make sure she stays in one fucking piece. Until she’s on her feet, watch her for me. Be there for her. You’re not the one who wants to fuck and strangle her.”

He glanced at me, slack-jawed.

“Jax, you’re the only one I trust.”

“What am I supposed to tell her?”

“The truth. The man she loves is dead.”

~VAGRANT: BOOK FOUR~

VAGRANT: BOOK FOUR

1. I'm Coming For You - Alex

1. I'M COMING FOR YOU - ALEX

“You must be one badass chick,” Leslie the tattoo artist said. “You didn’t flinch once through the whole thing.”

“Pain doesn’t bother me.” Not the kind you could see, anyway. The scars on the inside healed much slower than the welts from a cane or the cuts from a knife.

“Looks good,” she said, standing at my side in front of the mirror. Rafe’s name concealed the carving of Zach’s in scrawling black ink. The tattoo spanned a good portion of my belly in wispy tribal lines, butterflies in flight, and those four important letters. Having his name permanently inked on my skin made me feel close to him.

Even if he was a liar.

I love you. See you soon.