The others are close, so close that I can feel their body heat, their steadying presence keeping me from spiraling any further. The tension in their muscles hasn’t fully eased, their bodies still rigid from the fight or flight instinct that none of us have shaken yet, but the way they lean into me, into each other, is enough to quiet the tremor in my chest.
For a moment, we just sit there, huddled together in the middle of the road, the weight of the night pressing down on all of us, but then, one by one, they start speaking, murmuring soft words that sink into my skin.
“We’ve got you, Peach,” Garrett says first, forcing himself to keep his tone light despite everything.
“You’re safe now,” Axel adds, his hand resting over mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles like he needs reassurance just as much as I do.
“We are never doing this again,” Dax mutters as a quiet promise that settles deep in my bones. Then Huxley exhales a breath that shakes slightly, his arms tightening around me like he can’t bear to let go.
“I love you, Swan,” he breathes, pressing me harder into his chest. As if he holds me tight enough, he can make the last few hours disappear.
A huff comes from beside me, and Garrett nudges Huxley aside with a little more force than necessary. “Don’t kid yourself, Hux. I love her more.”
Dax scoffs, shifting so he’s angled toward me, his knee knocking against mine. “I loved her first.”
Wyatt grunts in disapproval, his grip on my waist flexing, his fingers pressing firm like he’s staking a silent claim, daring them to challenge him.
“Let’s not start that fight now,” Axel grumbles, rubbing at his temple. The blood has been cleared from his face but it lingers in red smears along his cheekbones. I swallow down the bile that threatens to rise, remembering whose blood that is, and Axel drops his eyes knowingly. However, when he tries to withdraw his hand, I cling on tighter.
I force a smile, hoping to reassure us both, but the second theexpression stretches across my face, a sharp sting flares in my cheek. I hiss, twisting away from the pain on instinct, and instantly, every single one of them releases me, hands hovering like they’re afraid of making it worse.
“It’s fine,” I mutter, bringing a tentative hand up to my face, feeling the raw scrape of skin where the impact of an elbow has done a number on my cheekbone. The wound throbs under my touch, but it’s nothing compared to what it could have been. “It was worth it.”
The worry in their eyes doesn’t lessen, but I force myself to meet each of their gazes in turn, letting my fingers brush against Axel’s one last time before dropping my hand. “I love you all, too.” The words hang in the air between us, and for the first time since this nightmare began, I feel like I can breathe again.
“That’s enough,” the female paramedic worms her way through my guys to stand before me. “We need to get you to the hospital. Who’s riding with her?” Four hands shoot into the air, which Garrett takes full advantage of, punching each of the Souls in their balls. He jumps into the ambulance, easing me up from behind to lie on the stretcher. A round of curses and groans fills the air, but Garrett only winces when Axel calls him a lowlife bastard.
“Sorry, Axe. These things don’t have favorites, but since I’m Avery’s, I’m sure you’ll understand. We’ll catch up with you guys later.” Without waiting for a response, Garrett jumps onto the stretcher and wriggles all six feet of him to fit on it with me. I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head against his chest as the paramedic mutters something under her breath about juvenile delinquents and starts prepping the ambulance for departure.
Outside, the others are still groaning, Axel clutching his stomach like he’s been mortally wounded, Dax flipping Garrett off while wincing through gritted teeth, and Huxley glaring murderously at him from the sidewalk. Wyatt, of course, is standing stiffly with his jaw clenched, probably calculating how long he needs to wait before exacting revenge.
“You can really be an asshole sometimes, you know that?” I reach down and pound my own fist into his dick. Garrett yelps, but it doesn’t lessen his grin. He just tightens his arms around me as the ambulance doors swing closed behind us.“Yeah, but an asshole you love, so who isthe real fool here?” he drawls, smug and self-satisfied, his breath warm against my temple.
I roll my eyes, feeling the exhaustion begin to creep in now that the adrenaline is finally fading. Allowing my eyelids to flutter closed, I sink into the steady rise and fall of his chest, the distant sound of sirens, the warmth of his presence pressing in from all sides. For the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t have to fight. I don’t have to run. For the first time in months, I can finally rest easy.
Chapter Forty Eight
We pull up the curved driveway and come to an easy stop, all six of us eager to escape the limo that picked us up from the airport hanger. During my short stay at the hospital, Axel was checked over and cleared to fly, to which Wyatt instantly started making plans. Removing the latest cold pack from my cheek, I nudge Garrett to wake him up, his head the weight of a bowling ball on my thighs. Despite the length of the vehicle, Gare stretching out and a muscled Huxley invading my space has easily made it feel small.
The Souls have not left my side for a single second in the past few days, including timing their showers with my need to use the toilet. There is no sanctuary from them now, and I can’t say I mind. It helps to have them close, like yesterday, for example. I’d been so careful to avoid thinking of Nixon until the grief hit me like a ton of bricks out of nowhere. With it, the pain of losing Cathy resurfaced, and I was unconsolable until I cried myself to sleep. There is no doubt that it will happen again, even if Wyatt refuses to acknowledge what we’ve both lost. He won't even say Nixon's name.
Harrison managed to get away. He was injured, his blood splattered across the road, but somehow he managed to slip into the night and avoid all of the police searching for him. His accomplice was shot dead on sight. I’ve been receiving regular updates from the chief investigator,but instinctively, I know Harrison is done with me. He got the bloodshed he wanted.
Wyatt pops the car door, exiting first, with Dax and Axel just after. Hux shifts, holding his hand out for me, and when Garrett tries to follow, Hux shoves his face back into the limo and slams the door shut. The whole dick-punching situation has yet to be forgiven, especially since Hux had to be examined by a handsy doctor when he was worried one of his testicles had rescinded into his body. They haven't.
Garrett pushes the door open again, not phased in the slightest, and whistles at the manor in the glory of the midday sun. The central doorway is rounded, carved into a gray brick building adorned with flowerpots on each windowsill. On either side of the central building, dark wood runs the length of the extensions, with a garage located at the far end. The limo pulls away, rounding a fountain undisturbed by the gentle wind as it trickles water from a three-tiered spout.
We merely stand there, taking in the warm glow spilling from the house and the faint scent of something delicious wafting through the open windows. The front door flies open, and a short, rounded brunette woman rushes out, moving with more energy than her small frame should allow.
“Wyatt!” she cries, whipping her arms around his middle. Her dress is patterned with tiny flowers and sways around her calves, her small black flats barely making a sound against the stone porch. An apron is tied neatly around her waist as if she left something simmering on the stove when she heard the car pull up. “You’ve finally come home.”
Wyatt’s smile is unguarded, the sight temporarily stealing my breath. He folds her into his arms, resting his cheek atop her head. “I promised I would.”
“And Riot is getting rather good at keeping his promises lately,” Garrett quips, casually stomping all over the moment without a hint of self-awareness. The woman releases Wyatt, and he turns her by the shoulders to face us.
“Rachel, this is my family. Dax, Garrett, Avery, Hux, and Axel. Guys, this is Rachel. She’s my mom.” The sheer pride that beams from Wyatt has my heart squeezing. I barely hear the following greetings because I’m too caught up in the sweet grin he’s sporting and the way Rachel gazes up with unabashed love, the kind that asks for nothing inreturn. It’s like catching a glimpse of the man Wyatt could have been if someone had always loved him as unapologetically as Rachel. It's evident in how her eyes gleam when she peers into his face.
Remembering herself, Rachel claps her hands together, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Well, don’t just stand there! Come in, come in! You must all be exhausted.” She shoos us into the house and directs us towards the kitchen, throwing questions along the way.
