Blood drummed a furious rhythm in his ears until all he could think of was that moment in the future when he’d get to hug Boar and feel the massive arms around him.
But he wouldn’t let fantasy cloud his eyes, so time and time again, he scanned everything within sight for movement. The property was large enough for someone to sneak out of a window, given enough time and luck.
He froze when a masked cop entered the back garden, barking orders, which lured the terrified members of staff from the gazebo, but the shootout was still ongoing, and Clover flinched when glass burst in one of the windows in the top floor.
Transfixed on movement flickering inside the house, he searched for Boar’s familiar silhouette, praying for the raid to not provoke him into doing something reckless. As the victim, he had no reason to fear the police, but who really knew in what mental state he was after months in captivity, constant torture and danger? The best of men could have snapped.
The rumble of an engine coming to life startled Clover, and he briefly looked away from the garden, glancing toward the little rest stop. His blood first ran cold, only to burst into his limbs like a wave of boiling adrenaline.
The back of the truck was open, and so was the electric box, spilling armed men with boxes, and... prisoners. There was no other way to call it. People in chains were being led out from some kind of underground tunnel straight into the vehicle, which must have been left there in case of this exact situation.
His brain was mush, and it took him several heartbeats to press on his headset and alert the others of what was going on beyond the police search area, but he only managed to say a couple of sentences before Boar’s towering figure emerged from the secret passage. The mop of auburn hair Clover loved to comb his fingers through was gone, but he’d have recognized his lover anywhere.
Clover’s heart stopped.
Boar kept shifting, looking around despite one of the guards shoving him toward the truck. They exchanged insults, but seeing the guard hit Boar with the butt of his gun made Clover move.
“One, they’re moving too fast. They’re almost at the truck,” Clover said breathlessly, climbing down branch after branch. He would have gone faster, but if he fell, the noise could have alerted the guards and endangered the whole operation. After months apart, months of worry and grief, Boar was so close Clover could almost taste him, and he’d rather die than let him slip out of their grasp again. For all he knew, this might be their one shot to get him back.
“Are you able to shoot the tyres from the tree?” Tank asked. His voice was stable, but Clover knew him too well to not notice the tension interwoven with the words. If Tank was actually suggesting this, for Clover to reveal himself to the enemy, he had to consider the situation dire.
This was it. They were either getting Boar tonight or not at all, yet invisible hands of fear clawed their nails into him and pulled him back to the torture chamber where he’d lost his courage. Whispers of being thrown to dogs paralyzed Clover’s moves.
“It’s too far. I’ve got to get down there.”
A part of him expected Tank to tell him to stay put, to take no risks, but that wasn’t what he got. “You’ve got ten bullets and the advantage of surprise. Shoot and run.”
“What’s going on there?” Drake asked, breathing hard, as if he were running.
Tank was experienced and patient. If he believed that Clover could do this, that the risk was worth taking, then maybe Clover wasn’t as helpless as he feared. He couldn’t stay in hiding forever, certainly not if his decision could mean Boar’s life or death.
Leap of faith then.
The ground felt too hard against his feet when he jumped from a high branch and pain shot up his legs, but there was no time to check whether they remained unbroken. Beyond the thatch of trees, Boar twisted away, a gun pressed to his head when he refused to board the truck as meekly as his fellow captives, and Clover knew he had no more time for hesitation. He could either ensure his own safety or see Boar taken and the goons escaping justice. He had to buy the others enough time to join him.
He dashed through the uneven landscape, slaloming between the trees until he burst through a line of bushes and saw the side of the truck. His heart counted the time remaining.
Boar fell following another punch, and as soon as Clover saw him roll into the grass, he raised his gun, his eyes the perfect scope surveying the scene for the worthiest target.
With five armed men present, it would be impossible to take them all out, so he shot the two tires within sight.
He’d expected them to burst, like they did in the movies, but the wheels merely twitched, so he shot two more holes in the front one before sinking behind a bush when a shadow moved at the edge of his vision.
