The Promise (Wolfe Creek Duet #2)

7

THEA

I turn over in Wes’ bed to see him still fast asleep. I’ve been up for a couple of hours already. That’s the norm these days. Sleep doesn’t bring the rest it used to, so what’s the point of even sleeping in? This morning I didn’t get a chance to try before a nightmare forced me awake. I don’t usually get those when I’m with the guys.

In any case, it’s always the same one.

I’m back in the cabin. I’m covered in Cole’s blood and making my escape. Just as I run out the door, a hand comes out of nowhere and grips my neck. I’m thrown to the ground and Cole is on top of me, choking the life out of me. Sometimes I wake up gasping as if it was actually happening.

Maybe it was the conversation I had with Sutton the other day. He said that I still loved Cole. I denied it, of course. How can I love someone who’s tormented me? Who’s still tormenting me?

But his explanation made sense, and when I thought about it, I knew he was right. I still love the person I thought he was. That’s who I fell for—even if that person wasn’t real. I might hate who he is now, however, I miss who he pretended to be.

I long for those early days when he was attentive and there for me when I needed him. I ache for the passion we had. I’m heartbroken that we won’t have another late night conversation or a moment where we bond over our hard childhoods.

Because deep down, I understood him. There was a connection there with the good parts of Cole. And I hate knowing there were good parts of him. Those parts might still be there, but I can’t risk that. He’s gone too far and any good that might exist isn’t enough to redeem him for what he’s done or could do.

Thinking of him at all is exhausting, so I push him from my mind and focus on the man next to me.

Watching Wes’ face subtly twitch in his sleep brings out a rare genuine smile from me. I want to reach out and touch him. I want to trace my fingers over the fine lines of the tattoos covering his arm. But I don’t want him to wake.

I gave myself today as the deadline to choose whether or not to stay in the pact. That decision will be final, so I’m taking my time to weigh the options. I’m still unsure. I’d never want to leave Damian, Wes or Sutton. I care for them enough to kill for them, however; I don’t know much about Adrian.

He’s been home for two days and our brief interactions haven’t been pleasant.

Admittedly, I didn’t like him before I met him. So when Damian introduced us, I didn’t exactly give him a friendly welcome.

Adrian looked pretty much as I expected. I mean, I didn’t exactly assign a hair or eye color to him, but I figured he’d be muscled and tattooed. What else is there to do in prison for ten years?

When I walked upstairs and came face to face with him, his wild raven hair hanging long over his forehead and brushing the nape of his neck caught my attention first. I could’ve sworn its color swallowed some of the light in the room.

Then our eyes locked.

I was staring into obsidian, endless and desolate. I didn’t know whether I should be terrified of the lifelessness in them or if I wanted to drag him into the sun to find any other hue that might be stifled in those dark orbs.

As his eyes traveled over me, assessing me as much as I was him. I took in his prominent Roman nose and angular jaw. Those harsh features should have made him look older, along with his time behind bars, but he looked oddly youthful. Sutton mentioned Adrian’s a few years younger, twenty-nine, I believe.

Looking lower, his nearly solid black neck tattoo made the angles of his jaw almost unnatural looking. Something about it made me uneasy. Peeking through the dark ink was the outline of a wolf lunging forward, teeth bared. The tattoo disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt.

Each of his arms were nearly blacked out, with only thin strips of his peach pink skin peeking through to carve out different designs. In my quick survey, I spotted roses along one arm and a phoenix rising from flames on the other. I didn’t want to be caught staring too long. No sense in making him think I was interested.

He stood only an inch or two shorter than Wes and nearly as wide. His size alone should have intimidated me. Instead, I crossed my arms and stood my ground.

Since then, I’ve run into him a few times around the house, mostly in the living room or kitchen. Thankfully, Damian put his brother in the room connected to his closet—the same one we used the night all of us slept together.

He’s stayed in there, mostly.

Adrian doesn’t say much when I do see him. It’s more in the way he scowls at me. And in the way he stares me down until one of us gives in and leaves the room. I return the attitude in eye rolls and scoffs at his childish behavior.

Deciding to stay in this house, a part of the pact, means willingly sleeping under the same roof as a murderer. I know I’m a hypocrite, but I also know the circumstances of what my boyfriends have done. No one will tell me Adrian’s situation, other than Damian assuring me his reasons were justified.

Anyone can justify their motives. That doesn’t mean they’re righteous or noble.

So… do I stay here and take my chances with Adrian, the devil I don’t know, with Damian, Sutton, and Wes at my side? Or do I risk going out on my own with Cole watching me and absolutely no protection from three men who would kill for me or die in the process?

