She nods weakly, but her eyes roll slightly, and her head turns into Knox’s chest. He curses softly and brushes a tear off her cheek.
“You’re doing so good, pet,” Knox whispers, kissing her forehead. “Just a little more, yeah?”
I grab the needle and thread. My hands are steady, even though everything inside me is chaos. One stitch. Two. Her body jolts, and she lets out a low, strangled cry. I keep going.
Then her body goes still.
“Fuck, Aspen?” I look up.
“She passed out,” Knox says, checking her pulse. “She’s still with us. Just unconscious.”
I don’t let myself panic. I finish the stitches, each one like sewing pieces of myself into her skin. When I’m done, I clean the blood off her leg as gently as I can and wrap it tight.
“She’s going to make it,” I mutter. Not to them but to myself, because if I say it enough, it’ll be true.
Knox lets her hands go, but his eyes never leave.
“I’m going to make her bed.” Ryker stands, her blood on his shirt and hands. I know Ryker; he’s trying to pull it together. He liked Bryn a lot, and now seeing Aspen like this…
I nod, and he leaves to the back, his boots echoing on the old hardwood floor.
“Knox.” I call him, but he’s not here right now; his hand is clenched at his side, veins pumping, jaw ticking. “Reaper!”
He snaps up, looking at me. “Yeah?”
“Do you think they’ll come looking for us here?” I ask, looking around, it’s getting dark, and we need to be prepared to defend ourselves if needed.
“I don’t think so,” He drags a bloody hand over his hair. “Ethan never knew where this place was, and Dante will never say.”
I see his eyes darting around; he’s planning, trying to see five steps ahead.
“Let’s cover the windows up so no one sees the lights in the distance and reinforce the door with that closet.” He points to the old dish closet. It’s hardwood and will make it hard for someone to take the door.
We move the furniture, blocking the door with the heavy wood. Just as we finish, I hear Ryker’s boots on the floor behind me.
“The bed’s ready,” he says. Knox moves without a word, strides over to Aspen, and lifts her slowly, making sure her leg doesn’t bend as he carries her toward the bedroom.
I stay back, watching Ryker. His eyes are shadows, dark and distant. I step closer, slipping an arm around him. He stiffens, then leans in, just a fraction.
“Let it out, Ryk,” I murmur, pulling him tight against me.
“Fuck, Max…” I don’t hear him cry, no sobbing, no gasps, but my shoulder grows wet, his grief bleeding through.
“I know.” I whisper it into the space between us; into the stormhe’s barely holding back. “We’re gonna get Dante back. And we’ll make them pay for Bryn. I swear it.”
He nods, but he doesn’t let me go. Not even when Knox walks in and finds us tangled up in the middle of the room like the world’s emptied out around us. He catches my eye, gives a small nod, a quiet smile that says he understands, and disappears into the kitchen.
It’s the first time he’s seen us like this. But I know it doesn’t matter, not to him, not to any of them. Whatever I have with Ryker has always been accepted. Respected.
Ryker finally straightens, scrubs the tears from his face, and looks at me like I’m the only thing anchoring him right now.
Then he grabs my face and crashes his mouth into mine, hard, raw, and so goddamn possessive it makes my knees buckle. He kisses me as if he’s trying to burn the pain out of his body and pouring every ounce of rage and grief into me.
His hands fist in my shirt, desperate, bruising. Teeth clash. It’s messy and angry.
But I don’t let it spiral.
I grab the back of his neck and own the kiss.
