Objective (Bloodlines #2)(63)

The four-hour drive takes only three due to my driving like a maniac. Not that I’m in a rush to reach our destination but the silence in the car is maddening. I wanted to pull off the highway so many times. To shake, hell beat, sense into her. Her body language was stiff and hard the entire drive. You could almost watch her steeling herself over the course of our drive. It scares me, her determination to die. It’s as if she's been preparing for this the entire time, but why? I want to try harder to sway her, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how to reach her like this. I don’t know what’s driving her. She’s like a fortress, so well protected and guarded. One moment it feels like she’s all in. She’s mine. Then the next she’s hard and impenetrable. I can’t keep up and I have a sinking feeling that this new version of her is my fault somehow.



The car vibrates under us. She taps her foot uncontrollably on the floor with nerves. I’m not ready for this. How could I be? I need more time. Her hands are wrung tightly together in her lap.

“Ready?” I ask grimly.

“I can handle it, alright? I mean I'm here, aren't I? I'm here right now! I'm not leaving!” she snips. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel and I refuse to look at her. I watch from the corner of my eye as she runs her fingers through her hair to get it off her neck. I’m so hot suddenly as we pull into a space along the street in front of our old home. Sweat beads at the hairline on my neck. Once upon a time, it wasn’t at all weird to be in this apartment, but now it is all wrong, like being at a fair after all the rides and lights are shut down. I shut the engine off, fold out of the car and open her door as she unbuckles. This entire situation is psychotic.

“Let’s go,” I growl, yanking her by the arm. I’m not mad at her. I’m pissed beyond reason at the situation and I don’t know how to change it. She seems to have a death wish.

“Don’t touch me!” she growls back, tugging herself free. Her brow wears a faint sign of panic even though she’s trying to give off the impression that she's nothing but prepared and unaffected.

We make the trek together, up the stairs to what we used to call home. I walk a pace behind her. Her gait slows as she approaches the door. She turns to me, sadness in her eyes. “I’ll always love you, Cane.” Her words slice through me and the look she gives guts me. She’s ready. She’s accepted that this is the only outcome and she is willing to die for me. For me. I feel I’m already mourning the end of something that hasn’t come close to an end. I don’t have much time but I need to figure something out. Too much - everything - feels wrong. She said that even the most damaged heart can be mended once, and she makes me feel that, believe it.

Jimmy and Dave stand outside the door guarding it, or more accurately guarding the person inside. I don’t look either of them in the eye. I keep my focus on Magnolia. She turns to face them and I grip the back of her neck gently as they open the door and usher us in. Magnolia gasps at the sight. I hold mine in but even I didn't know what we were walking into. The living room looks just as it did the day she left. The hardwood floor still stained a deep red from my blood in the living room. Ezra is sitting on the couch, back to us, staring out the window. I haven't been here since that day either and I feel nauseous looking around. He’s kept everything just as it was.

“Tie her to the chair,” he gestures over his shoulder, not bothering to face us. I glance left and find a dining room chair. Next to it on the floor is rope. Briefly I close my eyes. Maybe when I open them everything will be different. By the time I snap my eyes open, Magnolia has seated herself. I plead with her through eye contact to put up some sort of fight, to give me a reason to act out. She does nothing though, and I silently curse her for giving up.

“Where is the pack?” Ezra demands, prowling to where she sits. I’m kneeling behind her, binding her hands to the chair at her back.

“Gone,” she whimpers, lip trembling.

“I know that’s a lie. Where. Is. The. Pack?” He backhands her, hard, sending her head lurching to the left. Blood oozes from her lip and I hide my cringe. I stand and move to the side. If he makes me watch this torture I am going to puke everywhere or do something even more stupid. Like kill him.

“I spent it all!” she says, defiantly lifting her chin. Why won't she just give it to him? He spins to me, disgust etched on his face.

“One task. Recover the backpack and take care of her. I know why you've been waiting so long. Why you haven't killed her. I think you're afraid that when it's over, your heart will still be broken. But the present is now, Cane. You need to take control. Make her a real memory, one that will never come back. Memories can be distorted. They're just an interpretation, Cane, they're not a record, and they're irrelevant if you have the facts. She killed you, or so she thought, then took my money and ran,” he growls at me. “Now take the bitch down once and for all, Cane,” Ezra snarls. I stand unmoving as he speaks. I will not be the one to lay a hand on her. My posture’s stiff, frozen, and my thoughts are drowning out his words. I need to think, fast. “I knew you couldn’t be objective. One toss of her pretty black hair and you’re a bumbling idiot. You always did think with the wrong head.” I clench my fists at his words but know better than to let my disdain show on my face. I’m still trying to figure out how the hell to get out of this situation. “Do you think you belong with her? Your legacy is with us. Family. You’re no better than I am. Do not forget that you come from a long line of scumbags. You’re just like me,” he snarls, and for a moment I’m swayed to believe him. I’ve done illegal things. Bad things. But Mags always wanted more for me. She encouraged me and believed I was worth more than that. “She was sweet,” he goes on, making my blood boil. “So innocent and into you. I always did want what I couldn’t have. You were so taken with her, I just had to find out what all the commotion was about,” he sneers. I don’t know what he’s talking about but my rage is growing with every word that comes out of his mouth.