Liv had a vibrancy to her that was completely infectious. I'd never known anyone like her. She was passionate and energetic, and she seemed to genuinely care about me for more than just my money. In retrospect, I could recognise more than a little youthful infatuation in our relationship, but at the time it felt like something deeper. A little voice in the back of my head constantly told me that I was leading her down a dangerous road, but I was too selfish to stop. I don't know why I was surprised when it blew up in my face. Even if her death was an accident, I still broke her heart, and I hated myself for that. I swore I'd never be responsible for that sort of pain again.
But now there was Sophia. If my attraction to Liv was the firm pull of a magnet, my attraction to Sophia was like gravity; unyielding and inescapable. Something about her just rendered me utterly powerless. From the moment I met her, I felt like I was trapped in a whirlpool, swimming in vain against the current as it gradually sucked me down. It scared me. It felt like only a matter of time before it drowned us both.
"Either way," I said, "I still put Sophia in danger. You're not going to try and absolve me of that one too are you?"
He sighed. "Just because you're involved doesn't make it your fault."
I wished I could believe that. He was just being a good friend, but no amount of support could fix this.
I gazed around at the roomful of men I'd given my life to. From the moment I joined the group, they'd been the world to me. Even when I was with Liv, I'd never considered a different path. "Do you ever regret all this?" I asked, my tone softening. "Because I have to say, right now, for the first time, I'm actually starting to doubt my choice."
He flashed a sympathetic smile. "I think we've all felt like that, at one time or another. This isn't an easy road, by any means. But you know how important it is."
I nodded, though it was more for him than me. Truth be told, I wasn't sure I knew what was important anymore. Nothing made sense now.
A few minutes later, everyone had arrived. We took our seats.
"So," said Ewan, "give me some good news." Although he wasn't in charge in any real sense, as the longest serving member, he ran the meetings. He was also the most visibly upset person in the room. Sunken eyes spoke of sleepless nights, and his hands roved restlessly across the table, as if just staying in motion might somehow speed things up. The two men we'd lost, Simon and Charlie, had been close friends of his.
Marcus, the youngest member of the group, grimaced. He was our point of contact for the investigation. "We don't know much more than yesterday, unfortunately. Our guys went over every inch of Simon's house, but it was the same as Charlie's. No signs of forced entry, security footage wiped. Whoever it was did one hell of a job."
"What about the autopsy?" asked Thomas.
"Still coming," replied Marcus. He glanced at Ewan. "He didn't go gently, though, I can tell you that much."
Ewan slammed his fist down on the table. "I'll make sure you don't go gently, you little shit."
"I don't mean to be disrespectful," replied Marcus, looking a little pale. "But it's important. This wasn't just about taking them out. Someone went to a lot of effort working them over, which means that, chances are, they wanted to know something."
"Were the two of them working on any projects together?" I asked. "Anything tying them together?"
But before Marcus could reply, Ewan cut in. "Well, look who has decided to rejoin us," he said, making a big show of looking surprised to see me. "Does that mean you're ready to focus on what's important again?"
"I'm sorry about my absence last night," I replied, trying to remain calm. "I had other things on my mind." He was right to be angry, and if I'd been in his position, I'd have reacted the same way. I had an obligation to these men, an obligation that couldn't just be cast aside on a whim. But the suggestion that anything was more important than finding Sophia made everything inside me tense.
"That's exactly my fucking point," the older man replied. "We've got a major crisis going on, and your head isn't in the game. It's busy burying itself between a pretty pair of thighs."
Thomas' hand flew out, firmly holding me in my chair. He knew me well. Rage poured through me. "If you keep talking like that," I said, my voice sharp enough to cut glass, "the group will be down another member before too long."
"Is that right?" Ewan asked. He didn't look even slightly perturbed. "You'd put her before one of your own? You're even further gone than I thought."
Guilt and anger seethed in my stomach. Ewan and I had never gotten along, and I knew most of his aggression was just frustration at the loss of his friends, but there was a tiny part of me that thought he might be right. Perhaps my priorities really had changed. "Why do you care so much what I do?"
He laughed. "You flatter yourself. Honestly, Sebastian, I don't give two shits what you do. But what I do care about is you using Alpha resources to rescue your girlfriend when they could be out there finding the bastards that did Simon and Charlie in."
I opened my mouth, unsure exactly what I was going to say, but Thomas jumped in ahead of me. "You still don't think there's a connection there, Ewan? The people that took Sophia were organised, efficient, and clearly backed by some serious money. Exactly the sort of operation that might have been able to take out our guys."
Ewan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "That doesn't prove anything."
"That's true," Thomas said, "but it is a pretty big coincidence, and I, personally, don't care much for coincidences. In any case, we have very little idea what's going on here yet. Let's not lose our heads until we know more."
Ewan seethed in his chair for a few moments. "Maybe you're right. Maybe. But you want to hear what I know already? I know that the group is under attack, and yet there's a civilian girl walking around in our headquarters, seeing everything, overhearing God knows what." He turned his gaze to me and raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, as if to say, 'Or being told God knows what.'
"Where do you want her to go?" I asked, desperation creeping into my voice. "You know the kinds of people we deal with. Sending her back out there may well be a death sentence."