Ink carefully sat at my hip, his beautiful blue eyes fringed with dark lashes remained firmly on me. “Isaac shot him. He’s dead.” Relief unlike I’d ever felt before filled me. The monster had been slain, we were safe. “Slink made it,” Ink continued, his hand rising to rest on my cheek once again, brushing away every tear that fell. “He made it to Nelson. He made the call. The rebel forces came.” A mixture of disbelief and pride clouded his words. Then his lips slipped back into a scowl. “If they’d been just a few minutes earlier, it would have saved you this pain. Fuck! If they’d been twenty minutes earlier you wouldn’t have had to fight Jeze.”
Jeze’s startled image twisted its way into my memories. The look on her face as I continued to stab her was a mixture of shock and horror. I didn’t feel any remorse, though. And perhaps that made me a monster, but if I needed to be a monster to avenge Ink and the people of Liberty, so be it.
“‘If only’ is a dark and morbid word game.”
Word game—a foggy memory floated back to me and I shuddered under its onslaught.
My gaze was drawn back to the stranger in the room, the perfectly groomed young man who seemed to have joined me on this journey of death and rebirth.
“My name is Corporal James Edwards, I’m a soldier and medic with the rebel forces. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You saved me.” It wasn’t really a question, he had, after all, said he would ‘fix me right up.’
“All in a day’s work,” he replied with a genuine smile.
“How old are you?” I found myself asking.
His grin grew bigger. “A gentleman never tells.”
I smiled, Ink sighed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a little slither of peace settle into my weary bones.
Jeze was dead.
Jebediah was dead.
It was over.
“Trigger?”
A growl rumbled in Ink’s chest and his entire body filled with tension, the hands cupping my cheeks tightening ever so slightly. “He’s in lockdown. We’re deciding what to do with him.”
He was alive? Somehow it didn’t seem fair. He’d hurt Skye outside the compound walls, then once her body had finally recovered, he marched her to her death. He’d been the traitor to help Jebediah infiltrate Liberty. He had opened our doors to a madman, and the consequences would stay with us for years to come. He deserved to die too. But would another death fix anything? Would it grant me a reprieve from my sorrow? Did Trigger carry any guilt for what he’d done? To kill him would release him from such a burden. That wasn’t fair either. I wanted him to stew in self-hatred, to feel the binds of captivity. I wanted him to suffer like the people of Liberty had.
“The Underworld,” I whispered, the idea unfurling until it became a pulsing need. “He should suffer for the rest of his days.”
Ink’s eyes flared with surprise, the dark pupils almost overtaking the dark blue iris. His jaw ticked, and he watched me with curious silence before eventually offering a short, sharp nod. Then, the sting from Trigger’s betrayal and the surprise from my suggestion melted away, and this sullen, hard man disappeared, and something soft and loving took its place.
“You were fierce and beautiful out there,” he quietly confessed. “A true warrior.”
His pride warmed every inch of me, and the tears on my face slowly dried. His gaze dropped to my lips, and my tongue darted out, trying to offer some moisture to the dry and cracked flesh. The corner of Ink’s mouth twitched, a smile threatening to break his steely composure. With slow, measured movements, he leaned into my body, his arms on either side of my shoulders keeping him from pressing me into the mattress. I felt every shift in the air as dipped forward to kiss me. It was soft, gentle and virtuous, yet said so much.
“I love you.” The words were breathed right into my mouth.
“I love you more,” I confessed.
“Not possible.”
“I don’t even have the energy to argue.”
Then he smiled, and my cracked and broken world began to piece itself back together.
CHAPTER 32 – Ink
The hospital had been my home for over a week now, I hadn’t left, a part of me feeling an irrational fear that if I did, something would happen to Gracie. I needed to know she was going to be okay before I could face what was happening outside the front doors.
Today was that day. She’d opened her eyes, she purged tears then, she smiled. That smile offered me the strength I needed to take the first step in our future. Pushing open the front door, I shivered at the icy chill in the air. The sky was blue though, the sun touching everything it could possibly reach. The ground before the hospital which was turned into a bloody mess a week ago was now covered in a thick layer of snow, all signs of death buried.
