Reign of Wrath (Dirty Broken Savages #3)(3)

Gage and Priest get to the door before us and unlock it, and we all make it inside without incident. I just let them guide me along. Their hands feel warm and comforting and safe, and they take me up the stairs to my bedroom.

Without them, I’d probably still be standing outside, staring blankly into the middle distance, not knowing what to do next.

But the four of them leap into action so I don’t even have to think about it.

Hands start undressing me, helping me out of my outfit from the wedding. I let them do it, lifting my arms when they urge me to and stepping out of my shoes and pants. They touch me like I’m something precious, running their fingers over my face and down my good arm.

They all look tired. Gage and Knox and Priest all have the same grime and blood smeared on them that Ash did. Their suits are dirty and rumpled, and there’s none of the confident poise from before the wedding.

Someone puts their hand at the small of my back, and I go where they guide me.

We end up crammed inside the bathroom, all five of us. I can hear the guys murmuring to each other, talking in low voices, but I can’t focus on what they’re saying.

“Hey.” The deep rumble of Knox’s voice cuts through the haze for just a bit. “Sit here, okay? Let me look at your arm.”

He pushes down the lid on the toilet, and I sit on it obediently. I can’t really feel the blood on my arm, but I can see it, stark and red against my skin and the white of the bathroom tiles where it drips down my arm to the floor.

Knox moves with the precision that always seems so surprising for someone his size. He cleans the blood away and disinfects the wound, his inked hands dextrous and efficient. Part of my brain thinks to brace for the sting of the antiseptic, but I barely even feel it, so I don’t flinch.

I also barely feel the needle when Knox threads it through my skin, stitching up the wound on my arm. There’s more blood on the floor and on my arm, and I stare at it with no real feeling. It’s almost like it belongs to someone else.

“River.”

I hear my name again, and I blink, trying to look to see which one of them is calling me. Ash leans in, squatting down in front of me.

“Are you with us?” he asks.

Am I? It’s a good question. I don’t even really know.

“Are you okay?” he tries again.

I open my mouth, but at first, nothing comes out. My throat feels dry and tight, and the words feel locked down deep, somewhere I can’t access them. I swallow hard and try again.

“I’m fine.”

It comes out thick and raspy, and probably not convincing at all, but it’s all I’ve got.

Clenching my jaw, I take a deep breath and then another one, trying to force back the cloud in my brain. I can’t let this drag me under. All my life, I’ve been able to shake off the pain and the hopelessness and keep going, powering through by sheer force of will.

I don’t want to have to think about that alley and what happened there.

I don’t want it to be real.

If I give in to these feelings, let them consume me, then I won’t be able to hide from it anymore. I’ll have to face it.

“I’m fine,” I say again, stronger this time. At least, I hope it is.

Ash still looks worried. He reaches up and strokes a hand through my silver hair, not getting in the way of Knox’s quiet stitching.

The others are still there, leaning against the wall and lurking in the doorway. No one seems to know what to say. Or maybe there just isn’t anything worth saying in this moment.

“Okay,” Knox murmurs after a few more seconds, and his voice is quieter than I’ve ever heard it before. He pulls the last stitch taut, and aside from the tugging at my skin, I’m barely aware of him finishing up his work on my wound.

He steps back, looking down at me, and the downturn of his full lips gives away his worry. His dark brown irises appear almost black as he narrows his eyes, never tearing his focus away from me.

I feel like I have to do something to reassure them that I’m alright. That they don’t need to hover and worry. So I move to stand up, bracing myself a little on the sink to help me get my balance.

It doesn’t help.

As soon as I’m vertical, there’s a rush to my head, and my vision swims. Dark spots cover my eyes, and before I can try to blink them away, they grow and grow until the darkness is consuming me.

Then it takes over entirely, stealing away my consciousness.





2





Priest





“Fuck,” Knox grunts as River’s legs give out.

It’s a good fucking thing he’s right there beside her, because he manages to catch her before she can hit the floor.

Or hit her head on the sink or something.

He hefts her up into his arms bridal style, and she looks so small there. She’s down to just her underwear since we undressed her, and her skin looks pale. Maybe from the blood loss, maybe from… everything else.

Her silver hair hangs down in a shimmering cascade, and her limbs dangle. If it weren’t for the fact that her chest is clearly rising and falling with her breath, it would be easy to think she was…

No.

I shake my head, not even wanting to entertain that thought for a second.

She looks so small and so vulnerable like this. Like a delicate bird that flew into a window, battered and injured. There’s still dried blood on her, and the same grime and dirt and sweat that the rest of us are streaked with after the fight in the church.