A calm has settled over me. A heavy, relaxed state of peace. I’m not afraid at all anymore. I know we can do this. I know we can have this baby. It won’t be easy. There will be times when I worry I’ve made the wrong decision, I’m sure, especially when it comes to having to take a step back from work, even if it’s just for a little while, but in the long run things are going to be just fine.
Now, thank god, the panic and the fear that has been hanging over me like a dark cloud for the past few days has gone. I don’t know how I would have borne it on top of the bright, stinging ache I carry in my heart for Millie and for Mason right now. It would be too, too much.
I must fall asleep. When I wake, it feels like hours have passed. Zeth’s crouched by the side of my chair, and he’s slowly stroking his hand up and down my arm. “Hey,” he whispers. He smells strange, like burned plastic or singed hair or something. A dark, sooty line runs across his cheekbone and down, ending just above his jawbone.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“Fire. The warehouse is gone,” he says. “I stood there and watched it burn until the flames went out. An empty shell…that’s all that’s left.”
“Holy shit. Are you okay? No one was inside?”
He shakes his head. “I’m fine. No one was inside.”
I just stare at him, trying to figure out what this news means. Zeth watches me with unreadable eyes, his mouth drawn into a tight line. He’s furious, I can feel the anger sizzling off him, but I can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking. “This wasn’t an accident?” I ask.
“No. The Italians.”
My relief from earlier this afternoon disintegrates. This is bad news. Really fucking bad news. Why is this happening now? Of all the times for things to blow up in our faces, now is the worst possible time. Only a matter of mere hours have passed since I talked myself into thinking having a child would be an okay thing for us. More than okay; it would be a good thing. And now I see that familiar spark of darkness in Zeth, and everything I told myself is turning out to be a lie.
“Sloane…” Zeth takes my hand in his and brings it to his mouth, pressing the back of my hand against his lips and leaving it there. He seems to be thinking. Then, he says, “I have to go to New York.”
My stomach plummets like a stone cast into deep water. “Why?”
“You know why. I can’t let this go unanswered.” He growls, his voice filled with fury. “If I don’t do something about them setting the warehouse on fire, they’re gonna set this place on fire next. Probably while we’re in our fucking beds. I won’t let that happen. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. Ever. I’ll kill every single last one of those motherfuckers before they lay so much as a finger on you. That means I have to go to New York.”
“Let’s just leave Seattle. Let’s…let’s go to New Mexico. Stay with Rebel and Alexis.” I’m scrambling, desperately trying to reason him out of this. He can’t go to New York. If he does, he probably won’t be coming back, and then what? The mafia isn’t just one guy surrounded by an entourage of minions who can’t think for themselves. These guys have a hierarchy. If Zeth kills the head of the family that is challenging him right now, the problem doesn’t go away. Someone else picks up the reins, and they’ll be seeking revenge as well as trying to assert their power. Zeth will be torn to pieces, and I’ll be alone here in Seattle, stranded, maybe in danger too, and I won’t have a clue how to live without him. It looks like my suggestion has pissed him off though, because his expression is stormy, his shoulders pulled back.
“I don’t run from fights, Sloane. And I sure as shit don’t run to Rebel. You’re barely speaking to your sister. You’d fucking hate it in New Mexico.”
“Not as much as I’d hate it if you were dead.”
He rocks back onto his heels, his eyebrows rising slowly. “You think they’d kill me? What makes you think I wouldn’t destroy all of them for what they’ve done?”
“You could. You might, but what if you don’t? If you die, Zeth, I die.”
This stops him in his tracks for a moment. “If they did kill me, Michael would protect you,” he whispers. “You wouldn’t die.”
“I’d die because I wouldn’t want to live anymore, you asshole! My life would be over without you in it. I couldn’t—I can’t even—” Tears have filled my eyes, clouding my vision. I can barely see him anymore. It’s fortunate because I don’t want to look at him. I want to screw my eyes shut and pretend this isn’t happening. Not today. Not with Mason upstairs, broken and in pieces, and the rest of the world falling down around our ears.
Zeth makes a growling sound, deep in his chest. It’s so deep, filled with such frustration, that I can practically feel it vibrating through the chair. “You know me, angry girl. I can’t just look the other way.”