by Violet Blaze
“No,” I say, and then I turn and start running up the hill as fast as I can, wishing like fucking hell that I'd worn my riding boots. Instead, Rayna convinced me to dress up and wear these stupid black flats with skulls on them, some damn leggings, and a midriff top in hot pink. I feel so underdressed as I dart into the darkness of the forest, the sound of pursuit hot on my heels. At least my ruse worked. If these guys want me that badly, they can't exactly stick around and fuck with my friends, now can they?
I kick my shoes off as I run, preferring a barefoot sprint across wet needles and shadow. The damn flats were just rubbing against my ankles and slipping in the slick mud of the forest floor.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
I try to pull my cell out as I run, but it slips from my fingers and falls to the ground; there's literally zero time for me to stop and pick it up.
I keep running, shouts ringing out in the trees behind me as the men divide and conquer. A quick glance over my shoulder shows one on the path and the other making a detour through the trees. Shit. I look straight ahead, blonde hair streaming behind me, the leather of Glacier's jacket rustling as I sprint full-out, feet slipping and sliding in the wet dirt. Thin, weak, fingers of moonlight penetrate the dark around me, killing my night vision, fucking me up even worse than the cold and the fear and the adrenaline.
The gun, at least, is still in my hand as I run, so I've got some sort of a backup plan. And these men, they haven't tried to shoot me yet. Either they want me for some sort of ransom or something, or they're just not good enough shots to hit me while I'm moving through shadows.
The path drops down in a set of built-in wooden stairs and I stumble, falling forward, pitching all the way down and landing with a grunt of pain on my knees, palms slamming into the ground. The nine mil goes flying, skidding through the mud and underneath the wooden fence that marks the pathway. Even with the sound of heavy boots behind me, I can hear it fall and tumble into the undergrowth.
“No.”
I look up, at the sea of darkness ahead of me, and have just enough time to turn onto my back before the first man, the one that spoke to me, descends the stairs and drops down on top of me, pinning me against the wet earth as I scream.
“You shut your white trash fucking mouth, bitch,” he spits as he jams the gun into the side of my skull. Doesn't matter. If he'd planned on shooting me, he'd have done it already. I scream louder and he raises the gun, hitting me across the face as I reach my nails up and rake them down his face. “Fuck!” he screams as we grapple and fight, and the second guy comes down the steps to stand next to us. “Pin her goddamn arms!” he screams, and then there's this awful feeling of helplessness as my wrists are snatched in cold hands and yanked backwards. “Jesus Christ.”
I keep fighting, kicking and thrashing, but the man on top of me has the benefit of gravity on his side. He swipes his hand down his face as I suck in another breath to scream and he hits me again, right in the side of my mouth, flooding my tongue with the bright heat of copper.
“Stupid fucking whore,” he snarls, wiping some more blood from his own face, bright red gashes down his skin visible even in the thready moonlight. “You're gonna goddamn regret that.”
His face when he grins down at me is an awful thing to look at.
He shove the gun inside my bloody, aching mouth and puts his finger on the trigger.
“Keep dicking around and see if I pull this trigger by accident,” he says, struggling to catch his breath from our run through the forest. “Be a good girl and maybe I'll replace this gun with my cock?”
I go stone still, mind whirring. There's a way out of this; there has to be.
“Now, where the fuck is your psycho husband?”
“He's right here.”
Glacier's voice is like … god, I can't even explain how good it sounds to me in that moment, that icy ribbon of hate that trickles through one ear and out the other, soothing me, making my body relax, even with the gun forced between my lips.
There's a sound behind me, and I flick my eyes back just in time to see Glacier's tattooed arms wrap around the second man's neck and snap it as easy as buttering bread.
The other guy lifts his weapon away from my mouth which is a big mistake because I take my now freed arms and grab his dick and balls through his pants, squeezing and twisting as hard as I can. His scream is cut short as he takes a random shot at my husband and hits his dead friend's body instead, slumped as it is against the wooden fence behind me.
