‘You saw what you we wanted you to see. Euan was forced to fight to prove a point. Enact justice,’ she retorted.
Nick surged up, his hands in his hair, his eyes to the ceiling. ‘You’re trying to tell me that Mickey-O is the good guy? The one man single-handedly trying to save humanity?’
Lily’s answer was immediate. ‘Yes.’
Nick swore. He shifted to focus on Kira. His gorgeous living fairy. Unconcealed confusion creased her brow, her blue eyes darted between an irate Lily and himself. Her hair was still messed where Euan’s fingers had pull at it in his passion. Fuck, she probably still had the remainder of his essence between her thighs. He couldn’t fathom the things that had happened to Lily happening to his girl. He couldn’t comprehend Kira being so tormented that she thought her only option was to take her own life.
Even if Mickey-O was the hero, even if everything Lily said was true, Parker and Rodgers, now known as Death and the Reaper, were the two very same men who had raped and tortured him. They had destroyed Smith’s body and soul. They had committed atrocities on the skinny woman in front of him.
They still lived.
In that moment, he understood Euan’s motives, as much as he damn well hated what he’d done.
Lily sat back in her chair; her efforts had exhausted her. Her face was drawn when she whispered. ‘It doesn’t matter now anyway. We’re locked in here. Euan is probably walking right into the clutches of Death and the Reaper with a wounded John in tow. There is nothing we can do about it.’
It was then Kira piped up. ‘I’m not so sure about that.’
Chapter 20
Euan’s regret was an infection that poisoned his blood. Every step further away from Nick and Kira was one more laceration inside his soul. Another noxious contagion that burrowed into his body. He was being torn apart, destroyed by a virus of his own creation. They’d given him treasures beyond the comprehension of mortals. The love they’d shown him, bestowed upon him, eclipsed the glory of heaven. He didn’t give a single fuck what was beyond death now, because he had witnessed and experienced the true meaning of life. He had been humbled by them, the utter and profound exquisiteness of their presence, their involvement and determination to see him happy.
And he’d thrown it all in their face. They would open their eyes this morning to an empty bed and a scribble he’d kept close to his heart ever since he’d drawn it months ago. It was a cowardly goodbye, and he knew it.
They would too.
The moon hung low. Its presence cut through the trees. It created shades of black and white against the mottled bark of the trees. The mist that came from his breath glowed with its light. The forest remained hushed in their wake.
In front of him, Smith stumbled. He caught himself on a nearby tree, puffed three times before he pulled his shoulders back and carried on.
The curl in Euan’s lip was involuntary.
What had he become? A man who pushed boys past their endurance limit in the search of, what? More blood, more death, more suffering? He was a bastard. Worse than a bastard. He’d betrayed Nick and Kira, he was torturing Smith, and he was destroying himself for the sake of vengeance.
He almost stopped. He almost turned and walked back the way they’d come. Trudge back through frost-dusted leaves. Stamp over moss-covered boulders and stones. Traverse under the sparse canopy of naked oaks and silent tall pines. Follow a cloud of mist and staggered boot prints.
But he didn’t. This road was paved with bone and flesh. It was a path that required sacrifice, pain and suffering to travel. But it would be complete. As much as his heart and soul lamented it.
To distract himself from the miserable ache in his chest, he spoke. ‘You related to Mickey-O too?’
Smith’s figure was only a smudge of black against a midnight backdrop. Dawn was not a long way off, but the sky was still dotted with millions of pinpricks of light. Between them and the waxing moon, it was enough to light their way. ‘No,’ came the breathless reply.
Euan would have let it go. Talking consumed Smith’s energy, more than he had to lose. He should have forced the boy to stay behind.
Smith’s mumble dragged him from his thoughts. ‘He found me in a jail cell.’
Euan stopped. ‘A jail cell?’
There was no humour in Smith’s voice even as he continued. ‘I’d lost my mum. I used to play in a band and she’d watched my last gig. Caught the plague from the crowd. I … didn’t.’