None of Harrigan’s men had been killed, their injuries superficial in comparison to Gracie’s. Only a slight limp was proof that a week ago I’d been shot in the thigh. Bruises decorated my body like a grotesque patchwork quilt, and I sported a few stitches which would leave scars. My body was stiff, and I couldn’t remember feeling so goddamned tired, but the stress of Jebediah’s attack was disappearing, leaving behind a much more welcomed feeling of calm.
Ice crunched under my feet as I headed for the open garage on the other side of the small field that Jebediah had tried to turn into some sick and twisted gladiator arena. Although the atrocities on this ground had also been buried under snow, a haunting chill filled the air, one not caused from the winter we were embracing. A place considered somewhat sacred to the people of Liberty had been tainted. I needed to figure out a way to fix that, and soon.
Harrigan stood at the doors to the garage. He stood amongst his men, a good head taller than everyone who surrounded him. His salt and pepper hair was a mess, and he looked tired, but it didn’t detract from the power he exuded. When he saw me approaching he immediately stepped away from his men and strolled toward me.
“She’s awake.”
It wasn’t a question, Harrigan knew I wouldn’t leave her side unless she’d made a considerable improvement. The tension in the man’s shoulders seemed to disappear with my nod. He truly cared for these people. Their wellbeing was as important as his own, even more so. Freeing the innocent people trapped in the Underworld had taken years of planning, and keeping those people safe was now an ongoing mission. Liberty’s invasion hurt him as much as it hurt us.
“You ready to visit Sean?”
The use of Trigger’s real name was like a punch to the gut. It reminded me he was a real person, someone’s son and brother, and once my best friend.
Was I ready to see him? Not even close.
Did I need to see him? Fuck yes, I did.
“Gracie had a suggestion.” Harrigan arched one graying brow in curiosity. “The Underworld.”
He grunted and smiled, the rarely used emotion softening the staunch commander. “I have contacts, we can get him in. It’s perfect, he betrayed the innocents, so we’ll give him a lifetime of what they endured. She’s strong, that girl of yours… smart, too.”
“You have no idea,” I agreed.
She was everything I could never be—compassionate and understanding, forgiving, generous, gentle. Some might suggest my gruff exterior and cold heart was too hard for her soft one, but the truth was, under all that supple kindness was an unbreakable strength. We fit each other perfectly.
Harrigan didn’t say anything else. Instead, he turned on his heel and began walking. I followed, each step becoming heavier and harder the closer we got to the storage facility where Trigger was being kept. A few people wandered about, fear evident in their weary faces. I offered what peace I could in the way of nods and smiles which probably resembled more of a grimace, but I didn’t have the right words to soothe them. Gracie would though, and once she was up and about, we’d begin fixing the damage Jebediah had done to our people.
Stepping into the large building, I followed Harrigan across the cement floor and through t
he wide open space. At a doorway, on the opposite side of the room, Harrigan pushed through and took the stairs leading into a narrow corridor with steel doors lining it. This was our form of a prison, five rooms we could use to isolate troublemakers. Until now, it had never been used. At the last door, two soldiers stood to attention. A key was offered, and with a sturdy hand, Harrigan unlocked it, then he moved aside.
Neither of us had spoken, but there was no need. We were both men of action rather than words, and comfortable in our silence. Turning the handle, I stepped into the room, closing the door behind me. The space was small, the only furniture a mattress against one wall and a bucket in the corner. The artificial light was stark and almost too bright, coming from the fluorescent tube in the ceiling. There was no window, no fresh air, and it stank. Adding to the despair of the room was Trigger, sitting on the end of the mattress, one leg outstretched, the other bent and an arm resting over his knee. He wasn’t chained, but he knew he was trapped and wouldn’t escape. He looked calm and unaffected by the fact he was a prisoner.
