Heart of Ice

by P. Jameson

  “She’ll be fine,” Felix muttered. “She’s with the Firecat.”

  What was the Firecat?

  Skye got to her feet and he and Fang got ready to help her over.

  “The electric?” she managed.

  “Turned off,” Felix grunted. He reached out, grabbing a hold of the iron rails to prove his point. “See? It’s safe.”

  Skye nodded and let him and Fang toss her over. She landed in a heap on the rocks on the other side. But she didn’t stay there. She stood, staring through the bars of the fence.

  Staring at Vegas.

  At Janet.

  Trying to convey something…

  Regret. An apology.

  Shit.

  Vegas shook her head. “No, Skye. Don’t.”

  “Tell Seven I’m sorry.”

  “No.”

  “I have to,” she whispered, desperate tears rolling down her cheeks. “If he finds me… I’ll always be his… can’t… I can’t be his anymore.”

  She took a step backward, a twig snapping under her bare foot.

  “Don’t run,” Felix hissed. His eyes were flashing with barely controlled fury. “Don’t you fucking dare run.”

  But she did.

  Twisting, she took off in a sprint until she disappeared into the darkness. And Vegas strangled down a scream as Felix catapulted over the fence, chasing after her.

  “Shit,” Fang spat.

  A sound from behind brought everyone’s attention back around. Ratchet and Nyla clamored through the trees, coming to a stop at the fence.

  “Where’s Felix?” he asked.

  “And Skye?” Nyla followed.

  Fang slammed his fist on the fence. “Fuck. She made a run for it. Got her over the fence and she ran.”

  Ratchet looked deadly. “You were supposed to wait for us.”

  Fang threw a hand in cigarette-guy’s direction. “Blame it on Smokes.”

  “Fuck you,” Smokes growled. “This one’s sick. We needed to get moving.”

  Ratchet threw his hands up. “Okay, okay. We can figure it out back at the warehouse. Let’s get them over the fence and find Felix and the other one. We’re running out of time.”

  Fang climbed the fence and waited on the other side while the other two men got ready to lift Janet over.

  Smokes hesitated, tossing his unlit cigarette into the nearby bushes. He stared hard at Janet. “You don’t run. Understand me? Don’t. Run.”

  She nodded, eyes bleary, and they hefted her up.

  “That’s my favorite goddamn jacket,” he muttered under his breath.

  Vegas was next. She felt so weak she wasn’t sure she’d make it over the eight-foot-high monstrosity. But she did, half landing on Fang.

  “Where’s Monster?” she asked as soon as she caught her breath.

  “He stayed behind,” Ratchet explained as Smokes climbed the fence and landed next to her. “To throw Bastian off our trail. He’ll catch up with us later.”

  Vegas pressed her lips together. Was it safe for Monster to stay? Bastian would blame him for this. Even if they gave him some reason to think the Junkyard Dogs did it. Monster’s only purpose in the boss’s operation was to guard the Dolls. And she knew exactly what happened when you no longer served a purpose.

  Ratchet grabbed Nyla around the waist and lifted her high enough for her to grab the top of the solid fence. But when she did, a horrible buzz resounded in the darkness and she and Ratchet both went ramrod stiff.

  “Shit, the fence,” Smokes growled.

  But somehow Ratchet managed to pull them both free of the electric hold.

  Nyla cried out as soon as her voice unlocked and collapsed to the ground at Ratchet’s feet.

  “Fuck,” he snarled, and something strange happened. Vegas could have sworn she saw fire lick at his fingertips. Real fire. Flames. At his fingers.

  She blinked and it was gone.

  She was hungry and delirious. That’s all.

  Ratchet pushed at something near his ear. “Skittles, damn it. The fence is hot. Cut it.” He was quiet for a breath. “What do you mean you can’t?” His face paled as he stared over at Nyla. “Aw, shit.”

  Nyla’s face crumpled to despair. As if she knew what was being said in Ratchet’s ear.

  “What? What is it?” Vegas screeched.

  But no one answered.