Euan was silent as Smith panted before he continued. His steps slowed as he concentrated on his trajectory as well as his words. ‘It took her longer to die than most. But by then we knew what was going to happen. She made us stay at home. She knew there was no hope for her in the hospital.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Euan murmured. His hand reached out to take Smith’s shoulder, only to pull back as the boy moved out of his reach. His clenched fist fell to his side.
‘It was just the two of us, so when she … passed, I lost it. Went out, trashed things, looted, was part of the riots. I beat on anyone I could. The military was still in charge then. I was put in the internment camp for it. Then everyone in the camp either died or abandoned it. Including the soldiers.’
‘Christ.’ The noise of the leaves being crushed underneath their feet seemed overly loud. ‘And Mickey-O?’
Smith cleared his throat. ‘Came to the camp to steal the weapons. Found me, knocking on the door to hell. Dehydration, he’d said. I can’t remember it really. Was too far gone. I woke up in the back of a truck with Lily and her brothers.’
Euan swallowed. ‘You’ve been with them ever since?’
There was a long pause. ‘Yeah.’
‘And the false name?’ Euan asked quietly.
Smith picked up his pace, trudged forward with renewed vigour. ‘I wanted my mum to be the last person to say the real one,’ he told Euan, with only a hint of the true pain such a confession created.
It seemed too short a time before the trees began to thin and the light on the horizon spread. The land gradually descended and in the distance, Euan could make out the fence line that ran along the side of the highway, the final marker to Kira’s family’s immense property. The road snaked it way down the valley and through an open plain. After being surrounded by trees, the exposed grassland gave Euan a sense of finality.
When his focus stilled on the wrought-iron gate that would have once been a grand entrance to a grand home, he was blindsided by a flash of memory. Nick’s smile, the first he’d seen since the young man had been attacked by the men they now hunted. It had brightened his face with an infectious light. It had disarmed Euan’s senses, shoved past rational reasoning and encouraged Euan to follow green eyes down an overrun driveway.
He considered what might have happened to them, to Kira, if he had not been so infatuated and decided the risk was too great.
It was a thought that caused his stomach to contract.
He shook himself and said, ‘Let’s keep moving.’
***
They walked the highway. The native birds warbled their sunrise songs as the dawn lengthened into early morning. The rolling mist dispelled and the evergreen undergrowth emerged. It encroached the edges of the tarmac, while the leaves from the deciduous trees covered the black. Gold, red and brown was now the colour of the thoroughfare. The yellow line that cut through the middle was the only visible remnant of a time long lost. It had been three years since this road had seen a car.
It would never see one again.
He blinked through the glare of the sun. The wind was cold on his cheeks. By now, Nick and Kira would have woken and discovered his loss. They would have realised their indefinite interment. Understood that they were trapped until he returned.
Euan could only imagine how their fear would morph into anger. Their concern would twist into disbelief and resentment. When he reappeared, it would take time to heal the rift.
But he was determined, and would see it done.
Using the road h
ad quickened their journey, but Smith could no longer keep the pace. Hunched and slow, he dragged his feet with every step.
Euan veered off the road and followed a slope down into a ravine. The air was colder, but the grass was dry. The rock face on either side was covered in moss and lichen. Euan tore some off to chew.
‘We’ll take a break here,’ he said as he kicked at a number of sticks and stones to clear a debris-free spot for his ass in the grass.
At Euan’s words, Smith immediately slumped to the ground. He pulled his pack back from his shoulders with a grimace. His fingers shook as he removed his beanie and gloves to rub a bare hand over a naked scalp. His arctic gaze was closed off to the sunshine as his face tilted towards the sky.
The pull of remorse was an incessant nag that had baited him all day. His chest was tight and his muscles were sluggish and unresponsive, as if they knew that the direction his feet took him was a grave miscalculation. He swallowed down the anxiety as his own pack fell to the ground. He methodically began to divide out their rations.
He handed Smith a hard crust of bread and dehydrated rabbit. His brow furrowed as the boy took it with a listless hand, only to push the entire handful into his mouth at once.