A tall man wearing boxer shorts and a muscle shirt emerged from behind the vehicle. He must have been torn out of bed by the raid, but his gaze was alert enough to concern Clover. He didn’t try to hide and approach with caution, like Clover had expected him to. He straight-up shot a round of bullets at the trees, sending a wave of gunpowder smell above Clover’s head as he sank flat to the ground.
Just half a second later, with dread, he realized his lips had opened and uttered a scream. His cover had been blown, and the sense of helplessness tied him down as the man approached him with a boldness Clover hadn’t expected. Did this guy not fear his skin might burst from bullets like the tires had?
“Out. Now, or I’ll shoot you without asking questions!”
Clover lay paralyzed for a split second too long. When he looked up, the towering presence above made his heart stop.
It was over.
He rose to his knees, hands raised, but didn’t want to meet the gaze of his captor and looked past him instead. Boar was there, and when their eyes locked from afar for the briefest moment, relief flooded Clover’s heart with warmth. If he was to die, he wanted to at least see the man he loved for the last time, not stare death in the eyes for no reasons other than fear or pride.
But their connection broke when a loud bang cut through the air, and he glanced at the goon only to see blood drizzling from a hole in the middle of his head. Clover rolled away before the limp body fell face-first into the bushes.
Another armed man shot Clover’s way, missing by just a fraction of an inch, but Boar tackled him to the ground with a wild roar. The sun shone straight into Clover’s eyes, preventing him from seeing much. He scrambled in the grass with one hand still squeezing the grip of his gun. Seconds turned into minutes when he heard something approach making the ground thud as if it were an elephant about to wreak mayhem on poachers.
Bullets flew above his head, but when a black sneaker briefly passed in his line of vision, a sense of comfort settled on Clover’s shoulders like the familiar weight of Drake’s favorite hoodie slung over his shoulders on a cold evening.
Two more people dropped like logs, but there was one remaining. Clover spotted his shadow skirting behind the truck. He rose, darting forward to catch the bastard from the other side.
The man must have heard him move, because a bullet grazed the edge of the vehicle where Clover’s head might have been if he hadn’t stopped half a second earlier. The shock of it settled in, making Clover’s knees weak, but when he heard the man reload, he dared to look beyond the truck again.
The man was clad in just a pair of black jogging bottoms, revealing skin that sagged somewhat from age and lack of exercise, but his eyes were alert, and he pushed the magazine back into his firearm, about to shoot.
Boar charged at him from the back like a Minotaur finally caught up to his prey. He slung the short chain between his wrists under his captor’s chin and pulled, dragging the bastard’s feet off the ground in a single move. With a face purple from bruises and four deep scars running across it, the rage tearing out of Boar’s throat was the final push for Clover to stop hiding.
Their opponent’s neck snapped, and when his body dropped, Clover exhaled the load of air he’d been unconsciously holdi
ng.
He was still in a state of shock when hands spun him around, and he met Drake’s black gaze, which focused on him from behind a balaclava. His heart danced, but before he could have said anything, Drake leaned in and pressed their lips together.
There had never been a more chaste kiss in Clover’s life. Their mouths weren’t even touching, separated by the fabric of their balaclavas, yet the spark of emotion conveyed through the way Drake held him left no doubt of where they stood. Despite the crack between them previously feeling like an uncrossable valley of regret, Drake was still ready to save Clover from the wolves.
Clover squeezed Drake’s hoodie. Time was just a construct right now, because it stretched into infinity in their little bubble. The nature of their relationship remained uncertain, but Clover finally saw a path to a new understanding. Not a sturdy bridge, only the narrowest dirt road threatened by overgrowth, but it was there, and Clover would walk it every day until no one could deny that it existed.
The shouting from the direction of the house reminded him that they weren’t alone, and the cops must have heard the shootout. They didn’t have much time.
