by S. Nelson
At first, when we walked back over toward Dutch, I thought he died, but when I saw the faint expansion of his chest… again, I smiled.
“Looks like you were tellin’ the truth,” Marek said, looking from Dutch to me and back again. “No loyalty among the lot of you, is there? If that was me strung up, I would’ve died before I gave up the location of one of my brothers.” His disgust pierced the tip of each word, but Dutch’s quick confession didn’t shock me at all. He was a piece of shit, as was Griller, as were all those bastards who wore the Savage Reaper patch. The only one who hadn’t been as vile as the rest was Pike, and he was borderline, his actions of bringing Maddie into his club putting him more on the side of despicable than not.
“Every man for himself,” the fucker replied, his voice lower than before and my guess was because he was on the cusp of either passing out or perishing altogether. His head bobbed up and down, his legs wobbled underneath him. “You’re not gon… gonna untie me, are ya?”
“No,” I said as calmly as could be.
He nodded as best he could, the glint in his eyes screaming he had more to say. Question was, did I wanna hear it, or kill him? Breathing the same air with the guy did nothing but spin my anger tighter, and it was then, thinking about how much I needed to get back to Zoe, that I decided to end all this right now. She was the important one, not Dutch.
Not my need to prolong his agony.
Not the need to watch him suffer.
“I should’ve killed her… and her baby.”
“What?” I asked in confusion. Why was he talking about Braylen? From my understanding they didn’t touch her. Only Zoe.
“She begged the first time, scared we’d do her so hard, we’d kill the fuckin’ thing.”
I was on him before I could blink. “Who the fuck you talkin’ about?” His throat was in my left hand, my fingers working on closing his airway, even though I needed him to breathe to answer. “You talkin’ about the blonde?” The tip of the machete pressed into his crotch. For a man on the brink of death, he snapped his head up quickly, sneering at me because he knew he had something worthy of telling me, and by the look on my face, and the shakiness of my voice, he was privy to information I wasn’t. “Who are you fuckin’ talkin’ about?” I roared, squeezing tighter. He blinked several times, unable to obtain oxygen.
“Let him answer, Brick.” Marek’s hand clasped my shoulder. “Release him.”
I pried my fingers away, the ache in my hand proof I’d almost choked him to death. “Answer me.” I stood toe to toe with him. “Are you talkin’ about the blonde?”
He wheezed on each intake of air. When he calmed, he shook his head, his smirk making me want to stick the blade into his mouth and through the back of his skull. “The redhead,” he finally said. He jutted his head forward. “When I fucked her, she begged me not to kill her baby.”
Gone was all sense of barely restrained calm.
Gone was all rational thought, as if any had existed at this point.
Gone was the need to watch him suffer, to witness his slow decline.
Gone was the desire to watch every drop of blood slowly spill from his body.
With all my strength, I shoved the blade into his crotch as far as it would go, yanked it out, stepped back and swung at his neck, almost taking his head clean off his shoulders. He didn’t have time to scream between strikes, his eyes rolling in their sockets before his head lolled to the side, blood bathing the ground at his feet.
The clank of the metal weapon saturated the silence around us. My mind went blank and my body started to shake, and before I realized what was happening, I was tearing through the barn and destroying everything in my path. My knuckles were bloody, every muscle in my body screaming from the burst of exertion.
Only when my body gave out, and I sank to my knees did I allow the full impact of what that bastard said filter in.
Zoe was pregnant.
She was carrying my child when they raped her repeatedly, and I wasn’t there to protect her.
With glassy eyes, I looked up at Marek, and the look he gave me told me he understood my suffering. He’d gone through his own ordeal with Sully years back, and from his expression, I could tell those demons still haunted him.
Movement to our left pulled my focus and I was on my feet. Ford appeared first, then Stone was two steps behind him, dragging a battered and restrained Griller. Snatching the gun from my waistband, I raised my arm as I moved closer, firing three shots, two to his chest and one that tore through his throat.
Stone jumped back, shouting that I could’ve warned him first.
So much for saving Griller for Linc. I hoped he wasn’t too upset. If so, I’d have to blame it on a snap with reality, to which I wouldn’t be lying.
47
“We should probably get rid of as much evidence as possible,” Ford offered, walking away from the rest of us and searching the barn. For what, I didn’t know, and I didn’t have the mental energy to care. My only thought was of getting back to the cabin as quickly as possible.
I needed to see Zoe even though I doubted she wanted to see me.
I needed to tell her she’d never have to worry about any of those bastards ever again.
And… I needed to know if what Dutch said was true.
“Got some.” Ford carried a large red container toward us, plopping it on the ground, then craning his neck. “Fuck, it’s been a long night.” The guy seemed as casual as could be, and I quickly wondered what he’d done during his time in the service that stuff like this didn’t seem to faze him much.
“Do you think it’s a good idea to burn it down? Won’t that call attention to this place?” Stone raked his hands over his face, tugging on the end of his beard, a habit he had when he was stressed.