“Wondered if you’d show up. Actually, I thought you’d pussied out.”
Dark shadows rested beneath his eyes and he’d lost weight, but otherwise, he looked like the same ol’ Trigger. No injuries marred his body, unlike mine… unlike Gracie. Edwards had explained Trigger had been through the worst of the withdrawals from the NIM he had become addicted to. He’d also told me that during those withdrawals, Trigger had spilled many of his secrets. Apparently, he’d been contacted during one of our trips to Nelson by an associate of Jebediah’s. They wanted access to our compound, and Trigger was only too happy to oblige in exchange for money. What he intended to do with that money, none of us knew. He’d broken our trust, and he’d betrayed Liberty. Good people died because of his selfish choices.
“I talked to Gracie this morning,” I began, ignoring his attempt to taunt me. Trigger arched one brow but otherwise kept silent. “I wanted to kill you. Harrigan suggested a hanging. I felt like there was no punishment more deserving, after the lives lost because of your betrayal. It felt justified.”
Trigger smiled. “She won’t let me be killed, will she? Her heart is too soft,” he sneered, almost mockingly.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I allowed him a moment to think his freedom would somehow be granted because of Gracie’s compassion. He was expecting it. He exuded a strange kind of nervous, but at the same time excited energy which he was trying hard to conceal. Even though my girl was known for her kindness, she was also a fighter, a warrior, and that was something Trigger didn’t understand and completely underestimated.
“The Underground,” I murmured, the two words hanging over us in the otherwise silent room. Trigger’s smirk fell. His surprise, quickly followed by fear, was unexpectedly soothing on my battered soul. I wasn’t sure how Trigger’s punishment would affect me. We’d been as good as brothers for so many years, enduring all the trials soldiers bear together. Thinking of Gracie lying in the hospital, a hole in her chest which almost took her away from me, I grinned thinking of Trigger’s future. The prison was miles underground, and he’d be buried with the worst of the worst. Every day would be a battle, and he would never see the light of day again. It was poetic justice.
I’d come to Trigger thinking I needed to say something, to ask questions and try to understand why he did what he did. It wasn’t closure I needed, though. It wasn’t a goodbye or a speech packed with hatred and revenge, it was Gracie. I needed her and being away from her for just this short time was torture on my beaten soul. Turning, I reached for the door handle.
“That’s it?” Trigger spat out from behind me. “You’re not even going to ask me why?”
No, I wasn’t, I really didn’t care. The reason for his betrayal wouldn’t change anything, it wouldn’t bring back the lives lost. At one time his friendship had been true, but that was gone, and I was pleasantly numb toward him now.
“To be honest, I don’t really care. Enjoy what light you can find, Trigger, because the rest of your days will be spent in darkness.”
His shouts were muffled as the door slammed shut behind me. Harrigan fell into step beside me as we made our way out of the storage facility. With the sun once again on my skin, and Trigger’s temporary prison far behind me, I paused. The field before me was filled with the sound of laughter. A small group of children were taking advantage of the fine winter weather, the sound of their innocence and happiness wiping away the violent memories. Parents stood close by, looking as nervous as deer ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. But the children, they played without a care in the world.
“Ink!” Gracie’s little friend Jed broke away from the small gathering and took a few running steps toward me. “Where’s Grace?” he asked, pulling to an abrupt stop. His cheeks were flushed red from the sun, a small frown on his lips, his brows furrowed.
“Still in the hospital, but she’s feeling much better.”
“Maybe I could visit her.”
“I think she’d like that.”
Stuffing his hands in his back pockets, he shuffled in place, pushing slushy snow about with his worn shoes. “Is the ghost man really gone?” he asked, his voice low and cautious.
“He’s dead.”
Harrigan huffed out a breath of air from beside me, something that sounded like a cross between laughter and disbelief. Perhaps I shouldn’t have put it so bluntly, but as far as I was concerned, knowing the boogie man had been killed was the perfect way to pacify a child’s fear.
