Reign of Wrath (Dirty Broken Savages #3)(91)

Harley barks excitedly as soon as we come through the door, jumping around and wagging his tail like he hasn’t seen us in weeks.

I don’t blame him for that.

After everything, I’m the kind of tired that feels bone deep, and everyone else looks as exhausted as I feel.

I remember standing here in the living room before we left for the party, kissing each of them, feeling like we were invincible. It’s a different feeling now, but I’m so fucking relieved to still have them all here with me.

I move to Gage, who has blood splattered on his white dress shirt. His tie is long since gone, and his hair is a mess. His green eyes are a little wild when I look close, and I know it was hard for him to see the plan go so horribly out of control tonight, just like it did at the church. He considers himself the leader, and we all look to him that way, and it weighs heavier on him when things don’t work out.

I reach up and touch his face, smoothing one hand up his cheek. Gage gives me a small smile, and it even almost reaches his eyes. He pulls me in close and kisses my forehead before drawing back to look at me again.

“You’re a fucking warrior,” he murmurs. “Never think differently. After what you did tonight, nothing can stop you.”

“No, it can’t. Not when I have you guys at my back,” I murmur, and he’s still smiling as he releases me.

I move to Ash next. It feels like a very, very long time ago that the two of us were going at it in that closet in Alec Beckham’s house, but when I look at him, I know he’s thinking about it too.

He grins tiredly and reaches for my hand. He kisses my palm and then each of my fingers, ignoring the fact that they’re dirty and streaked with blood.

“I’d tell you all the things I want to do to you after how bad ass you were tonight, but I think I’d fall asleep halfway through.” He chuckles. “Rain check?”

“Always,” I tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Knox is next. I’ve never seen him as pissed off as he was tonight, standing there in helpless fury while we had to watch Julian drag Priest away.

It’s not his style to stand down, and there’s still some of that anger in his face, in the way he holds himself. I feel like he’s going to need to get this frustration out somehow, even if things are over now.

As soon as I get close to him, he yanks me right up against his body and buries his face in the crook of my neck. He breathes me in, his fingers digging into my hip as he holds on tight.

Neither of us says anything for a long moment, and then he pulls back and he looks a little better. Of all the men—except for Priest—he’s the most blood-spattered, and I know he threw himself into that fight hard because he needed to kill and hit and hurt to deal with his feelings.

“You killed that fucker,” he says, reaching up to grip my chin. There’s so much pride in his voice, and I smile at the sound of it.

“I didn’t make him suffer the way he deserved,” I admit, grimacing.

Knox shakes his head. “Nah. He suffered. He thought he was going to get the better of us, and you beat him at his own game. He died knowing he was a fucking failure, basically pissing himself with his own fear of what was coming. That’s what matters.”

Hearing those words makes me feel better about how Julian’s death went down. Of all the guys, Knox understands this part of me the best, and if he says it was good enough, then maybe it was.

I let out a little breath and then move to Priest.

He’s still standing, but it’s clear he’s worn down and in pain.

I reach for his hand, and he takes it, threading our fingers together. “We should get you cleaned up,” I tell him. “You look terrible.”

A little smile lights his face, and he pulls me in closer to him. “I know.”

I kiss him, lingering soft and gentle with my mouth against his. Something has shifted between us after everything that happened tonight, like something finally slotting into place. It makes everything else feel sharper and more intense.

We’ve kissed plenty of times, but doing it now feels like coming home.

“Come on,” I say, tugging him up the stairs after me.

He moves slowly, wincing from time to time when his wounds protest the movement, but he doesn’t stop. We get to his bedroom, and I help him strip out of his clothes carefully.

Without them, it’s clear to see just what Julian did to him. There are cuts up and down his arms, bleeding sluggishly, and bruises on his face and chest where Julian hit him, starting to bloom in different colors.

His clothes are crusted with blood and sweat, and I toss them to the floor and kick them to one side.

Luckily, none of his cuts are big enough to require stitches. Julian was going for maximum pain, but he wasn’t trying to kill him or make him bleed out while he tortured him.

“Get in the shower,” I tell Priest. “I’ll be there in a second.”

He does as I say, stepping into the bathroom. A second later, I hear the water turn on and he lets out a low hiss, probably when the hot water hits some of those cuts.

I quickly strip out of my own clothes, letting the remains of my dress fall to the floor, then I hurry to join him in the shower.

He watches me as I approach, not saying anything. I step into the spray with him, and the water runs red as it rushes down to swirl around the drain.