Page 10 of The Unruly


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I sigh heavily and then take the seat beside the bed. My eyes skip over Dad’s abused form and over to Dawson. His blond hair is dirty with soot and his eyes are red. Snot runs down his upper lip. Aside from that, he seems like his usual self, trying to get into everything he can.

“I feel like I should be out there looking for them,” I whisper, eyes filling with unshed tears. “I’m useless right now.”

Mom unscrews a bottle of water and gently holds it to Dawson’s mouth. His snot goes all over the bottle. Gross. She lets him sip from the bottle before holding it up to me to offer me some. I violently shake my head to decline.

“You’re not useless, Son,” Mom says, using her shirt to wipe off the snot. “You’re needed here right now. We have to band together until Atticus gets here.”

Knowing that Uncle Atticus and Aunt Eve will be here soon is a relief. They can’t get here soon enough. Not only will we have an uninjured, able-bodied man, but we’ll also have supplies and a vehicle.

“But they were kidnapped, Mom. What if they hurt them?” I scrub my palm over my dirty face and let out a ragged breath. “I’m so fucking terrified.”

She doesn’t chide me for language, which I’m thankful for. “I’m scared too, but they have Raegan and Ronan. Those two aren’t incompetent.”

They’re together and quite capable. It gives me hope.

“Raegan won’t be happy,” I say with a dark chuckle. “Her knife’s gone. Maybe she’ll stab them all.”

We can only hope.

“Those kids are smart,” Mom agrees. “They may be outnumbered, but that won’t stop them. We can count on them to take care of the little ones too.”

Dawson hollers and nearly knocks the water bottle out of Mom’s hands. She helps him to another snotty sip that churns my stomach.

“The animals are okay,” I mutter, eager to offer some good news. “The eggs are bad, but the chickens are hanging out in the goat pen.”

“Where are the pups?”

My stomach twists. Now onto the bad news. “Gone. I, uh, haven’t looked around for their bodies yet.”

She purses her lips together and glances over at Dad. “We’ll find them, Ry. And your Dad will be up and his usual self before we know it.”

Her optimism is a salve to my bleeding heart. I want to believe her words with everything I have. That by the time Uncle Atticus arrives, Dad will be healed, and together we can hunt those motherfuckers down.

My boot moves and something crunches under it. I peek down to see the remnants of Ronan’s glasses. Just knowing he’s out there and unable to see makes me want to throw up. Reaching down, I pick up the crushed frames and hold them up. Mom lets out a pained sound when she sees them. Tears rush down her cheeks like two rivers as she begins to cry, a soul-shattering sound that threatens to kill me.

Neither I nor my baby brother is immune to her sobbing.

He starts to wail along with her while I desperately smack away the wetness on my cheek.

Those trespassers severed the Jamison family. They took a blade and cut us right down the middle. We’re bleeding out, no hope for staunching the flow.

But we will heal.

And when we finally do…

Hellwillbe to pay. Vengeancewillbe served. Wewillget even.

We’ve been walking for hours with few breaks. I’m exhausted and starving. More than anything, though, I’m pissed. With each step farther into the wilderness, I question whether or not we’ll be able to find our way home again.

“Can we take a break?” I ask, ignoring Tom beside me and hollering ahead to Michael, who’s leading the group. “The kids are tired and my feet are killing me.”

Several murmurs ripple through the group. I counted earlier when I was bored and feeling frustrated by my situation. There are twenty-three of us in total. Six of my people, including Sadie, and seventeen of them. Of their group, four of them are small children and two are teenagers. That leaves eleven able-bodied adults. Me, Sadie, and Ronan have no hope against their eleven. Thirteen if you count their teenagers.

I may not be able to take them in a fight, but I can use their kids against them.

Tee, Owen’s wife, stops walking and shoots me a thankful smile.

It wasn’t for you, witch.

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