Glacier climbs through at that precise moment, the blood from the dead man's corpse spattering his face in red as he throws his body at the first guy, knocking his uncomfortable weight off of me. I sit up and scoot away from the corpse, scrambling to my feet as Saint throws a hard punch at the man's face and hits him square in the nose. If he wanted this guy dead, the man would be already—but he needs him alive.
That makes things ten times harder.
I turn around and kneel down to dig through the dead dude's pockets, coming up with a semi-auto and rising back to my feet.
If Glacier said he'd kill gods for me, can you imagine what he's going to do to a man?
Their fight travels back, into the trunk of a tree, and I see in a faint flicker of moonlight Saint's hand dipping under his cut, coming up with a hammer. Most of the boys carry them around because there's nothing illegal about a hammer, and it's something the cops can't get on their asses for. Before the agreement Lyric drafted between the city and the club, brothers would get picked up all the time for shit as stupid as having a gun under their cut and not having a concealed carry permit. Things are better now, but still, a lot of the guys keep the hammer on them.
I hear a rustling sound in the bushes and turn to find another man staring up at me from down the curved pathway that leads off of the steps. He's clearly not wearing a cut, and he's not a cop, so as soon as he lifts a gun up and points it at me, I shoot him in the chest. It's the widest, easiest spot to hit, so it just happens and he ends up stumbling back, a slight flash of red across his mouth as he passes through a stream of moonlight and slumps against the dirt wall at his back. Then he collapses and goes still.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper, my voice quivering as I turn and find Saint with one hand on either of the cartel guy's wrists, using sheer brute strength to wrestle his arms back. In a flash of movement, he lifts his knee and hits the man hard in the nuts, dropping his wrists and then throwing a sickeningly hard punch at his face. When the man collapses and falls to his knees, Glacier follows him down and starts to beat the ever living fuck out of him.
But he needs him alive.
“Saint!” I yell as I scramble up the steps and over to where my new husband is pummeling in a man's face for me. It'd be … almost romantic if I wasn't worried sick over my friends, desperate to get back to them. A radio crackles at Saint's waist and I yank it off, glancing back at the wooden signage nailed to the fence.
“We're on Lost Coast Trail North,” I breathe and then I toss the radio aside and grab Saint's face in my hand. “That's enough,” I whisper and just like that … his frenzy stops in its tracks and he sits back, blood speckling his hands, soaking his knuckles and his silver wedding band. “It's okay, Saint.”
There's the sound of brush rustling and Glacier rises to his feet, his blue eyes flashing silver in the dim light. Before I can even really register what the hell is happening, he swings his crossbow over his shoulder and buries a bolt into some guy's neck.
Glacier turns to face me, his expression this icy mask of fury as he cups my face in both of his bloody hands.
“Are you alright?” he asks and I shake my head.
“Loren and Otto—” I start and he cuts me off.
“We heard on the police scanner; one of the neighbors already called the cops. There's an ambulance down there now.”
“I need to see them,” I say and feel a rush of hot tears at the corners of my eyes.
“You need to tell the cops what happened,” he
whispers against my mouth, pressing our foreheads together. “Do you know what you need to say?”
“Three guys came at us; they shot my friends.” I close my eyes and struggle to pull in a breath. “I shot back; it was self-defense. Then I started running and they chased me.” I pause again as the sound of sirens echoes in the distance. “There was a struggle, but they heard the sirens and ran off, and I lost them in the woods.”
“Good,” Glacier says, pressing us close, one hand on the back of my head, the other holding his crossbow. “That's good.”
His head snaps up suddenly and he hand cocks the bow, loading a bolt from the quiver on his hip. A few seconds later, I hear the distant thundering of boots and brush, but it's just Royal and Smoky and … Dad.
“Bleeding hell,” Royal says and then a few more Alpha Wolves appear from the darkness. My dad and I lock eyes across the forest floor, and I know that even from there he can see the blood and dirt, the slight sheen of tears on my cheeks. He glances away, and the Wolves' president wastes no time getting out his orders. The guys have minutes at most before one of the cops finds us in here. “Get the bodies out of here and dump 'em. Smoky, escort Mr. Razo back to my truck and get him ready for Agent Shelley. I want him trussed up like a goddamn pig.”