  Ratchet continued speaking into his earpiece. “We’re not all across the fence.” Pause. “One left. And me.” Pause. “Yours,” Ratchet spoke quietly. “Fuck, man. Fuck. Okay.”

  He ripped the wire from his ear and tossed it over the fence to Fang.

  “What’s the plan?”

  Ratchet didn’t answer except to mutter out, “Can’t do what I need to do with him roaring in my fucking ear.”

  Vegas held her middle hoping like hell Ratchet and whoever was in his ear knew what to do. Because they weren’t leaving Nyla behind.

  She threw a glance at Janet and knew she was thinking the same thing.

  Ratchet helped Nyla off the ground. Her limbs shook but she looked steadier than she should. “Listen to me, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to put myself against the fence. You climb my back, get on my shoulders and jump. Use me to clear the top. Smokes will catch you. Understand?”

  Nyla squinted. “It won’t work. Unless you’re made of rubber, we’ll both be fried.”

  “I’m made of something better than rubber,” Ratchet muttered. “It’ll be fine. Just hurry, got it?”

  She shook her head. “This is crazy.”

  “It’s our only option. You’ll have to trust me.”

  “Why would you do this?”

  “I can’t explain right now. We need to hurry.”

  “I don’t think I can—”

  “Of course you can,” he interrupted, getting close to the fence. “On three. Make it fast.”

  And then he didn’t wait for her to argue.

  Ratchet jumped, catching the top of the fence with his palms. He went stiff and the horrifying sound of electricity sizzling split the night.

  Janet slapped a hand over her mouth, struggling to keep things together. And Vegas shook so bad she thought she’d shatter to pieces like some destroyed ice sculpture. Her stomach twisted as Nyla’s hand made contact with Ratchet’s shoulders, fully expecting her to be jolted.

  But oddly, nothing happened. No transfer of electricity.

  Lids peeled wide with shock, Nyla climbed onto Ratchet’s back.

  “Hurry,” he gritted, his eyes… glowing?

  Vegas blinked, trying to clear her vision. But the eerie shade of his eyes didn’t change.

  She stepped closer to the fence staring up at him through the bars. He met her gaze, clearly in pain. And that’s when she saw it.

  Tiny orange flames in his irises. So small they could be hidden if they weren’t in the dark. But not only that… they were spreading.

  “Get… back…” he groaned.

  “Shit, hurry!” Fang roared.

  “I’m trying,” Nyla cried. “He’s very…” she whimpered, stretching to reach Smokes’s arms over the fence “… hot. He’s burning hot. What is happening?”

  “Jump!” Smokes bellowed.

  “I can’t!”

  Nyla jerked her hand back to reveal the sleeve of her shirt had caught on fire.

  “Holy shit,” Smokes cursed.

  But that was the last thing any of them had a chance to say. Because in the next moment, Ratchet exploded, sending Nyla tumbling to the ground with a shriek.

  Vegas scrambled backward until something hard stopped her. It was Fang. Or maybe a tree. Hell, it didn’t matter because she must be dying. She was probably still lying under the bed, fading away.

  Must be.

  Because what she saw made no sense.

  Ratchet was burning, flames shooting out of his body. Except, it wasn’t his body anymore. It was… he was… an animal?

  Brother, something in her mind whis
pered, but nothing made sense.

  “What the…”

  “Fuck,” Fang finished for her. “Don’t worry. He’s on our side.”

  “What?”

  Fang stepped around her to ease closer to the fence.

  Vegas blinked again, but the curious beast before her didn’t change back to a man.

  Nyla crab-walked backward, trying to escape the blaze before patting her sleeve out.

  Smokes had Janet by the arm.

  Fang stared at burning Ratchet seeming more annoyed than shocked.

  Nyla stood, fumbling to brace herself on a nearby tree. “What… what is he?”

  “What’s he look like?” Fang drawled.

  “A burning lion.”

  “Yeahhh, that’s the gist of it.”

  “This isn’t funny!” she fumed. “This is… this is…”

  “…happening. Don’t make it weird.”

  Ratchet growled low. It seemed like a warning to Fang.