Euan didn’t comment as the expanded cheeks chewed slowly. He took a sip of his water and shuffled until he was able to lean his head against his backpack.
Christ he was tired. His own body was pushed beyond exhaustion. Little sleep after days of mayhem. He’d confronted intruders, buried bodies, murdered, made love, and trudged for through a cold forest and icy pasture.
It wore a man down. He may be a giant, but he was fucking beat. ‘Let’s take a moment, yeah?’
They were hidden well. The shallow ravine would conceal them while they took a moment of respite. Smith began to snore before Euan even had a chance to settle his body more comfortably. After only a few moments of thoughts that conflicted, warred and battled, his eyes closed and he slept.
***
Euan woke to the click of a primer.
The kiss of steel was against the skin of his forehead. His heart clamoured and battered against his ribs. The jolt of adrenaline made him flinch.
Instinct kicked in. His hands remained folded over his stomach. His feet lingered where they crossed at the ankles. His eyes were riveted to the threat directly in front of him.
His features remained calm. ‘Afternoon,’ he drawled.
A man with multiple layers of lousy clothes and a bald scalp that shone in the afternoon sunlight held the shotgun to his head. The stock of his weapon was settled comfortably into his shoulder. His finger rested with familiarly on the trigger. His teeth were black as he sneered, ‘Pretty boots.’
Euan’s focus shifted to his surroundings. The sun had passed its midday zenith and was well on its way towards the horizon. Three men, including the one that held the gun to his head, surrounded him. Each had a primed weapon in his hand, a bald head, and an excited leer.
A fourth held Smith at bay. A filthy rag was in the young man’s mouth. It was an effective gag. Euan had slept through his capture. His hands were already bound at his front. His icy eyes were wild and afraid.
The muscles in Euan’s jaw hardened and his cheek ticked. He fought the sneer that twitched at his lips and tried to calm the erratic beat of his heart. ‘You like them, you can have them after you let go of my boy right there. Then we’ll be on our way.’
The man holding the gun chuckled. A wet sound that vibrated right through Euan’s defences and buried itself in his core. His friends joined in, and before he could swallow down the bile that crawled up his throat, a chorus of malevolent laughter shuddered through the gorge.
Smith struggled but his captor held fast. His nose was bloody. Endorphins would keep the pain from his shoulder at bay, but it was only a matter of time before agony resurfaced. They had to get away, and fast.
The ropy muscles at Euan’s stomach contracted as he forced himself to lie still. The surge of adrenaline was keeping his mind clear, his focus sharp, but the accumulation of dread was eroding his attention.
The man before him threw his shotgun over his shoulder and scratched a week’s worth of growth at his chin. ‘I don’t think so. Boy’s got a bounty on his head.’
Euan didn’t mistake the nonchalance as anything but a ruse. He held in the wince. ‘That so?’
The man eyed Euan critically. There was a calculating glimmer in his dark eyes. He studied Euan’s features, assessed his tense, reclined body. His gaze evaluated everything from the size of his boots to the thickness of his beard.
His sneer turned into a slow grin. ‘Funny enough, so do you.’
Euan’s stomach plummeted and he struggled to regulate his breathing.
Their captor continued. ‘It’s a big one too. The both of you? Mother. Fucking. Load.’
Smith surged forward, a curse muffled by his gag. But his efforts were futile. He lacked the strength the overcome his captor, and what he gained with surprise only forced their attention to the wounded man. His punishment was swift. The bastard who held him was cruel in his rebuke. Smith was on the ground with a split lip and bruised ribs in an instant. He coughed and gagged as he rolled in the dirt.
Euan swallowed but made no sudden move towards Smith. To flight now would be to lose. They were outnumbered by men who had maliciousness and cruelty etched in every line of their bodies. This was no team of mindless brutes. These men were strong, confident. Their eyes portrayed calculation and cunning. They’d played this game often and rested on the bounty of their previous victories.
In response, Euan squashed the burst of rage, pocketed it for later. He held corrupt brown eyes that hovered above him and cocked an eyebrow.
