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“No one’s touched my dick since Ma,” I argue. “Not even me.”
At my declaration, all movement in the vehicle stops, going eerily silent.
“Pops.” Country whistles my name. “You haven’t been touched since Ma died?”
“Nobody’s touch, including your own, means a fucking thing without the love of your life.” I gulp back the emotions that’ve wrapped themselves around me, drowning me in a sea of abyss—hiding the loneliness from onlookers, and the guilt that nearly suffocated me from feeling that emotion.
There’s more to life than getting your dick wet.
Like keeping my family safe.
“Get back to work.”
* * *
Minutes creep by.
Our audio is fuzzy.
The hallowed, uninsulated walls of the convent have each syllable being spoken, bouncing around from one wall to the other, echoing—making decoding their sentences harder to decipher.
Frustration is mounting in the car.
The musk of terror and discontent permeating the air makes it hard to catch your breath, causing you to choke on your own saliva.
Everyone is jumpy, ready to swoop in and disassemble any unseen variable if either girl mutters a sound of distress or trouble.
We’re all a ball of energized nerve endings, a little frayed, and scarily wound up. We could run ten laps around this facility, and still have enough fuel leftover in our bodies to take on combative attackers.
“Make… help.”
“Anyone hear what Charlee said? All I got out of that were two words. Everything else in between was broken up and clouded with static,” Country asks, leaning into the device as if that will clear things up.
“Hide… safe,” Hemmingway spouts, and Tyson’s eyebrows crinkle.
“Fuck, this is jacked up,” Tyson hisses. “I think our equipment is broken.”
“It’s not broken,” Master argues. “Nothing will come across clearly with this type of medieval structure. There’s no insulation. It’s drafty, and every sound will reverberate. All we can do is listen for signs of trouble.”
“This operation gets better and better, doesn’t it? Did we just send our girls into the lion’s den without any weapons to defend themselves with? Someone better come up with some good news for me, because if things deteriorate from here, I’m going in,” Tyson announces. I have zero doubts he’ll do just that. Hemmi, Honor, and Haven are his entire existence. He was spiraling into darkness until they gave him light and woke him up. We were close to losing him… too damn close.
“I promise you this, Tyson. If anything sounds off, or if the girls get spooked for any reason whatsoever, I’ll be the first one leading the charge in there to bring them out,” I vow.
A snort comes from my side. “You’ll only be seeing dust, Julius. As soon as a whimper leaves Hemmi’s mouth, Tyson’s gone. He’ll be nothing but a breeze in the wind, and we’ll all be playing catch up.”
I have no arguments with that because, for once, I agree with what my brother’s saying.
Shayne
Mera paces the room,her feet eating up the flooring as she walks, stops, twirls, and picks up the same pattern. She’s chewing on her thumb’s cuticle. I’m worried she’s going to gnaw it to the point it bleeds.
“Tell me again,” she insists, swiveling to face me.
Sighing, I repeat the demands of my brothers. Even knowing that Mera is my closest ally, I volleyed with telling her what my siblings decreed. She’s like an alley cat, ready to let her claws out and defend what’s hers… and no doubt about it, she considers me hers. I worried that if I told her, she’d have us packed, snuck out, and we’d both be on the run. But even knowing she’d place herself in danger, refusing to leave my side, I decided to confide in her, even if I refuse to let her be on the chopping block with me.
“Six months,” she utters, going back to her tenacious routine of pacing. “We need a plan. A solid one.”
“We?” I ask, my brows drawn. “There’s nowein this scenario, Mera. This is dangerous.”