“There's a gun,” I say quietly, my voice dampened by moss and wet ferns and dirt. “Just over the edge there, underneath the sign. I need it.”
It's my dad who tromps into the brush and shines a flashlight from his belt into the gloom. When he finds the nine mil, he lifts it up and hands it over to Royal who wipes it clean with a rag from his pocket and passes it back to me. He gives me the rag, too, and Glacier helps me get some of the blood off my face.
“Go back and talk to the cops,” Royal tells me, not unsympathetically but definitely in full president mode now. “Glacier.”
“I've got it, Boss,” he snaps as he turns me around and starts leading me back through the woods. I pause for a second and glance over my shoulder, looking for my dad's face. He's staring after me and for a split second there our eyes meet, but then he glances away sharply and helps one of his brothers pick up the man I shot in the chest.
Glacier slides his arm around my waist with a possessiveness and a care that makes my eyes water again and I lean close, letting the warmth of his body ripple through me. Now that I have a minute to think, I realize my teeth are chattering and I'm freezing cold. My feet feel like they're coated in ice.
“I'll be right here,” he promises, “watching. As soon as I get the chance, I'll get you and take you home.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head, looking up at him, at his beautiful eyes and the gorgeous fall of golden hair across his brow. “You have club business to take care of.”
“For what they're doing, they don't need me. You do.”
And then he turns and disappears into the woods just a split second before I hear voices and turn back to see several cops jogging towards me with their guns out. I toss mine to the forest floor and wait for them to stumble on me, pointing their weapons my way before they figure out that I'm just another one of those kids.
And then they escort me back to a waiting ambulance and take me on a ride to the hospital.
They give me two stitches on the side of my mouth and three on my forehead where the gun hit me the first time. It hurts, but I don't care, sitting there in antsy anticipation, desperate to see Loren and Otto. I'm seriously about this fucking close to punching the doctor when Glacier strolls in, completely clean and wearing his cut and a fresh black t-shirt, like he was never a part of anything that happened in those woods.
I watch him through the crack in the curtain, hear him tell someone he's my husband, see him get a totally fucked-up look from a nurse. Glacier ignores her and pushes into the little pseudo room around the bed I'm sitting on, made up by a shitty curtain and nothing else. I hate ERs.
“Serenity,” he whispers, taking me in his arms and pulling me against him. When he does that, I can absolutely hear his heart. It's beating so frantically, it sounds like a bird in panicked flight, wings flapping wildly. Glacier kisses a spot near the stitches on my forehead and ignores the doctor when he tries to talk to him about a possible concussion. But at least the man's actually speaking to him. I've spent the last hour and a half trying to tell these people that rather than calling my parents, we should call my husband. Clearly, they look at me like I must be pregnant or something—and they look at Glacier like he's a monster.
I hate them all a little bit in that moment.
“Are you keeping her here then?” Glacier asks, his voice as cold as steel. “Or can we go?”
The doctor finally gives up and lets Saint escort me out and down the hall, where I practically sprint to Loren's mom and throw myself into her arms.
“Please tell me he's alive,” I whisper, because I know Otto is. I saw his dad on my way in here, and the shot to his arm was through and through. He doesn't even have to spend the night in this stupid place.
“He's alive,” she tells me, her voice thick with tears. “There was damage to his kidney and his liver, but he's in surgery now and they say he should be fine.” I nod and lean back, the sweet floral scent of Loren's mother's perfume wafting around me. If she notices the ring on my finger or Glacier standing at my back, she doesn't make mention of it. Maybe she just doesn't fucking care?
Me, all I can think about is that night my mother got shot and how screwed up that was.
Mom got shot; Loren got shot.
I killed two people tonight.
