With that, Saint kicked at Roach’s body, double-checking my handiwork.
Dylan followed me out.
The dogs followed Dylan.
If I thought we all looked like a horror movie, it was nothing compared to the clubhouse.
Saint must have flicked on the lights as he cleared the house. Every splash, splatter, and pool of blood was painfully on display. As were the mangled bodies of the club men.
If I’d been expecting some kind of regret or remorse, it never came.
Every single one of them had a part in drugging and exploiting unwilling women. They’d likely all taken turns abusing them themselves.
They had it coming to them.
Even if the mess was a little hard to stomach with the adrenaline and rage draining.
“I’ll come out when I’m done,” Dylan said as she stopped outside the doorway to the kitchen.
“Hey,” I said, grabbing her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “You’ve got this. You’ve waited a year for this. You’re free. They’re free. It’s all over. They just need your strength now. For what comes next. You’ve got more than enough to lend them some.”
Her eyes went watery again.
But she quickly blinked the moisture away.
“Hey, Colter?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I’m in too,” she said.
Then, in a mildly chickenshit move, she ducked quickly into the kitchen, knowing I wouldn’t follow.
I didn’t.
I just stood there for a moment, letting the words sink in, feeling them spread across my chest. The pleasure of it chased away all the various pains that had started to nag at me.
When Syn moved out of the kitchen, Saint appeared out of nowhere, jerking his head toward the front of the building.
“Realistically, how much can you pull it together?” he asked.
“I can do whatever Slash wants us to do.”
“They are four or five hours out, max. But these bodies are going to stiffen up by then. And, well, we don’t really need the girls seeing this.”
“You want to move the bodies,” I concluded.
“I want them in the woods. Out of sight of the road and the girls. The guys will help us start digging when they get here. They’re bringing the gear we will need.”
“Alright. Let’s get moving then,” I said.
I was favoring my arm and ribs.
Saint was trying to pretend he wasn’t babying his knee.
And Syn was attempting not to show his brother the way his one arm dangled.
I didn’t rat him out. I just lent my good arm and helped him drag each body, one by one, outside.