I wish my decision boiled down to that. But it doesn’t. My choice comes down to if I can live without these men in my life or not. Because I would endure Adrian for them. I’m enduring Cole for them, whether they know it or not.

However, I wonder how much more I can bear.

“You’re sure?” Damian questions. “I don’t know, Thea.”

I knew it was a possibility that they wouldn’t agree to this, but I had to try. My terms are that I’ll remain in the pact. However, I won’t be sleeping with Adrian. I watch as Sutton, Wes, and Damian turn to stare at their brother. Identical looks of skepticism on their faces.

Damian looks back at me, pleading in his beautiful eyes. “Princess, that’s not fair to ask of Adrian. He’s gone without for a decade. To ask him to stay abstinent… that’s hard.”

“Pun intended,” Sutton jokes, a playful glint in his amber eyes. Then he gets serious again.

I figured that would be an issue. He probably wants to fuck every woman in sight now that he’s free. But the rules of the pact state that he has to be loyal to me. I could give two shits about his loyalty. I’m about to say as much when Adrian speaks up.

“Deal.”

All of us turn to look at him. “Adrian,” Wes warns. “You know that means you can’t go elsewhere.”

He shrugs. “I’ve gone ten years. I’ll be fine. There aren’t any rules against me rubbing one out, right?” Sutton shakes his head. “Then it’s settled. She stays and we don’t go anywhere near each other.”

I knew neither of us liked each other, but this went surprisingly well. I’m almost suspicious and my face must say as much.

Wes’ phone dings, drawing our attention, but Adrian pulls it back to himself.

“What? You expect every guy to be into you? You’re lucky you’ve got three under one roof who like you as much as they do.” A wide grin cuts across his face, giving him a sinister appearance as his dark eyes shine beneath locks of even darker hair.

“Dick,” I mutter under my breath.

“Princess,” he mocks, using Damian’s nickname against me, “no need to be quiet about it. Say it with your chest. Just like I’ll call you a bitch.”

My cheeks heat and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s called me a princess or a bitch. I glare at Damian, waiting for him to jump to my defense. He doesn’t.

“You called him a dick first. Respect begets respect.” Maybe I should have thought about adding more conditions to my staying in the pact, like Adrian not being allowed to speak to me.

I roll my eyes.

Leaning forward, my gaze locks with their youngest brother’s. “Little boys don’t have my respect, so call me a bitch all you want.”

Impossibly, his smile gets wider and it sends a shiver of fear down my spine. The devil I don’t know is right, Adrian’s going to be trouble.

DAMIAN

“Adrian.” My brother turns to look at me after standing to leave with everyone else after Thea’s decision to stay. “Let’s talk.”

He plops back down on the couch, his hair bouncing over his forehead. I’m reminded of the teenager I knew so well, despite him being nearly thirty now. He’s still that gangly, tall thirteen-year-old who’d follow us around, insisting on helping us get into trouble. While he might not be the same kid I once knew, in a lot of ways I know that he’s still following us around—looking for direction.

Adrian needs that more than ever. I’ll need to be his compass while he adjusts to life outside of prison. A weight sits on my chest thinking about taking on something else, but who else will do it? I can’t fail him.

He tucks his hair behind his ear, his finger running over the cigarette he has sitting there. I think he smokes when he’s feeling anxious. He wants to smoke now. “If this is about her—”

“It’s not,” I interrupt.

I have a feeling Thea and Adrian may not be as much of a problem as I originally thought. They want nothing to do with one another, however, I know all too well that hate can sometimes be a catalyst for other things.

That’s a problem for a different day.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the ring that’s been waiting for its rightful place for a decade. My gaze flicks from the rubies to Adrian’s onyx eyes. His throat bobs in realization. “This belongs to you.” I reach out, extending the symbol of our pact in my open palm. “You shouldn’t have been without it this long, but I’m proud this day’s come. I’m proud of you.”

Adrian’s fingers wrap around the jewelry, although he looks away as he takes it. “Thank you,” he mumbles as he slides it onto his ring finger.

There’s more I could say, however, I think what he needs right now is to move on to a less emotional topic. I’m happy to do that for him.

“We need to figure out what you want to do with your life. All of us have a career. I’ve invested in Sutton, Wes, and…” I stop myself from saying Cole’s name—it’s still a sore spot for me and I know that it’s a wound for Adrian. “I’ve helped everyone get their businesses started and I’m going to do the same for you. But we have to be smart about it. I expect a return on all of my investments.”

He tilts his head, looking at me cockily. “So, you want to help me start my business just to take a cut on all the hard work I do for the rest of my life?”

