She thought she killed Briggs… Roger. Whoever the fuck he was. She assumed his leg blowing out caused him to fall and the pen drove in and through.
Her relief was overwhelmed with panic and the idea that she did what even my father could not, take a life, when he fell from my shot. By the time the adrenaline receded, she was filled with worry and regret.
I don’t regret it. I won’t regret it. I protected my wife. I saved my own heart with that move. And it’s just one more black hash mark of lives I’ve taken for the family I love.
“I was scared.” She squeezes my hand back.
“I know. But you kept your wits about you. You thought shit through and bought yourself enough time…” I let the thought drift away.
Anywhere past Woodland Park and the fire department wouldn’t have been able to block the road “to service their pumper.” Any later, and I would’ve been too late. I would’ve lost her.
And props to my brother-in-law who straight up disregardedmy ask for an APB. Yes, my father broke the protective order. He knows we can use the video footage if needed, but it also ties Lorien to Briggs in a manner I don’t want officially connected. Her kidnapping and his dead body could be attributed to Seamus—and it will if it comes to it—but implicating my wife is a non-starter, and the two are too closely linked for prying eyes.
Fitz returned to our vehicle, frog marching the man himself and tossing him in the trunk, alongside the corpse of the man who played a role in trying to kill me, long before I knew he was the enemy. I hate that he got one over on me. It will never happen again.
After examining the body, he left us again for damn near an hour. An hour where I held my wife, enraged at her pain, mourning the loss of her innocence, and plotting vengeance against everyone involved. I was this close to telling him I was fucking done and it was time to get Lorien to the hospital when a text came through.
Fitz: Both wounds were through-and-throughs.
Fitz: I found one bullet. Searching for the other. Leave no trace.
I told him later he was a better friend than I deserved. He agreed and unintentionally slapped me on the back, in a spot that had me seeing stars.
That was our delay. He needed to find both projectiles. And he did.
Then he took Lorien to the hospital. We fought. I wanted to be there. But with my knee, my fist, my face, not to mention the bullet wound in my shoulder, every suspicion would lead to me beating my wife. And she deserved better than to have those questions with all that was going on in her head.
While she was being treated, she decided that Fitzgerald was the name of an obscure elf, one with farsight and impeccable aim, who would’ve been a protector of the woods of Lothlórien. Therefore, he was an honorary brother and forever in ourfamily.
Fantasy and make-believe from the woman who deals in facts and data. Only my wife.
I never asked what became of Briggs’ body. I don’t want to know. I know his death was more generous than he deserved and far less painful. I wanted him riddled with fear and praying for death before I finally gave in. In the end, it was unfulfilling, but at least it’s done.
“William?”
“What?”
“I’ve been talking to you and you’ve been… Did you fall asleep?”
Which is better? That I was ignoring her or that what she said wasn’t compelling? Shit. I grab my beard and pull it to a point.
“I’m safe. I’m here and so are you. And your dad?—”
“Don’t call him that.” I gentle my voice and add, “Please.”
“He won’t get away with it.”
“He has for nearly two years.”
“It’s almost over. And you’ll still be standing.”
“We,” I correct. “We’ll still be standing.”
Poe purrs from her place on my chest, still not a fan of Lorien, but tolerating her more than she had on Monday. She spends much of her time rubbing her head against my beard or chest. I swear she does it more so after Lorien touches me. She claims me constantly and seems to want to wipe away Lorien’s scent. I have news for her… that scent is permanent. Under my skin, in my nostrils. And, I so wish, on my cock. Soon. Please, Jesus, say it’ll be soon.
Lorien
“So what do you want?” It’s an odd question and one that comes out of nowhere.
