Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC #3)(71)

“Who would want to kill them?” I asked him desperately. “They’ve never hurt anyone in their entire lives. They’re grandparents, nice people. Ava bakes brownies. Who would want to hurt a grandma who bakes brownies?” I choked out. Though they may not have been blood, that’s what they were. They were my parents. The only grandparents Lexie ever knew. Ever would know.

Zane’s face hardened. It looked like he was going to say something, but a small voice beat him to it.

“Mom?”

I looked past Zane to see Lexie standing slightly behind him. Killian wasn’t far away, his expression grim.

Pain sliced through me at the sight of my daughter. The one who was almost always happy. Who, despite her father and the fact she had grown up without luxury, had a good childhood. Largely thanks to two people she doted on. Two people who I would have to tell her were gone. Her carefree life would be shattered and she’d feel a pain it was impossible to protect her from, shield her from.

I stood from the chair, finding my strength in my daughter. I needed it for her. Zane stayed close beside me.

“Dollface, let’s go home,” I said quietly, failing to disguise the anguish in my voice. I didn’t want her to have to hear this here, around so many unfamiliar faces. Granted, the faces of Gwen and Amy were locked on us in worry, as were the gazes of their husbands, but this was not something Lexie needed to go through with an audience.

I tried to gently direct her to the street but she stayed still.

“No,” she said firmly, “I want to know now. Tell me what’s going on.”

Zane stepped forward, his face soft. “Lex, listen to your mom. We’ll get you home and you can talk there,” he told her quietly, his eyes searching hers.

“No,” she repeated, this time louder. Her eyes were determined.

“Freckles,” Killian tried, stepping forward to lightly grasp her elbow, a tender look on his face.

She wrenched her elbow out of his grip. “No, Kill.” Her voice broke at the end. She knew something was wrong. “Mom?” She moved her gaze to me.

I swallowed, knowing she wouldn’t move unless Zane carried her bodily. Stubbornness was a trait she inherited from me.

I moved forward to frame her face in my hands. “It’s Ava and Steve,” I said softly, willing my voice not to break.

Lexie looked at me blankly for a moment, then her faced paled. Pain sliced through her beautiful features. I flinched.

“They’re going to be okay though?” she asked, clinging to a vain hope. A last shred of sanity.

I paused, gathering myself. My head shook slowly. “No, baby,” I murmured.

She got that blank look on her face again and I gathered her in my arms, hoping I could somehow take all of the pain out of her body and take it into mine.

She stood woodenly for a moment, not moving as I clutched her to me. Then her body started to shake; the power of her sobs actually shook her entire body. I managed to swallow my own tears in order to be strong for Lexie, although the pain of loss was cutting through me like a knife through butter.

I felt Lexie’s weight hit me, as the weight of her sorrow was too strong to stand under. I struggled to hold her. I struggled to hold myself.

Her weight was suddenly gone and I stood motionless as Zane gathered my sobbing daughter in his arms. I expected her to fight him, to struggle. What I did not expect was for her to bury her face in his chest and clutch his cut like it was a life raft.

His eyes met mine. “Car, babe, now,” he instructed that soft tone I would have told you five minutes earlier was impossible for him to produce.

I nodded stiffly, a thought striking me. “My bag.” I started to turn to where I had left it on the table, dreading facing strangers and my fresh new friends under the stifling weight of grief.

“Here you go, Mia.” Gwen pushed my bag into my arms, her eyes kind.

She squeezed my arm as I took it. “We’re all here. You need anything, just call, okay?”

I put my bag over my shoulder, struggling not to flinch at the pity on her face. Pity meant it was real. Other people recognizing this meant it was actually happening.

“Okay, thanks,” I said quietly, meeting her eyes. They may have held a hint of pity but they also held understanding, empathy, a pain of her own.

She squeezed my hand. “Anything you need,” she repeated softly.

Killian stood stock still watching Lexie sob, unable to do anything about it. His face was hard and he struggled not to comfort her. I gave him a sad smile.

I turned back to see Zane watching me, Lexie still burrowed in his arms. The pain that clouded my vision made it difficult to see how painfully beautiful it was. Together, we walked quickly back to the car, Lexie buried in Zane’s chest, his hand clutching mine tightly.

Gently, like she was made of fine china, Zane placed Lexie in the back seat of my car. I climbed in beside her, gathering her in my arms.

He stood at the door, eyes on us, eyes on me. Before I knew what was happening, he laid a soft, feather-light kiss on my head and stroked Lexie’s hair before slamming the door shut.





“You think you can walk into the house, baby doll?” I asked softly, stroking Lexie’s hair.

She lifted her head, her red-rimmed eyes gazing out into the driveway in confusion. I felt another stab to see the depth of sorrow etched on her face. She nodded quietly.