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Goddamn it.
“You can stay and watch,” Zander was telling Scotty. “Or you can leave. Whatever you want, however you feel, know that it is absolutely the right decision for you.”
Vince stepped closer, placing a hand on Scotty’s shaking shoulder and squeezing gently. “And we’ll support you.” He lifted his gaze to Zander’s. “Always.”
“I want—” Scotty cleared his throat. “I want to stay.”
Vince pressed a kiss to his ear. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I want to stay.”
“Then you stay.” Zander nodded, releasing him. “And you watch.” He stepped up to the man who was stirring, whimpering, and tipped his head back with a finger under his chin.
Eyes almost swollen shut blinked open, struggling to focus. “Sc-Scotty? Scotty, is that you? H-help! H-help me.”
Vince wrapped both arms around Scotty from behind. “Focus on me,” he whispered to the younger man. “Focus on Zander. Focus on us.” He wasn’t normally the kind of man who did this. He didn’t sit idly by or willingly participate in the death of another human being. But he was beginning to learn that those lines he’d so clearly drawn in the sand had become smudged.
They weren’t as starkly defined as they’d once been.
The man begging for his life as Zander pointed a gun at his head? That man was scum and Vince wanted his death after what he’d done to Scotty. He approved of the fucker’s execution.
And he didn’t flinch when the gun went off. One bullet to the forehead and Scotty’s tormentor was dead. He felt that release in his chest and knew Scotty had to have felt it, too, because his knees gave out.
Vince went to the floor with him. Then Zander was there, the two of them wrapping Scotty up in their arms while he bawled.
22
Scotty cried until he was empty. Until he had nothing left. And then he allowed Zander and Vince to carry him from the dungeon slash basement back to their room, where they laid him on the bed and climbed in with him. They didn’t speak, and he had yet to find the words to describe the jumbled mess that was his emotions.
His uncle was dead.
So many times he’d fantasized about it, about killing Don, wishing he could be brave enough to do it but accepting that he wasn’t. Zander had killed him, for Scotty. Because he wanted to protect Scotty. His eyes burned and he rolled into Zander, burying his face in his throat and just clinging to him. Vince was at Scotty’s back, stroking his shoulder, murmuring soothing words that warmed Scotty’s chest.
They were strangers, these two men, and yet in the span of a night that lasted two whole lifetimes, they’d become so much more. He couldn’t find words for the relief in his chest, knowing Don wasn’t around anymore. Knowing he wouldn’t have to see his uncle’s face on TV or hear his voice and be transported back to the worst moments of his life.
Don had been a true monster but he was gone now. Scotty didn’t cry for him, didn’t grieve for him, but he grieved for his mother. For himself. For all the things he’d had to endure under Don.
“He’s gone,” he muttered. A shudder worked its way through his body. “He’s gone.” That was wonderment in his voice, maybe even some disbelief, too, because he’d always figured Don would outlive him. Don was invincible. Don was untouchable. But he wasn’t. He just hadn’t met Zander yet.
“He’s gone,” Vince confirmed in his ear. “He’s gone and you’re here because you’re stronger than what he did to you.”
But Scotty didn’t feel strong. He felt weak and drained and desperate for comfort. He pressed deeper into Zander’s chest and the same hand that had pulled the trigger, ending Don’s life, cupped the back of Scotty’s head, fingers tugging on his hair gently. He tipped his head back, staring into Zander’s eyes.
“Are you okay?” The question vibrated against the palm Scotty had on Zander’s chest.
He nodded at the question. “Yes. I’m okay.” He didn’t ask about Don’s body and how Zander would take care of it to ensure he didn’t get caught—Don had been the mayor after all. Zander obviously wasn’t new to violence or killing and getting away with it. He knew what he was doing and Scotty trusted that and him.
At his back, Vince crowded into him until Scotty was caught between them, held tight by their bodies and drowning in the warmth of their skin. This was his favorite place, he realized. In between them with no chance of getting away unless and until they allowed it.
A smile made his lips twitch and he hummed low in his throat, a sound of appreciation as he returned his forehead to Zander’s chest and closed his eyes. He was tired and he needed a little rest. He had no doubt they would be right there with him when he woke up.
Hushed voices brought Scotty out of his sleep and he inhaled deeply, opening his eyes and blinking up at the ceiling. He lay on his back, but Zander and Vince weren’t in the bed with him. They were over by the door—arguing, he gathered, based on their body language and the stubborn set of Zander’s jaw as Vince jabbed a finger into his chest.
What the hell?
Scotty sat up, rubbing his eye with a fist. “What’s going on?”
They stopped and turned to him. Vince was clearly upset, but Zander was harder to read. “Zander?”