Drake stepped back, but his eyes remained locked with Clover’s. “Okay?”
“Y-yes. Boar.” Clover wouldn’t waste the precious seconds, so he stepped toward the confused group of captives. His voice trembled at first. “The cops are at the house. Go there, or run. Either way, this is your chance.”
The eyes staring back at him lit up like a dozen suns peeking from behind the horizon, but understanding was dawning on their faces. He had no idea if they saw police as salvation or a threat, but his job was done here.
A crack made Clover flinch, but when he saw it was Boar running his way, Clover dashed toward him with a broken sob. Relief soothed the pain of the past months when their bodies clashed and the strong arms lifted Clover off the ground. He’d missed Boar so much.
“You’re alive,” Boar whispered into Clover’s ear, and the familiar tickle of his beard made Clover finally believe that this wasn’t yet another dream. They were back together.
“My van’s down the road. Let’s go,” Drake said, urging them forward as the prisoners scattered. “One? All okay? Five and Four are with me. We’re off,” he spoke into his headset as they sprinted between the trees, following Drake’s lead.
The other prisoners should distract the cops enough to ensure a safe escape, but they couldn’t take any chances. In the morning sun, Boar’s naked back, even if bruised and dotted with scars, looked sturdy, but then Clover’s gaze settled on Apollo’s mark on Boar’s shoulder blade. The three of them shared it, and all he could think of were the horrors Boar must had gone through and survived.
Apollo. Fucking Apollo. The bane of their existence.
He was so focused on Boar that the white van seemed to emerge out of nowhere, but Drake was already jumping into the driver’s seat. “Get in. Get in,” he roared, and unlike Clover, Boar jumped straight into action and turned the handle at the back of the van despite the steel cuffs on his hands.
He rolled inside, and Clover followed. The van had already come to life by the time he shut the back door and lay on the yoga mat, exhausted and still squeezing his gun, driven by the irrational fear that someone might tear inside.
Drake was already informing the others of what had transpired, but Clover’s attention settled on Boar. Barefoot, in just a pair of sweatpants, with four irregular scars marring his face, he seemed exhausted, but what mattered was that he was here in the flesh. Alive.
“Boar…” Clover’s voice trembled when he put his arms around Boar’s neck and squeezed. He tried to speak, but got too choked up each time, and Boar ended up stroking Clover’s back reassuringly when it was Boar who needed the support.
They rolled from side to side as Drake sped down the winding road, but in the familiar space where they’d made out many times, safety was a given, no matter what went on beyond its metal walls.
Boar smelled of soap, but his long beard hadn’t seen a comb beyond his own fingers in a long time. He appeared more serious. Bigger. But the hard muscles couldn’t make him any less cuddly, so Clover held on, breaking into a sob of relief.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“What for?” Boar kissed the side of Clover’s face. “I thought you and Drake were dead or still held captive. Clover… baby… I’m so happy to see you.” He took a deep, trembling breath and pulled the balaclava off Clover’s head.
The air felt cold against Clover’s flushed skin, but each time he looked into the kind eyes that still watched him as if he were an angel, guilt cut its way through his breastbone and stabbed his heart. “I— I’d told you to go with us if you loved me. And you’ve been through so much because of me. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m a terrible person, I hate myself for it so much.”
“Clover, sweetie. Thinking of you kept me alive. I imagined the chance of seeing you again, and thought that you’d need my help. I knew I needed to survive for you.”
“Don’t excuse me!” Clover sobbed, wrapped up in Boar’s hug, which felt like a warm comforter on a cold winter night. “I blew it. I hurt you. Love should be unconditional, and I—”
“I would have gone with you either way, Clo,” Boar whispered, cradling him with the same gentleness he always had. “I would have never let you go on your own.”
His warm embrace was Clover’s solace, but with his hands still cuffed, Boar couldn’t put his arms around Clover as easily. Itching for more closeness, Clover pushed in under Boar’s arms, but once his cheek lay on Boar’s hot chest, in a way so familiar, fear slowly drained out of his body.