My eyes narrow as I study him, but his face gives me nearly nothing. “Yeah. That’s how investors know that their time, money, and effort will best pay off in the end. Why would I do this for nothing?” The words leave a bitter taste on my tongue.

I’m not materialistic per se. I like some nice things. A good pair of shoes. A nice suit. A decent car. But I’m not investing and taking a cut of the profits to be greedy. I’ve built up quite the nest egg for us. Between the money I have stashed and our investment properties, we are set for more than a few lifetimes. Adrian’s business would only add to that.

A smile cuts across his face. “Why? Maybe because I’ve spent the last ten years locked up. I don’t know, maybe you’d want to cut me some slack.” He crosses his arms, closing himself off, yet his grin remains. It’s entirely contradictory.

I sigh. Adrian’s always been able to get away with a lot in my book. He’s my baby brother. I rethink the terms of my offer.

"Why don’t we start with what you want to do? Is there anything that might interest you?” I watch him closely. My brother’s eyes drop. Is that shame? Embarrassment? I want to push, but I give him space to sort through his emotions.

Finally, he looks up at me. “There is one thing.” He keeps me eagerly waiting as he withholds his answer for a few moments. “I’ve been sketching a lot over the years.” This takes me by surprise. He doesn’t strike me as the artistic type. It’s not something he showed an interest in when he was younger. “Sketching turned into me tattooing the guys in there.” There… prison. “I’d like to pursue that.”

I’m not sure what to say. This wasn’t what I was expecting. Honestly, I thought I’d have to hand hold him through finding something and then push him to follow through. I smile, but not too much. I don’t want to make it a thing.

“Great. Do you have any sketches I can look at?” I ask, not too eagerly. “Gotta make sure this is worth the investment.” It’s not entirely a lie. Although, I’m more curious about what my brother draws and his skill level because I care about him and what he’s passionate about.

Adrian tells me to hold on and heads in the direction of my room, coming back a minute later with some papers in hand.

“I hope you don’t mind, I grabbed these from your printer,” he admits, holding up sheets of white copy paper. “It’s not great. I don’t have the tools to get the shading right. I found a pencil in the kitchen drawer and it wasn’t very sharp.”

He’s clutching the papers to his chest, like a boy holding a treasured stuffed animal. I push that image from my head. He doesn’t want or need any sympathy from me. Adrian wants respect. I hold out my hand, hoping he won’t back out of showing me his art.

Thankfully, he hands the papers over willingly, but turns his back to me, staring at the fireplace. For a moment, all I focus on are his clothes. It’s strange seeing him wearing my stuff. I hope the dozens of outfits I ordered for him arrive soon. I turn my attention to the papers.

The first drawing is a skull in the body of a blackbird. The details are incredible. If he could do this with some copy paper and a dull pencil… The next one is a smoking lighter with a face of a wolf etched on the front surface and the words Let It Burn beneath it. I flip to the last paper. It’s an image of a grim reaper holding a scythe in one hand and with the other, he’s holding the hand of a little boy.

“Adrian, these are amazing. I don’t know what I was exp—”

He turns and walks to me, grabbing the papers out of my hand. “You were expecting them to be shit.” I’m taken aback. That’s not how I meant for it to come across.

“Well… yes,” I admit. “But you’re talented. This is what you want for your future?”

I see a moment of hesitation. “Yeah, I guess,” he says casually, as if it doesn’t matter. But I see through the facade. This means something to him, so it means something to me.

“Sit down.” He doesn’t question me, although I can tell he wants to stay standing just because it’s the opposite of what I’ve told him to do. “I’ll make you a deal.” This catches his attention. “I will cover the expenses to buy a shop for you. I’ll take care of the renovations and all the work to get everything set up just the way you need it. We’ll hire other artists so that you don’t have to be there all the time. In return, you will apprentice under an experienced artist for one year. You’ll learn from a professional and you’ll learn the ins and outs of running a business. If you can show me for a full year that this is what you want, then it’s all yours. I will remove my name completely.”

A light sparks in his eyes that have always seemed unnaturally dark.

I warn, “Adrian, you have to show me that you want this. This can’t be me pushing you for a year to show up to work, to get clients, to run the business. You have to have that motivation or it won’t be yours.” I expect an eye roll or a sarcastic remark that I don’t have faith in him.

He jumps up and claps a hand on my shoulder. “You’re the best, D. Thank you.”

Something about the gesture and his genuine excitement warms my heart. This is why I do everything I do. This is why I take care of everyone. For the small chance that I can see a light like that in all of their eyes.