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“Move out,” Wells orders.
We weave our way through the bloody carnage, stepping over bodies as we emerge into the startling brightness of the dreary, gray daylight and the bursting flames billowing out from the building.
Celeste is coiled around me tighter than a boa constrictor. Her mouth moves against my neck, her acidy breath mixing with the scent of blowing grass and smoke. “I’m so sorry.”
I’m still on high alert as we exit even though I know Ty’s got an eye on us. I tighten my hold on her, letting my lips briefly skim her cheek. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re sorry for, Carver, unless you doubted me.”
She hedges a beat, but her small voice finally pushes out, “I didn’t.”
“Good,” I grit out, instantly irate with her because I hear the doubt she’s denying, but now isn’t the time to address it. “No matter how dark, baby girl.”
“I know,” she whispers, her body still trembling in my embrace. “You’ll always show up.”
“Always.”
CELESTE
My nose burns from the bits of skin and blood coating me, the scent of death and bile causing tears to seep down my cheeks. I’m so weak and shaky in Liam’s arms. I loathe being weak.
Inside the cell, I was somewhat disassociated. Scared but detached enough to just do what I needed to do. To play their game with feigned confidence. Even when the guy flickered on the dim light and grabbed me—not Beef Jerky because Ivy was his new prize—I squashed the quaking fear that he’d pull the trigger. An uncanny acceptance enwrapped me, a resolve that joining Ben wouldn’t be the worst fate. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt that. It was the first time that thought felt brave though.
But much like that night in the hotel bathroom, as soon as Liam touched me, I let go. Whatever had been holding me up fell away with the desolated monster.
Splattered on the concrete. Electrocuted with a hairdryer. Commemorated in the sea.
Set ablaze in a Dodge Viper.
Death is in me. It’s in my veins and bones and cells.
I can’t escape it.
Which begs the question I’ve been choking back. “Keith?” I whisper against Liam’s ear.
He nods, his scruff scratching my cheek. “Yes. And Arnold. I’m so sorry, baby girl. Rex, Dante, and Rena are okay.”
My sobs break through the smoke and hushed extermination, thundering so ferociously that I can’t seem to suck in a breath without wheezing.
Wells and Liam tromp into the woods with Ivy and me, gathering up their bags of supplies and marching through the overgrown brush without waiting on the other guys. They’re so methodical and focused, like this is an everyday occurrence.
Flames whoosh up in our wake. A brutal massacre reduced to forgotten ash.
My heart thumps, shivers skittering up my arms, muscles aching with the tension I’ve held since the bomb went off at the shop.
Moments later, Ty and Gage fall in step with us.
Gage lifts my chin off Liam’s shoulder while hiking behind us, his thumb collecting my tears and buffing at what must be blood or brains from the man who held me. “You’re tough, angel. I knew you were. You’ll be locked up with us for the foreseeable future, but you’re fucking tough.”
I wish I could soak that in, but tough is the last descriptor I’d assign myself at present. The Big Guy viewing me that way tugs at my heartstrings all the same. His opinion means more to me than I would’ve ever expected. Somehow, it deepens the anguish of the men I lost though.
“That’s for sure,” Ty agrees. He kisses Ivy’s temple and switches out with Gage, palming my head while keeping pace with Liam. “No more going out for a while. You okay, Lettie?”
Okay? I’m not even sure how to answer that. How could this be okay? And yet here, with the five of them, safety cocoons me, so I nod. Ty needs to know I’m not broken.
Maybe this is what okay looks like to them—a narrow escape from fire and brimstone. Slathered with the insides of my failed executioner and mourning men I’ve known for most of my life.
Arnold was like a stoic grandpa, quietly cheering me on in the background of all my important moments. How can he be past tense?
Like Ben. And Keith.
