The motel room smells like stale cigarettes and cheap disinfectant, but it does the job. The receptionist was blind, accepted cash, and didn’t take a name. A flickering neon sign outside the window casts an eerie red glow against the walls, pulsing like a heartbeat.
I sit on the edge of the lumpy mattress, my hands clasped between my knees, trying to ignore how my fingers won’t stop trembling. The adrenaline is fading, leaving behind a strange hollowness in its wake. Behind me, on another of the four beds, Doc Marcus hovers over Axel, fussing over his bandages, while Garrett sits on a chair at his side.
We had one stop, in which Marcus jumped off the bus to relieve himself by the side of the road, and Wyatt could quickly tell the others about Sharon’s demise and the reasons why. Surprisingly, he didn’t leave anything out, and unsurprisingly, Garrett’s two responses were, 'Thank fuck the bitch is dead,'and, 'Can I get a copy of that tape?'Axel is yet to say anything.
Across the room, Wyatt is muttering to Hux, their heads bowed in low conversation, while Dax hangs over Thiago, his laptop humming softly on the desk. Wyatt’s shoulders are rigid, anxiety coiling through his frame. He hasn’t stopped moving since we got here. Pacing, planning, and unraveling whatever temper is making it impossible for him to relax. After the way he held me on the minibus, his thumb constantly stroking my skin and his foot bouncing against mine, Ishould say something to help. Do something to help. But my own thoughts are a tangled mess.
Fredrick’s address is lying on the table for all to see. A tangible, dangerous connection to the twin I’ve been yearning for. Every second I can see it, I can imagine the torture I could be saving her from, using my childhood as reference. The only reason I’m not halfway out the door already is because Wyatt is watching me like he expects me to bolt at any second.
And honestly? He’s not wrong.
Thiago suddenly scrubs a hand over his face, breaking the silence. “That’s me for the night. I can’t even see the screen anymore,” he closes his laptop and moves to stand. Wyatt quickly puts a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into the seat.
“No one’s sleeping,” Wyatt barks a little too loudly. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his exhaustion apparent, but he won’t give in. The need to get us out of the state, as far away from the crime scene, is pushing him to be snappy. The fact it coincides with getting one step closer to Meg puts extra pressure on him to pull this off. “We don’t have time.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Garrett cuts in, rolling his eyes. He’s yet to change out of his leathers, and I reckon he’s feeling the look. I, for one, couldn’t wait to get out of that catsuit, changing in the minibus with Wyatt glaring daggers at Thiago and Marcus to keep their eyes averted.
I nod, straightening my back and rolling my stiff shoulders out.
“He’s right. We’re running on fumes, and if we’re walking into Fredrick’s house like this, we might as well shoot ourselves in the foot first.” Wyatt looks like he wants to argue, but even he knows it’s the truth.
“Fine,” he grits out, looking at his phone for the time until daylight. “Three hours. Then we regroup here.”
A collective exhale filters through the room. No one truly relaxes, but it’s something. Thiago and Marcus pack up their equipment, heading for the rooms we booked out next door. Wyatt has one too, under the pretense that he’ll also be staying elsewhere. Since the whole sibling blackmail thing, which is currently burning a hole in my pocket, Wyatt is being extra cautious about how our relationship appears to theoutside world. He doesn’t trust anyone outside of the Souls and me anymore.
Once again, Axel tells Garrett to change clothes. Gare’s dark eyes flash down to the mesh top beneath his jacket, a pinch of uncertainty flashing over his face. I catch the white-knuckled grip Garrett has on the lapels and suddenly realize the problem. He doesn’t want to take it off in front of the others. Picking up a random duffle bag since they were packed in a rush and everyone’s clothes are mixed together, I head toward the bathroom, ordering Gare to come with.