Jed nodded, still looking far too serious for his six years. “That’s good,” he simply said, turning his back on me and returning to his friends. Pausing a few feet away, he glanced back over his shoulder. “Tell Grace I saw a woodpecker today. I think it’s building a nest in the trees behind her cabin. We might have babies in the spring.” With that, he ran back out into the field.
“A child’s spirit is strong, they’re hard to break.” Harrigan’s words caught my attention, and I cast him a sideways glance. “They are the key to your future. They will help heal the heart of Liberty.”
My gaze drifted back to the field before us. A ground that had been bathed in blood, a war battled upon its icy cover. Those memories would fade, the wounds would heal, and though the scars might remain, they wouldn’t hurt anymore. Liberty was resilient, we would prevail. I wouldn’t allow it any other way.
CHAPTER 33 – Grace
Fatigue had been my companion for three weeks now, along with a residual ache in my chest. Some of that pain was due to the damage the bullet did upon entering my body, and the still healing tissues and muscles. Some of it was phantom pain, a memory of the overwhelming agony I felt in those moments after being shot. I still had trouble believing I’d been shot, and died, twice. Every time I thought of it, the notion slammed into me with the force of a truck. Thinking of how close I came to leaving this world forced a shudder through my body and my throat tightened with emotion.
Along with my new companion, fatigue, there was another new friend called weeping. I cried at the drop of a hat, often. Sometimes all it would take was a word, sometimes a memory, and this morning, a woodpecker. I’d cried over seeing a woodpecker in the trees behind my cabin.
I thought I’d lost my mind, but Ashlynn confirmed that post-traumatic stress disorder was expected after what I’d been through and along with the emotional outbursts, I’d also likely have nightmares and moments of deep fear and anxiety. She hadn’t been wrong, but knowing what was happening to me helped me control it. Deep breathing exercises kept calm any episode I might be trapped in, and concentrating on the present and finding an anchor to keep me from slipping into memories helped too.
Ink was by my side almost day and night, prepared to slay my new unseen enemy—nightmares. We both struggled with them, but sleeping in each other’s arms every night helped with the lingering fear, especially when we awoke bathed in sweat with a racing heart. Ink’s hovering presence both comforted and frustrated me. Three week
s under his protective thumb was taking its toll. Hence, why I had demanded he not follow me out to my swing among the trees. I needed some ‘me’ time, alone with nothing but my thoughts and nature. A moment to let all my worries and fears disappear and exist in blissful ignorance.
A sparrow darted through the leafless canopy, and I followed its path with a smile. Such freedom still had the power to make me jealous. Yet, the walls that I’d always perceived as a prison now felt like a comforting embrace. Our compound had been reinforced. Barbed wire wrapped around the top of the entire wall and any holes beneath it—like the one Hadley had wiggled through to rescue Skye—were plugged up. The tunnel which Skye and I were supposed to have escaped through together was still there, but the door had been replaced with one of solid steel and heavily bolted from the inside. Harrigan’s expert soldiers had been working with Ink to tighten security on the front gate, and put in place more drills that would be used to keep the people inside Liberty safe from any attempted takeovers in the future.
For the first time in a long time, I felt safe as my feet kicked back and forth, keeping the swing in motion.
Thinking of Skye hurt, I missed her so much. Her death had left a gaping hole in my world, and though it would never be filled, its edges should become less jagged with time, its darkness eventually fading. I’d always miss her, but the sharp sting of her loss would eventually dull. Even though I knew all this, it didn’t help how I felt now.
Tears prickled my eyes, but I refused to cry again. I’d already shed tears in the shower this morning. At some point, I was going to have to admit that my missing monthly cycle might also have something to do with my emotional state, but if I was pregnant, it was very early days and I wanted to wait a while longer before I went looking for a pregnancy test. I was selfish enough to admit I wanted more time with Ink, just him and I together, getting to know each other in the most intimate of ways. However, there was no denying the thought of growing large with his baby inside me sent a flutter of excitement through my heart.
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