I move closer, crouching beside him. “Pierce, look at me.” I place a hand on his shoulder. “We need to let Estelle take care of Ash now. We have to go.”
His head turns slowly, eyes focusing on mine with visible effort. “I can’t leave her,” he whispers. “Not again. Not like this.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, choking me up. I grip his shoulder tighter.
“This is different,” I tell him. “This time, leaving is how we protect her. Do you understand?”
Beckett takes a knee next to me and wraps his thick fingers around Pierce’s wrist.
“Pierce, we do this together as a pack. You, me, and Liam.” He pulls Pierce’s arm from Ash’s back.
“Okay.” He nods but he doesn’t move, like he can’t quite make his body obey.
Estelle wiggles between Beckett and Pierce, scooping her arms around Ash. “Babe, I got you. Let’s sit on the bed.”
Once physical contact is broken and Ash is out of his arms, Pierce regains some of his senses. Beckett is able to pull him to his feet.
“I’ve got her,” Estellesays, rubbing Ash’s back. “Go. Now.”
Pierce moves first, pulling himself together with visible effort. He crouches down, brings his face level with Ash’s.
“I’m coming back for you,” he says, his voice rough. “I promise.”
She blinks, the first sign that she’s still present in her body. A tear slides down her cheek, joining the blood and brain matter. Pierce stands abruptly and heads for the door without looking back. If he pauses, if he hesitates, he might not leave at all.
And that might be the smartest move. I push Beckett toward the door.
“Call me as soon as the police leave,” I say over my shoulder.
Closing that door is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
Chapter fifty-three
PIERCE
Threepairsofshoesstand around the mess. Red. With chunks. Splatter.
The torn grocery bag floats away on the breeze.
“I’ll get the hose,” I say finally, but my feet don’t follow the command. I crouch down and methodically pinch the larger shards of glass first. It didn’t shatter completely on the walk, more like the glass just gave up and cracked into five or six big pieces. The lid is even still attached.
“Well,” Liam says, clearing his throat. “I’m never going to look at spaghetti sauce the same way again.”
It’s a terrible joke. But we laugh anyway. Liam strips a bag off the gallon of milk so I can safely collect the pieces of the broken sauce jar.
“You okay?” Liam asks me.
The question irritates me only a little. The two of them have been doing that tiptoeing through egg shells shit for a few days now. I get it. But it’s still irritating having them ask me constantly if I’m okay. I don’t think I am, but that’s beside the point, and they don’t need to know that right now.
I nod without looking up, still picking glass from the sauce splatter. “Just don’t want anyone stepping on this.”
I hear Beckett’s quick intake of breath. I can predict what he’s going to say at this point.
“She should be here, with us. We should be taking care of her.”
Nailed it.
“We agreed to give Ash space. She’s safe at Bella’s house. In Bella’s nest. There’s a stuffed elephant…” He trails off, not needing to finish the speech he’s given a hundred times a day.