The lock is flimsy, but it holds as I shut Garrett inside. “Strip,” I tell him, my attention already on the bag at my feet. I rifle through, picking out some flannel pajama pants and a white tee, and in the background, I hear clothes hitting the floor. I’m careful to keep Garrett out of my eyeline, using the mirror at an angle so his reflection is hidden as I hold the clothes out. He takes them.
My reflection in the mirror is a stranger. Wide, haunted eyes, my shoulders tight and lips pressed tightly. I can forget about wrangling my hair into submission, my ponytail matted around the hair tie. When I don’t hear any sounds, I peek over my shoulder to see Garrett’s outline. He’s standing, facing me, completely naked, and stroking his cock.
“What are you doing?” I turn fully now, keeping my eyes on his. He tenses at his chest being on display but doesn’t shy away. Instead, his smirk is lazy, his fingers continuing to glide up and down his length. I must admit, the black nail polish on his tattooed hands is doing something for me.
“Oh,” Garrett pretends to be caught out. “You told me to strip and then bent over in front of me. I thought that was an invitation.” I lean back and grip the basin. We only have three hours until the stress starts all over again, the unknown forcing me to be both petrified and reckless. When no immediate answer comes, a voice calls from inside the room.
“Is he getting a blowjob right now?!” Axel calls.
“These walls are paper thin, you know,” Wyatt growls a moment later. I grin before I catch myself. I shouldn’t be able to smile or enjoy myself when I know Meg can’t do the same. But then I think about the five men who are all emotionally leaning on me and who need something to keep going. Especially since it’s my war that they are fighting.
Picking up the white T-shirt from where Garrett discarded it on the railing, I urge him to put it on before I unlock and swing the door open.
“If I’m not supposed to suck it, what do you want me to do about that?” I point to Garrett’s cock, standing thick and proud for all to see. This is one area that Garrett isn’t self-conscious about, and for a good reason.
“You can suck it, Swan,” Huxley nods, much to Garrett’s dick’s excitement. “I just think we’re past closed doors at this point.” A simmer of uncharted territory ripples through the six of us. Without Garrett being completely overbearing and forcing us all to push these boundaries, I find all eyes on me, an equal amount of intrigue and caution awaiting my next move. All the while, I’m thinking, ‘We have three freaking hours, and I’m exhausted’, so I decide to compromise.
“I only have the energy to make one of you come. Are you all in agreement that Garrett is the receiver?” The man in question makes a giddy little noise, like he might explode if we don’t get an answer soon. Dax takes pity on him first.
“It would be rude to deny him now.”
“Well, if I must,” Garrett sighs dramatically, swanning across the room to sit against Axel’s headboard with him. His grin is huge, as if he’s been waiting years for this exact scenario. I shake my head to myself, following him to the small double bed. His and Axel’s long limbs take up the entire length, not leaving much room for me to crawl between his legs. Chairs clatter as the three other spectators drag the metal along the length of the room to settle at the foot of the bed.
“You won’t get much of a view back there,” I frown over my shoulder. Wyatt snorts.
“It’s the only view I want.” Like every time Wyatt compliments me, my heart flips over itself. I pause, deciding they might as well get a proper show if that's the case. Stepping back off the bed, I wriggle out of my pajamas and climb on, the mattress springs squeaking loudly. As I bend forward, a round of appreciative groans echoes around the thin walls.
Garrett’s cock is still hard against his stomach, and there’s a part of me that enjoys the power at this moment. It’s intoxicating. The way his breath stutters when I drag my nails lightly up his thighs, the way his muscles tense in anticipation. How Axel’s hazel eyes drink in everymovement between the two of us, his own pants starting to become tented.
I shift, settling between Garrett’s tattooed legs, and let my lips brush the sensitive skin along his hip. He inhales sharply. I glance up at him, amused at how quickly his teasing confidence wavers under my touch. I’m just enjoying how his jaw is locked shut for once. I let my tongue flick against the head of his cock, moving slowly to work my way down his shaft, moistening as I go. He’s silky smooth against my tongue, the lightest taste of salty precum gliding across the roof of my mouth.