“It’s better for the fire to wipe away as much evidence we were here, rather than let the bodies decompose.” He looked to Stone. “Help me get those two from the woods, so we can get this over with.” I half expected our VP to utter some nonsense about not taking orders, but he just sighed, following in step as they disappeared from the barn.
I walked in circles, not knowing what to do with myself, the need for revenge still prevalent in my blood. But there were no more Reapers for us to annihilate, not here, at least.
“Yeah.” My head swiveled toward Marek, his phone pressed to his ear. “Slow down. Slow… what? … When? … Fuck!” he groaned, slumping his shoulders. “Is he the only one? What about everyone else?” Prez was silent for several long seconds. “Does he know?” I was in front of Marek before ever realizing I’d moved. “We don’t have a choice. If he’s that bad, it’s gonna take too long to get to the cabin for Addy to look at him.” Another silent pause. “Okay. Then get to the cabin after.” He hung up and locked eyes with me. “Fuck.”
“Who?” One word was sufficient.
“Hawke.”
“Hurt or…” I didn’t want to give life to the other word. Hawke wasn’t my favorite guy, but I didn’t dislike him either. The man was loyal and fierce, and Tripp’s younger brother.
“Hangin’ on, but barely. He got hit three times, the nastiest one was to the gut.”
The barn door swung open right then, Ford and Stone dragging two dead Reapers toward the pile of their buddies. Stone’s focus was a bit hazy when he approached afterward.
“You okay, man?” I’d let Prez break the news about the nomad.
“I’m a touch dizzy but otherwise okay.” He looked between me and his best friend. “What’s up?”
“Hawke got hit,” Marek blurted, no point in holding back.
“Shit.” His face scrunched in a look that said he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the next part.
“He’s not dead, but it doesn’t look good. They had to take him to the hospital. Didn’t have another choice.”
“Does Tripp know?”
“Yeah.”
I looked around Stone and saw Ford dousing the bodies with gasoline, including Dutch’s, then
the four corners of the barn.
“You guys ready?” he said, clutching the container in his hand. All we could do was nod. “I’ll spread the rest of this inside the house, then we’ll go.” Again, more nods from us were the only responses.
I needed to get out of here, the smell of blood and the sight of those bastards finally taking their toll on me. The night air rushed over me the moment I stepped outside, the subtle sound of nature doing nothing to calm the rush of emotions bombarding me. I didn’t know which one to latch on to keep focus.
My heart ached for Zoe.
I was worried about Cutter and Hawke.
And I was pissed I didn’t have more control, saving Griller for Linc.
A hand clasped my shoulder and I cringed, lost inside my head that I never saw anyone approach. “We gotta go,” Stone said, brushing past me and toward the truck.
The yellow and orange glow of the flames were haunting yet the sight of them helped to cool a flicker of rage that continued to burn inside me.
Knowing those men would be reduced to nothing more than a pile of bones should have given me some sense of solace, but I was too messed up in my head, and in my heart, for anything to completely wipe away all that I felt.
For Zoe.
For my brothers.
Each mile we traveled further away from the farm, I started to calm, albeit minutely. Finding out whether we accomplished what we set out to do, which was to eradicate the Reapers from all three locations, should’ve been on my mind, but my only thoughts were of her. I couldn’t even feel guilty for not giving more thought to Cutter or Hawke, and as insensitive as that might seem, the woman who was suffering because I failed to keep her safe, would be the only person who’d get my full attention for now.
48
A chattering of voices pulled me from the dredges of a restless sleep, the images of those men standing over me, taunting me, hurting me, faded into the darkness as I opened my eyes.
Licking my lips slowly, my mouth too dry to produce enough saliva, the taste of cotton was the only thing I could focus on, the only thing I wanted to focus on. My muscles ached, every shred of skin on my body bristled with tinges of pain. Addy had given me some pills to help, but I had no idea when the last time I took one was, and if I had an ounce of energy, I’d yell for her.
A chill in the room raced over me, my only protection the large T-shirt I wore and thin sheet on top of me. Any movement I made shifted the material against my body, and even though the fabric was soft, it felt like razor blades on my skin. I’d managed to go to the bathroom earlier, but other than my trip to the toilet, I refused to leave this bed.
I had no idea how long I’d been here, or even where I was, for that matter. I didn’t recognize the soft gray walls, or the cream carpet, or the king-sized bed I lay in. The only thing I knew was that I was free from them, but for how long? Would they find me again, waiting until I was healed only to inflict more pain?
A lone tear leaked from the corner of my eye, the wetness trailing down my cheek. I was shocked I could manage to still cry, having thought I used them all up in that room with Braylen.
When the image of my stepmom popped into my muddled brain, I attempted to sit up, but my body failed me. I barely managed to get an inch off the bed before the mattress molded around me again, hissing when I shifted, and my shirt scraped against my back.
All I could do was groan, the sounds an odd sense of comfort. I wanted to close my eyes and fall back into sleep, but I knew when I did, they’d be waiting for me. Although being conscious wasn’t any better.
I heard more voices, this time outside my room. Their words weren’t clear, but I didn’t need to hear them to know they were talking about me. I could sense it, like I could sense that Brick was one of the people on the other side of that door.
