Callan
Silence.
Loneliness.
I’ve spent so long on my own, not needing or wanting a woman beside me, now that Madison is gone, all I can think of is her. The way her orange blossom perfume used to fill my senses. And how her smile used to crinkle her button nose. I thought I’d miss her body, taking her and fucking her, but that’s only one of the smaller things I miss.
It’s her affection, that gentle touch, and how much she used to make me feel. I knew when she kissed me it wasn’t because she had to. Not because she wanted something in return. No. She spent time with me because she cared.
Love.
Pain.
Loss.
I’ve been through it all in the months I’ve known her. At first, all I knew and felt was that agonizing confusion that comes with wanting to completely obliterate someone and finding your heart torn.
Killing came easy to me all my life. I didn’t need to think about it. I loved it. Reveling in the cool metal of my weapon. Watching blood drip from the flesh of my enemies, I was sated.
Until her.
It all changed when I tasted love.
I didn’t just bask in it, I fucking drowned myself in it. In her. I savored every drop, and with every sip, I became addicted. And all that shattered the moment I saw her lying on the bed, motionless, her body cold to the touch. I broke.
For the first time in my life.
I. Fucking. Broke.
A knock on the door sounds, and I know it’s not her. Oliver told me he’s on his way, and when I open the door, he’s standing there with a look of rage on his features.
“Callan, I need you to focus,” are the first words he tells me, and I know something is wrong. So very wrong, I feel it in my veins. “Hudson was the one who hurt Madison.” That’s what spurs me into action.
My jacket and keys along with my blade are in my grasp in seconds.
“Take me to the asshole, right the fuck now.”
The house we pull up to is larger than the Parker residence, and when the security strolls up to the driver’s window, he offers a curt nod at Oliver and opens the gates. As we edge our way up the driveway, my body is tense with anger rolling through me.
Hudson’s car is parked to the left of the house, but what shocks me is seeing Mr. Parker’s car there too. They’re clearly working together, and that makes me wonder if he hired the little asshole to hurt his own daughter.
“Are you going to tell me what happened at the hospital?” I question before we exit the car. Oliver’s gaze lands on me. I know he’s hiding something. It’s clear as day in his gray eyes. The silver glinting at secrets.
“Let’s go inside,” he says, ignoring my question.
Shoving the door open, I glare at him as we stalk toward the entrance. “If something happens to her . . .” I allow my words to trail off because I don’t think he’ll like what I have to say.
Before we have time to knock on the door, it flies open, and a man is racing toward me. The old fucker who’s been using his status rears back, but before his fist makes contact, I grip his wrist, spinning him on his heels. His arm twists around behind his back.
“If you ever, come at me like that again,” I hiss in his ear, “I won’t think twice about ending you.” It’s a warning.
“You fucking savage,” he bites out angrily. “My daughter is—”
“I think you’d be interested to learn my team’s findings,” Oliver tells him, stilling him for a moment, and I shove him away from me. The scene before me is of a man who has no fucking idea who’s actually hurt Madison.
“What are you talking about?” he questions. His angry glare penetrating through Oliver, who offers him a smirk.
The cool and calm Oliver doesn’t look fazed as he hands Magnus a manila folder. He steps closer, his expression deadly serious. “Why don’t you have a look at the results? There were fingerprints on the blade your daughter used.”
Magnus wrenches the folder open. He scans the documents, the paperwork that confirms the asshole who hurt Madison is Hudson, the man he trusted to marry her.
“Hudson?” he murmurs, shock evident in his tone.
As if he’s been summoned, the man who raped and broke my girlfriend, my woman, my future fucking wife, stalks out with a smirk on his face.
“O’Leary, I suppose you’ve heard about Madison. It’s sad—” His words spill from his mouth and into my veins, and he doesn’t get to finish his sentence. That’s when I see red. I see blood, and nothing can stop me from mauling the asshole. I pull my knife from my sheath, lunging at the piece of trash I’m about to take out. My fist grips his shirt, tearing the material from his body.
His fist comes out, hitting my jaw with a loud crunch. Pain sears me for a moment before I spin toward him, slamming him down on the pebbled driveway. I’m straddling him, my fist making contact with his face, again and again. I feel inhuman, and when I plunge the knife into his chest, bringing it up to his jaw, blood spurts from the cavity I’ve opened.
“This is for Madison,” I bite out with venom dripping from my tone.
Wrath.
Revenge.
Vengeance.
Hands are on me, and I don’t think when I pull the gun from my holster, aim and pull the trigger. The man behind me, Magnus Parker, falls to the ground, and Oliver’s movement is automatic.
“Callan, get in my car, drive to my apartment, and wait there for me.” His order is cool and collected, as anger simmers through me. “Now.”
I don’t argue. I don’t care about the man I shot. The asshole who’s in front of me is my focus. Security guards are at the scene, and my hands are drenched in crimson. I’m drowning in the blood of my enemy, just like old times.
I grab Oliver’s keys and slide into the driver’s seat of his Maserati. I take one last look at the scene on the driveway, knowing Oliver is going to sort it out. He’s going to do something to ensure I’m not sent to prison.
I don’t know what. But I’m thankful for him.
When my gaze lifts to the doorway, I see her. A ghost of the woman I love.
She’s not dead?
I blink quickly, but when I open my eyes again, she’s gone.
That’s what Hudson came out to tell us.
Madison Parker is dead.
And when the thought sinks in, I feel the agony of a million knives being plunged into my chest. And for the first time in my life . . . I cry.