“Sarah,” Sugar snapped. “Did you hear me?”

“What, uh… No.”

“What’s your plan? Sit on your ass and ponder all the ways he could’ve reacted better to his family being snatched?”

Maybe she shouldn’t squirrel money away for her kids’ therapy in the future. She should spend it now and secure her sanity, because it’d been tough on her. Sarah took pride in her self-sufficiency and a rock-solid foundation at home. Maybe that had been a lie she’d told herself, and she wasn’t really strong. Maybe she was weak and pathetic but had never realized it before.

Sarah shook her head. “My plan is to move on. To protect my kids. And never feel like this again.”

CHAPTER TWO

Brock opened his eyes to the same scene, different day. Maybe. He wasn’t sure and didn’t care. But he did know that, sooner or later, he’d have to eat. Having the shakes from alcohol withdrawal wasn’t a good enough excuse to ignore the warning bells in his head. He needed to eat, and if the food stayed down, then good. If not, well then, he’d given it the old college try.

Rolling up and dangling his legs off the bed, he gathered his bearings and glared at the empty granola bar wrappers. They littered the floor. On the dresser, an empty container of peanut butter sat abandoned. A knife he’d used way too many times sat on top of an empty sleeve of bread.

Screw this. He had to eat, and with a disgusted groan, he slid off the bed and made his way to the kitchen. With each step, his stomach swished, his gag reflex jumped into action, and his ears… were now hearing sounds. Imaginary voices? Great. A new low.

There were voices in his head.

His pathetic, downward spiral was taking the scenic route. Surely, this was cosmic retribution for all of the shady work he’d done in the past, however good his intentions might have been.

Using the wall to stay upright, he pinched his eyes closed to ignore the lights and hushed away the voices.

“It’s about time, Buttercup.”

It took more than a second to blink. He wasn’t sure if the men sitting at the table were really there.

“You need a goddamn shower.”

“Christ, we should’ve done this a week ago.”

Winters, Roman, and Rocco sat around his kitchen table, burgers in hands, and stared at him. The aroma of fast food made his mouth water and stomach turn simultaneously.

Brock had worked by their sides for years, and he’d abandoned them. Put their lives in danger. He’d done the worst thing a leader could do, and that was lie and lead them astray.

Why were they there?

They were Titan. He was a piece of shit, unworthy to be in the same room.

Winters kicked a chair out toward him. The loud scratching across the floor reverberated in his ears. “Sit your ass down. Before you fall and split your head.”