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Everywhere my eyes fell was another reminder of pain, mistakes.
For God’s sake, we were in the bedroom where her father hurt her.
I pressed thumbs to my eyes, desperate to not imagine her being…
Breathe, texted Diesel
It made me wonder how closely I was being watched.
Dropping my hands, I tried to take a deep breath but choked my constricted lungs.
Pup, give yourselves time to face them ghosts
My eyes slammed shut again, only to see Mr. Stannon taking a bullet to the chest from me. Then my mind replayed Piercer’s body, jolting as bullets pummeled him.
The phone in my lap vibrated:
Look at your chest. Right now
Panting, with a pain that wasn’t making sense to me, I peered down to the tattoo on my bare chest. I stared at the eyes of ink that Dio gave me and the extended wings Diesel tatted on my skin—both men endowing me with parts of the two mothers who’d loved me.
They’re watching over you
I covered my mouth to not wake Rya as a sob gutted me. I guess I had been so worried for Rya’s mental wellbeing, I had completely ignored my own. Piercer is dead. The man Onus had forced to slice Anita’s throat. For years, I was forced to live with him as my fucking VP. I can’t believe he’s finally dead. I held my chest, hand on the tattoo, crying, My Ani, he’s dead.
A soft, little hand carefully laid on top of mine, clinging to my chest. Tears dripping down my face, I looked to Rya. She was my angel, so kind, so beautiful … and able to feel my pain as I could mystically feel hers.
Barely able to talk, I told her, “I hurt, baby.”
“I know.” She brushed hair from my sweating forehead then crawled into the hammock with me. Curled up on my stomach and nestled between my legs, she snuggled to my chest. “I know.”
Then a miracle happened. With every deep breath Rya took, my chest expanded, and with every exhale she slowly released, my lungs followed.
Peace beginning to take hold of me, I sighed, “I love you, Rya.”
She sighed, too. “You always have, Thunder.”
Her safe in my arms and me safe in hers, I calmed. Then I heard a voice from the past. Trust him.
I thought I had been trusting him, but the Voice made me realize I hadn’t, nor completely. I had not been letting him help more. Truth was, no matter the wisdom I collected over all of my abuse-filled years, I was only eighteen years old. And Rya, this majestic soul in my embrace, wise beyond her years, was only sixteen.
We needed help.
Running my fingers through her wild and free blonde hair, I typed three words on the burner phone:
I need you
???
I woke to the morning sun and the smell of freshly cooked bacon. “Ry?” I called out when finding my arms empty.
The hammock was left swinging as I scuttled out the bedroom door. Flying down the stairs, I yelled, “Rya? Chubs? Roamer?” Not only was receiving no reply scary, but the front door was wide open.
Then I heard, from quite a distance, my little goddess scream.
Grabbing a gun from the small table next to the front door, I took off running, barefoot, in only jeans. “Ry!” I roared, praying I’d get to her in time.
I kept looking to the trees to my right and left, not understanding why I wasn’t seeing Redemption Ryders running to where I was.