  “I’m thinking his animal tried to absorb the energy from the fence,” Fang mused, ignoring him. “But it forced out the Firecat instead. Well, shit. I guess five thousand volts will do that to a man. Cat. Inferno. Whatever.”

  “A man?” Nyla whispered, backing farther into the shadows. “Marlee sent you for us? That’s what you said. But… she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t send Bastian’s own men for us.”

  “We’re not Bastian’s men,” Smokes grated.

  “We’re trying to help,” Fang spat, “but hell if I know why.”

  There was another unsettled rumble from the flaming lion. The Firecat, she realized, recalling Felix’s words from earlier.

  Ratchet pressed his burning body low to the ground and bowed his head in Nyla’s direction. Then he went still… waiting…

  “I don’t trust you.”

  But Vegas did. Somehow, she did. Call it instinct, but something deep and buried inside felt… safe with the lion. With the crude men. Whatever. It didn’t make sense, but what part of her life ever had?

  “I can’t… I can’t get over the fence, can I?”

  “No.” This time Fang’s voice was resigned. Void of twisted humor.

  “I have to go back, don’t I?” Nyla’s voice shook, and Fang nodded, looking at the ground.

  Guilt, Vegas recognized. He felt guilty.

  “No!” Janet cried. “We can’t leave her!”

  Leave her? No. No.

  Vegas opened her mouth to argue—

  “We’ll come back for her.” There was a rustle from the trees behind them and Felix emerged, dragging Skye along. “She’s ours,” he said darkly, “and we always get what’s ours.” He gave a jerk to Skye’s arm to emphasize his point.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Vegas let out a sob so hard she lost her breath.

  They were here, free. They were finally free… and Nyla was trapped.

  Fate was sick.

  It was twisted and sick.

  How could they walk away and leave one of their own to return to the dungeon? How.

  Nyla would be alone without them.

  Bastian would take out his frustration on her only.

  She’d have no one to comfort her.

  “It should be me,” Vegas cried, finding number Seven’s eyes through the charged bars of the fence. “It should be me. I was the first one. I was his from the beginning. I should be the one trapped behind that fence.”

  Tears streaked down Nyla’s dark cheeks as she dug deep into Vegas’s gaze. “No, One,” she whispered, but it might as well have been shouted across the night. “You’ve suffered the longest. It’s your turn to be free. Now go. Go.”

  Vegas shook her head, unable to swallow down the knot in her throat, and let Fang pull her away.

  The last thing she saw as they disappeared into the woods was a ferocious burning beast clearing the top of Bastian’s fence.

  Chapter Nine

  Dear Eddy,

  There was a scourge today. On Felix. I thought we were too young for that. Even Mama Kitty said so. But the Fathers decided it was time, and Felix should be first since he will take over as leader someday. It hurt my stomach to watch. But then I had to cut him. We all did. We had to take the skin of his back, a portion of it to show him we own him. I made the smallest cut possible. Now I can’t sleep because all I can hear is his screaming in my ears when the knife went in. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that sound. Ever.

  I’m sorry,

  Monster

  ***

  The sun was rising over Memphis as Monster pulled into the lot of Alley Cat Waste Management. He drove his truck past the rows of dump trucks and empty waste bins until he found a spot close to the door.

  This was it.

  This was the moment he’d been waiting for ever since he first locked eyes with Vegas as she peeked out from beneath the basement bed, curious about the new security guard Bastian had hired.

  The moment where she was no longer a captive and he could tell her that everything he’d pretended to be, all the ugly things he’d said, all of it was to protect her.

  He drew in a sharp breath and shut off the ignition.

  How would she take it? Would it be very hard to show her he was better than the monster she’d come to know? Could he be gentle enough with her? Would she even want to look at him at all now that she had a choice?

  Monster pressed his scarred lips together.

  If she wanted away from him, he didn’t know how he’d ever grant her wish. Just the idea had his hands shaking.

  Please don’t let her hate me.

  Or maybe he’d just lost too much blood. It’d been a while since he’d been this torn up. And before, he’d had his animal to bear the brunt of it, and to heal him some.