“I'm staying here with you,” I promise her, taking her hand and glancing over my shoulder to look at Glacier. He nods his chin just enough to acknowledge my unasked question, moving over to the row of chairs in the lobby area to sit down and wait.
Later, I sit down next to him and rest my head on his shoulder.
“Keep me awake no matter what?” I ask, and he glances down at me, reaching up to run his knuckles along the side of my face before nodding briefly. “I just … want to be here when Loren gets out of surgery.”
“Whatever you ask, I'll fucking do,” Glacier promises as he pulls me tightly against him.
It's a shitty night because I refuse to allow myself any sleep, so basically I cuddle up to Glacier and start to drift off, feel him gently nudge me awake every few minutes and start the process all over again. The only good part of that whole night is feeling his warmth seep into me, listening to the gentle beat of his heart.
I don't leave until morning, until Loren's safely resting after his surgery and I know for certain he won't die if I go home. A doctor checks me out one last time, but decides I probably don't have a concussion and lets me go.
Glacier takes me outside, opens the door to Royal's red truck and helps me climb in.
I'm asleep before we even pull out of the parking lot.
Saint lets me sleep straight through the day, my eyes cracking open well after dark, a window open next to the bed. The cool ocean breeze sneaks in and teases me awake, encouraging me to sit up. As soon as I do, I regret it, groaning in pain and reaching up to gingerly touch my stitches. God. My whole face just fucking hurts.
I close my eyes for a moment and try not to think about the man shoving his gun into my mouth like he was violating me and threatening to shoot me at the same time. The thought just makes me sick to my stomach.
When I open my eyes, Glacier's standing in the doorway staring back at me.
“Serenity,” he says, moving over to the bed and crawling into it, pulling my body close to his, curling around me like he's guarding me. It's nice, actually. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” I say and Saint gives me a tight smile, his eyes icy but starting to melt as he stares at me. “The last twenty-four hours … no, make that the last forty-eight hours are like a blur.” I stiffen up and then try to untangle myself from Glacier to get to my phone. That is, if anyone actually found my phone on the forest floor last night.
“I pick
ed it up after the cops left,” Saint says, like he can read my damn mind. “Loren is fine; he's awake,” he tells me, his breath warm against my ear. “His mother called your phone earlier and I answered for you.”
“He's awake?” I ask and Saint nods, pressing his face against my neck.
“She says you can visit him tomorrow, if you want.”
I close my eyes and run my hands down my face, feeling my body start to quiver and shake with carefully repressed adrenaline and fear. I almost lost my childhood friend last night. He easily could've died. We all could've died out there. Visiting hours are tomorrow? Damn straight I'll fucking be there. I'd go tonight if I could.
“Jesus Christ, Serenity,” Glacier whispers after a minute, giving me the chills all over my skin. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“How did you know where to find me?” I ask, letting him pull me back into the nest of blankets. The room is dark, that single candle on the nightstand the only light other than what's leaking in from the hallway. It really hits me hard right then that I'm actually going to be living here. But I'm not unhappy about it. It's just going to take some getting used to.
“We stopped by the cemetery house and I saw that someone had been there.” Glacier's voice is cold enough to give me the chills, so I cuddle closer, curl tighter against him and let myself feel safe. Shit went down and I fought back as best I could. And I think I actually put up a pretty damn good fight. But my beast, he was also there like he said he would be, protecting me with his monster. “I knew then that he'd probably seen us together.” He grits his teeth a little as I run a hand down his arm and burrow into him. “He probably saw you wearing my fucking colors and came after you.”
“You're not blaming yourself for this, are you?” I reach down to touch Saint's chin and his tattooed hand snaps up and grabs my wrist in a firm grip, squeezing tight. “Please, don't. I knew who you were when I got involved. Hell, the first night we had sex, I was dealing with this same bullshit. Saint, I've been putting up with club crap my whole life. Things happen. Fuck, things happen to people who aren't involved in this stuff. People get mugged, murdered, beaten, raped. But at least I know that here, there are people that are on my side. That's one good thing about the club, having an entire army that'll fight for me.”