I swallow back bile as my fingers go to work. “They messaged me saying where they’d taken you, saying I was to come alone in two hours.”
“Trust you not to follow orders.”
I try to smile, but it’s hard when Ansel’s hurting. “Nah. I’ve never been very good at that. Why let them think they’re calling the shots when we are?”
A clamp comes loose, and my heart breaks as Ansel sobs.
I keep talking as I work, desperate to keep him distracted. “Wylder, Matthias, and Dalton took down the guards outside while I came in to distract them from what was happening. Harley was busy infiltrating the first floor. He’s the best sniper among us. He couldn’t take the shot until the gun was pointing away from you though. That’s why I let Vex think he’d killed me.”
“You’re…an…idiot,” Ansel gasps through his agony.
“Hey, I had a vest on. You should be proud.”
Ansel glares at me, quite a feat given how swollen his eyes are from tears. “What if he’d aimed at your head?”
I shrug. “Well, then we would’ve had to hope Harley’s trigger finger moved faster.”
“It would’ve,” Harley says confidently. “I would’ve killed the fucker before he took down Cade.”
I’m on the final clamp now. “But it only worked because you warned us about the house, Ansel. We wouldn’t have been able to get away with the plan if we didn’t know about the bugs.”
Ansel didn’t just refuse to betray my family; he protected us.
And now I’ll protect him for the rest of my life. It’s my solemn vow.
The last clamp falls to the floor, and Ansel can’t contain his pain. A fresh wail bursts from him as his shoulders cave forward.
Behind me, there’s a curse followed by a gunshot.
“He’s sadly still alive,” Samson says gruffly. “Just removed an elbow for you, though.”
I don’t comment, too busy watching Ansel’s face closely, my heart aching as the waves of pain wash over him. Frustration pricks through the field of rage surrounding me. “Don’t we have anything we can give him?”
Matthias calls out to Wylder, who’s still outside. A few moments later, he’s beside me, the bag from the car clutched between his hands. He assembles a syringe quickly before giving Ansel a reassuring smile. “Just a small prick and all the pain will go away.”
Ansel chuckles weakly. “Think I can handle that.”
He can. My butterfly is so fucking strong. All this pain they put him through, and he didn’t break.
“Put tourniquets on Vex,” I mutter to Wylder. “Don’t let him die before I’ve had my fun.”
Wylder’s no doctor, but we all know enough about battlefield injuries to make do. More often than not, our skills are called for in situations just like this.
When we’re not ready to let our enemy die.
Wylder goes to do that, leaving me to inject Ansel. I insert the needle into the crook of his arm and press on the plunger. “Don’t worry, my love. This will make you go to sleep now, and when you wake up, you’ll be safe.”
“Why do I feel like this is déjà vu?”
“Because it is. Now sleep. You’re safe.”
“I know that,” he says, half-dazed from pain, and the other half from the drugs now flooding his system. “I’m with you. You’ll always protect me.”
Ansel is asleep upstairs, tucked in, and being cared for by Dr. Ramsey. I know he’ll take care of Ansel, make sure his hands and arms are put back together again. I was very clear that he needed to do the best job he could.
He just glowered at me until I left the room.
Fuck, the sight of Ansel’s hands will forever be etched into my memory. Bruised, crooked, bleeding. It makes fury rise up inside of me, my vision turning red, my breathing labored. I take the steps two at a time down to the cellar. It’s where Wylder stores all his wine, whiskey, and aged cheese. But in the far corner is a small hidden space where we bring the worst of the worst, where I can give in to my most deviant impulses.