  He stared down at the wound Ratchet left him with. It had gone a long way to convincing Bastian this wasn’t completely Monster’s fault. Though, he definitely considered Monster a failure of a guard. His last words were, “Get the fuck outta here before I kill your useless ass. Tell Felix the Alley Cats are on my shit list. Your people will pay for this.”

  Yeah, Monster didn’t much care about that threat. His people had already paid more to Bastian than they ever should have. In money and blood.

  That shit was changing.

  Monster reached for a fresh shirt he’d stuffed in the glove box. Black, to cover up the blood still oozing from the claw marks. Yanking his torn one over his head, he used it to dab at the wound before he tossed it in the floorboard and pulled the new one on.

  He avoided the reflection of his side mirror as he stepped from his vehicle. Better not to be reminded of what Vegas would see when he walked in.

  He was across the gravel in no time, and yanking open the door to step inside…

  And right into fucking chaos.

  Monster drew up short as the door slammed shut behind him. Ratchet and Skittles faced off in the center of a crowd of people. It looked like they were about to come to blows.

  What the fuck.

  “You should have done more,” Skittles seethed. They were practically chest to chest, his fists pumping like he was barely keeping them in check. “I want your skin.”

  Ratchet was primed to pounce, but the expression on his face was rattled. “I did everything I could. I fucking tried. As if she was my own.”

  “You wouldn’t have left your own.” With that, Skittles lunged at Ratchet, taking him down to the ground.

  Female screams ricocheted around the warehouse as the two men rolled on the floor in a snarl of growls and hits, and the clan roared their approval.

  Monster scanned the room, trying to understand what was happening.

  Felix was on the stairs, looking down on the brawl with a satisfied smirk.

  Vegas… his female was there, huddled in a corner with the others, Mama Kitty, and Marlee. Monster swallowed hard, emotion clogging his throat at the sight of her here, anywhere other than the basement. But he pushed it down. He needed to stop the only t
wo others who cared about the Dolls before they ripped each other apart.

  That’s when it hit Monster.

  The only reason Skittles and Ratchet would be fighting was if…

  Monster’s gaze raked the group of females. Vegas, Janet, Skye.

  No Nyla.

  Oh shit.

  Everything inside him sank.

  Monster stomped across the room, tossing riled males out of his way until he reached the two that mattered. He grabbed Skittles by the back collar of his denim vest and used all his strength to yank him off of Ratchet, who could win this fight with a hiss of his Firecat but was barely giving it any effort.

  But Skittles didn’t stop swinging. This time at Monster. He landed a solid fist to Monster’s sternum, sending him backwards into the crowd. Right where he’d been clawed. Goddamn, it hurt. Someone caught him—Fang—and pushed him back into the brawl.

  “Knock it off!” Monster roared, finally getting Skittles’s attention as Ratchet pulled himself off the ground.

  Skittles stared at him, eyes crazed, breath chugging. “They left her. They left mine. Left her there. With that sick fucking bastard.”

  Fuck.

  Monster swung his disbelieving gaze to Ratchet.

  “We didn’t have a choice. The electric to the fence came back on before we got her across. I tried to absorb the shock but my Firecat came out and burned her. There was nothing I could do. Fuck, there was nothing… We’ll get her back,” he promised.

  But Skittles hissed out, “I will never forgive this. Never.” He found Felix. “I want his skin. Now.”

  No. Not a scourge. Not like this. And in front of the Dolls who’d already seen so much horror in their time with Bastian.

  There were so many reasons not to perform the horrid punishment ritual all the clan had partaken of, and Monster was desperate to leave this part of their life behind. Cutting was the worst. He could barely stand to do it. Scarring someone the way he’d been done, it was like betraying himself over and over again.

  They didn’t need to do this anymore. They didn’t need revenge to feed their blackened souls.

  They didn’t need to lord their power over a brother because he’d fucked up. And maybe Monster was the only one with scars on his face, but they all had too many of them, inside and out.

  And they started long ago with the first scourge. Their first training.