His apathy disturbed the group. Fingers stroked triggers as eyes narrowed. Euan enjoyed the wave of uncertainty that shifted his way.
Yet he was still unarmed and vulnerable, lying prone on the ground.
‘Get up,’ was the order barked his way.
Happy to comply, Euan was slow to move. He had no doubt the weapons aimed at his chest were loaded. As he rose to his feet, the tilt of the numerous barrels slowly shifted upwards. He relished the slight twitch of unease that cracked his enemy’s features.
He kept his hands outstretched. His palms faced a cloudless sky. The Glock in its holster burned the skin at his hip. When he towered above them, he finally let the sneer stretch his dry lips.
But these men were not fools. Their continued survival in this dystopian environment meant they understood the repercussions of Euan’s greater height, superior strength, solid bulk, and shrewd eyes. A journey with only four men against Goliath was suicide.
The leader nodded. It communicated a message that didn’t bode well for his continued survival. He was a single second too late to access his weapon.
Pain unlike anything he’d endured flashed through him like lightning. Fifty thousand volts jolted his body, seized his muscles, rendered every molecule inside him inert. Agony so great, pain so violent, lanced though him. He fell to the ground with an ominous thud.
They were on him as he writhed. The electricity destroyed his control of his central nervous system. His jaw was clamped shut as he endured the piercing pain. Unable to retaliate, he was bound and forcibly gagged. They rolled him as his body seized and shuddered. They took his backpack from where it lay and removed the weapons strapped to his hip. He grunted, unable to stop the froth that formed at the corners of his mouth.
Helpless, vulnerable and now trapped. Behind the hurt, Euan had no strength to battle the panic that rose inside him.
A single weapon from a hidden assailant had brought him down. The taser had castrated him as effectively as if they’d cut off his leg. Euan’s scrambled mind registered Smith’s howl of pain and through it, he knew that a wounded boy had attempted to take on five cruel degenerates in his name.
‘They said alive, but nothing about how bloody.’
Even in his periphery, blindsided by white
, agonising pain, Euan saw the man turn to his band of thugs. ‘Let’s go. We’ve got to get him to Death and the Reaper.’
His men moved to do as they were told even as the ringleader continued, ‘And I want his boots.’
Chapter 21
Nick stared at the hidden emergency exit behind the chipboard wardrobe in the second bedroom as though it were an alien life form that at any moment would reach out and attempt to gnaw on his brain. His arms crossed over his shirtless chest, his bare feet were planted wide and his disbelief was firmly etched in his features. ‘You tell Euan about this?’
At his shoulder, Kira inhaled before stating, ‘No.’
‘Jesus, girl,’ Nick side-eyed his devious little Pixie and cocked a brow. ‘He’s gonna spank your ass for keeping it from him.’
Kira kept her eyes forward and answered with an unfeminine snort. ‘I’ll be the first to bend over after if we find him in one piece.’
He raked his fingers through his hair. He held the mass in his fists and heaved out a long sigh. Euan had been painstakingly careful to ensure all exits were closely monitored, that every entry point to the bunker had multiple references and contingencies should they be comprised in an emergency. Kira had played a key role in safeguarding those plans. To mould them into maturity, see them to completion. Yet here she was, keeping secrets. Critical information that would be paramount to either their survival, or potential demise.
But the reality of her safeguarding this particular piece of intelligence meant that they would endure, and be able to aid that jackass in the process. ‘I don’t know whether to tan your ass myself or kiss it. Euan would be fucked—we’d be fucked—if this wasn’t here.’
‘You can kiss it,’ Kira quipped before she moved closer to his body. Her head tilted to rest on his shoulder. Her focus remained on the hatch before them.
Nick reached out and wrapped his arm around her. He pulled her into a hard embrace against the side of his body. The anxiety that had built a wall in his chest began to crumble. The fear eased the constricted grasp around his thoughts and focus. They were not irrevocably trapped deep under the ground should something happen to Euan. ‘Don’t tempt me,’ he said, then added. ‘Where does it lead?’
Fractured Refuge Page 17