Reign of Wrath (Dirty Broken Savages #3)(51)

Ash glances over at me and grins. “That’s a great idea.” He hesitates, then adds, “You know, you’ve changed.”

“How do you mean?”

“Since River came into our lives, you’ve been... I dunno. More alive. More present than you were before. I’m glad to see you coming to life again.”

I don’t really have anything to say to that, so I just nod. He’s right, in his way. Things really have changed since River came along. She’s changed me for the better. She’s so deep under my skin that I couldn’t get her out if I tried.

And I like it, although a part of me fears it too.

Because if something ever happened to her, it would wreck me beyond repair.





19





River





The shower water is hot as it beats down on my back and shoulders, soaking into my hair when I tip my head back.

Knox hung out with me a bit after I came down from coming, making sure I was really okay. I told him I was, and eventually he accepted that, leaving me to clean up and wash the day off me.

The water runs red a bit, and I hiss when it hits the cuts, sending trails of blood down my legs and swirling down the drain.

It felt incredible at the time, something I didn’t even know I needed until Knox gave it to me, but now it stings under the water until I get used to the spray.

I wash up quickly and then get out, looking at myself in the mirror. There are neat little lines from Knox, still pink and raised with their freshness. When I turn to look at my back, I can just make out the healing scars from where Knox marked me. I look at the stitches in my arm, which I never got looked at by a real doctor.

They’re a bit rough, and I’ll probably have more of a scar than I would have otherwise, but I don’t care. Honestly, I kind of like it. It’s Knox marking me in another way.

I stand there, looking at my tattoos and scars. With nothing on, everything stands out in sharp relief. Some of the scars are self-inflicted, and obviously I got the tattoos myself, but a lot of the marks on me are from other people. From fights I had to scrape and claw my way out of. From being abused and hurt in ways no one could ever deserve. It’s all left its mark on me, and I look so patched together at this point that I probably shouldn’t even be standing.

But I am.

I’m still on my fucking feet.

And as I go up against pure evil, I’m determined to be the last one still standing.

I brush one hand over the mirror, dragging my fingers through the condensation on it from the shower. In my head, I can hear that question from Gage. The one he asked the night I killed Ivan St. James, before he fucked me over this counter, and again in that dive bar bathroom.

Are you ruined?

I shake my head. No. No, I’m not.

It’s late evening and my stomach growls, reminding me that I didn’t have lunch and it’s getting past time for dinner. So I throw on some clothes and go downstairs, thinking about grabbing something to eat and then doing something productive to help with our mission, since I got sidetracked earlier.

As soon as I reach the bottom of the stairs though, I realize it’s darker than it normally is down there. Several lights are off, and there’s a warm glow flickering on the walls.

Frowning, I keep walking and step into the living room to find a bunch of candles set up on all the flat surfaces. All the guys are there too, candlelight flickering on their faces, and my footsteps slow.

“What’s going on?” I ask, glancing around at them.

“We thought…” Priest starts. He seems unsure for a second, and then continues. “This is a memorial for Hannah. We thought you might want to do that.”

My chest tightens, and emotions go barreling through me a mile a minute. Pain at the fact that she’s gone and there needs to be a memorial at all. Anger about what Julian said, and how little he cared for someone as amazing as my sister. Warmth that the four of them put this together because they wanted to honor my sister and to make me happy.

I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is closed, blocked by the emotion in my chest.

Gage, perceptive as always to my emotions, takes a step closer to me. “Is this okay?” he asks. “We thought it would be a nice way to honor her, but we don’t want to make you think about it if you don’t want to.”

I nod emphatically, tears starting to leak from my eyes as Gage smiles and takes my hand, bringing me further into the room.

It’s lovely, just the five of us and the candlelight. And even though the four of them only really met her a couple of times, and were only able to see the real Hannah, the Hannah I knew and loved, that one time when she came to the house, I can tell their feelings in this moment are real.

Gage speaks first, as he usually does. He bows his head for a second, and I know he’s not praying, but getting his thoughts together. “I didn’t get to know Hannah as well as I would have liked to, but what I did see, I liked. I could tell she was resourceful, able to adapt. She was strong. A fighter, like her sister. She was in a bad situation, but she wasn’t desperate to save her own skin. She was putting up with it for her son’s sake, because of the depth of her love for him. Someone willing to sacrifice themself for someone they love is always an amazing person.”

I swallow hard at the steady way Gage talks about her. Because he’s right. The depth of Hannah’s love was... fathomless. I was always trying to protect her, but she did the same for me. She helped me and loved me and she looked out for Cody with the same strength.