“I love you so much, Boar. You make our group whole, and it’s all a mess without you. I just need you to know I never took your love for granted.”
Boar kissed Clover again. “I missed you all more than you can ever imagine. Is Pyro okay?”
Before Clover could answer, they heard Pyro’s voice on the speakerphone Drake turned on. “Tonight we celebrate, Boar! See you in a bit!”
Chapter 10 - Clover
“I thought we were broke,” Clover said, hugging Tank tightly under the streams of water in the shower.
The ceiling was fitted with a rainfall showerhead, and the size and overall setup of the space reminded Clover of the luxurious bathroom in Tank’s old house. He’d grown so accustomed to the comfort it had offered, he’d started taking it for granted, only to lose the safety of his first true home to a fit of Pyro’s rage. It felt as if that night had been ages ago.
“I wanted to splash out on Boar. He deserves it before we all have to go back to the trailers,” Tank said.
Clover closed his eyes and ran his hand up and down Tank’s side. Nothing could hurt Clover when that towering body stood between him and danger. Tank was tougher than Kevlar. Harder than steel.
“Thank you for believing in me.”
The big, warm hands spread soap over Clover’s back, but the foam got instantly washed away by the drizzle.
“I always did, even if it might not have looked like it to you. But in the end, you had to confront a situation beyond your current skills and you succeeded. They’d have taken him away if you hadn’t acted,” Tank said before switching off the water.
“I couldn’t let that happen.” Clover stood on his toes and kissed the square line of Tank’s stubbly jaw. “I love him so much, you know? He’s all bruised, they cut his hair, but when I looked into his eyes, I could see our Boar, as gentle as ever. To me. ‘Cause he strangled that Tyrone guy like he was… I dunno, Hercules.”
Tank snorted. “He does look like he could play Hercules in an upcoming movie. Maybe we should find him an agent?” he asked and flicked Clover’s nose. It was an attempt to wipe the remainders of grief off Clover’s face, but despite the guilt still being a presence in Clover’s heart, he felt infinitely better already.
“I don’t think any of us should be showing our faces on TV.”
Clover couldn’t g
et enough of Tank’s hands, but it was time to leave the warm shower and see what the others were up to. “I made up with Pyro. He did have to grovel quite bit though.”
Tank offered him a smile before using a clean towel to dry Clover’s hair. “I’m glad. Maybe it’ll all be back to normal at last.”
“It will. With Boar back, it will.”
Tank held a white hotel robe open for Clover. “What about you, though? We didn’t have time to really talk about it. Are you sure you’re doing okay?” He kissed Clover’s head once he wrapped him in the soft fabric.
Clover turned around and smiled at Tank. “Some days are hard, but it gets better. I guess I’m starting to realize things will never be the same, and that’s okay. I can be happy anyway.”
“Who would have thought my boy’s so smart?” Tank’s warm smile needed kissing, so Clover climbed to his toes to press their mouths together once more.
By the time they managed to separate and leave Tank’s ensuite in the huge apartment on the top floor of a beautiful modern hotel, the others were already out of their rooms and gathered in the large living space.
Furnished in gray and black, with bright yellow accents in the form of curtains, pillows, and twin armchairs, the room was an eclectic mix of styles, which featured a statement wall lined with large concrete slabs, as well as an antique clock by the window. Opulent, and with a very high ceiling, it was luxurious while staying classy rather than pretentious. And, Clover was sure, it must have cost loads.
Pyro sat on the huge black sofa in just his briefs, cutting tangles out of Boar’s beard. He wasn’t doing a good job, but Boar kept laughing, so that was a good sign. Naked next to Pyro, he couldn’t have looked more relaxed, yet Clover frowned at the bruises and scars covering his flesh.
“Are you okay, Boar? You haven’t told us much about what happened.” Clover said as Pyro complained about Boar moving around too much.
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