The last time I saw him, I blamed him for what happened to me, even telling him I hated him. And I meant it… then. And perhaps I still did. I hadn’t fully processed what happened to me, my mind slowing down the events as if I was lost in some kind of haze, only bits and pieces of the attacks filtering in and hitting me when I wasn’t prepared. As if I’d ever be prepared to house those memories.
The door handle turned, and I held my breath, unsure what I would say once I saw him again.
Would my heart continue to splinter?
Would I tell him to go away?
Would it be too painful to see the pity in his eyes?
Would that pity morph into disgust the longer he stared at me?
The light from the hallway spilled into the room, and Brick’s large form filled the doorway, frozen in place the moment our eyes collided. He seemed unsure as to whether he should enter, but I couldn’t alleviate his hesitancy because I didn’t know what to do either.
“Can I come in?” The deep baritone of his voice washed over me, but instead of eliciting a warmth, a craving, a desire, I pressed myself further into the mattress, fearful of the words he’d speak upon entering. The only response I could give was silence, which he took as an affirmative since I didn’t demand he leave. His steps toward me were slow, restrained, his limp slight but present.
My eyes traveled over him, glancing at the area I saw Addy patch while he was here last time. Oddly, a wave of sympathy barreled over me for him. How much more could the man endure? He’d been shot three times in such a short span of time. With the realization, my eyes widened when an image of my dad surfaced.
“Is my dad okay?” I managed to croak, my throat drier than I thought. “Is he—”
“He’s fine. He’s at the hospital with Braylen, making sure the baby is okay.” The mention of them both forced out a sigh of relief, but my alleviation was short-lived when he continued toward me, an odd look on his face as he neared. I moved toward the center of the mattress, the bed dipping with his weight when he propped himself on the edge. He reached for my hand, but I yanked it away before he managed to touch me, cradling my arm close to my chest.
My reaction was immediate, saddening me that I couldn’t stand him making any kind of physical contact. I closed my eyes for some of the longest moments of my life, listening to the sound of his heavy breaths mixed with my staggered ones. When I finally dared to look at him, his eyes had welled with emotion, the sight of his impending breakdown bolstering mine. I wasn’t strong enough to handle any of this, and on top of everything else, Brick, the strongest man I’d ever met, was on the verge of emotionally collapsing. My heart thrummed wildly, my mind blanking from the lack of coherent thoughts.
He moved closer and clasped my hand in his and this time I didn’t resist. “They’ll never hurt you again.” His strangled voice was barely above a whisper. “I made him pay for what he did to you. And the other… they’ll never hurt you again,” he repeated, clutching my hand tighter.
I would’ve thought the knowledge those men were dead, which was what I concluded from what he’d told me, even though he didn’t speak the literal words, would give me solace, but there was nothing.
No relief.
No comfort.
Nothing.
“I can’t… I can’t do this.” I snatched my hand back and turned my head toward the windows, watching as the sun peeked over the horizon, promises of a new beginning doing nothing but reminding me I had to live with the sorrow inside me for another day.
He didn’t move from his position and I didn’t have it in me to ask him to leave, or to stay. And I certainly wasn’t prepared for what came out of his mouth next.
“Are you pregnant?” The bed shook beneath me. “Are you?” He barely gave me enough time to comprehend his question before he asked again, and it was then the content of his inquiry hit home.
Turning, I took in the state of him again. His skin had flushed and the glassiness in his eyes had receded. Hands that had been flat were now balled into tight fists, resting in his lap, his shoulders bunched and practically hitting his ears.
“What?” I choked on my swallow, my confusion swirling around m
e as to why he would ask me that specifically?
“Are. You. Pregnant?” He emphasized each word on a growl, the muscles between his brows forming a deep crease.
“Why would you…” I stopped speaking, my mind whirling back to the one time I pleaded with the man with the red mark not to attack me, uttering that I was pregnant in hopes he’d scour up an ounce of mercy for me. But he didn’t. The only thing my words managed to accomplish was to elicit a grin from him.
Brick hopped off the bed and took a step back, boring holes into me, his intensity making me shudder. His fists were clenched so hard, his knuckles turned white, all while the rest of him reddened as he waited for me to confirm or deny whether I was carrying his child.
“He said you… I need to know the… please just tell me.” His head dropped forward, finally tearing his eyes from mine. “I can’t bear the thought, on top of everything else.”
What I endured at the hands of those men was beyond horrific, and I doubted I’d ever be able to fully recover, even after my body healed. But staring at Brick’s fractured spirit, watching him start to break apart in front of me, spurred me to gather a speck of strength and tell him what he needed to hear.
The truth.
“No.”
His head flew up and his eyes widened. “You’re not?”
I shook my head this time, needing the rest of my energy for my next wave of words. “What made you think that?” I had a feeling I already knew but wanted him to answer all the same.
“It was one of the last things he said.”
Question after question mounted until my head pounded, but I didn’t ask a single one because nothing would change what had already happened.
