Him and Rafe both gripped their bikes.
We follow the missing kids,I kicked back the bike stand,and we’ll find him.
I was right. We caught the trail of Viktor Shaw’s evil only five kids in. A missing boy. Five years old.Henry. I let the boy haunt me like he was already dead, because I knew a piece of him was the moment Viktor had him, but I also knew there was still something to save and that…that was worth driving fast, driving reckless, the rain beating down and the wheels jerking but never shying away from my purpose. I drove like Thorne—hands light on the handles but taking every turn sharp, weaving through traffic and letting the bike eat away at all my fear. It felt like waking up from a really long, really unforgiving slumber, breathing in the chill of autumn in the air and lettingthe withering colors of the passing trees look as if the world was finally burning in my favor.
?Arden?
The motel we stopped at was abandoned and dirty, graffiti covering the premises. It was ruins, and it was exactly the kind of place we knew we could rest. We’d followed Viktor and Henry’s trail for two days straight, stopping only for coffee and quick naps, always keeping our helmets on in gas stations. I caught sight of our mug shots on the TVs a few times, the manhunt to find us on-going. So we kept moving. We couldn’t get caught or trapped before we saved Henry. It was a silent but crucial pact between us all. That little boy was a symbol as sure as my Creed and Raven tattoos were.
Kane kicked in the half-decayed door to one of the motel’s rooms. It had obviously been used as a junkie hideout, old syringes and trash littered throughout. Dingy sheets clung to the equally dingy mattress, something skittering about in the far corner.
Kane scratched his chin.The woods?
I nodded.I’ll take a forest floor over black mold any day.
He gave a salute and led the way out back behind the motel where we’d stashed our bikes out of sight of any passing vehicles. Then he batted away branches and crunched into the woods, my steps directly behind his. I held back each branch as we went, my worried gaze casting toward Rafe trailing behind me. I think if I hadn’t, he would’ve just let the branches berate him.
“Kane?” I whispered, then added quickly. “Don’t turn around. I don’t want Rafe to know.”
Kane’s shoulders bunched beneath the black hoodie he’d taken from the Ravens. The fabric was tight over his bulging muscles and had suffered a few tears, patches of his inked skin revealed beneath.
“Rafe. I don’t know that he should do this with us,” I said honestly. “He isn’t…there.”
“He’s surviving the best he can, Arden.”
I frowned. “He’s not. He’s completely shut down. Maybe we should drop him off somewhere.”
“That would kill him and you know it,” he asserted, but he hesitated, slowing down a little as he led us through the woods. “You saw his hands?”
“They’re ruined,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “And he’s dissociating, Kane. Like he used to.”
Kane cleared his throat. “You know, my first year in prison, an agent interviewed me. He told me that Rafe said he shot Thorne and helped me kill those people at Hotel Viktoria. I thought the agent told me that to trip me up, thought that was all it was, but then I started thinking about Thorne’s death from Rafe’s perspective.” His voice turned gruff at the mention of his crimes, his breathing unsteady. “Rafe has always seen himself as a protector, Arden. He probably felt responsible for it all and, fuck, I didn’t help. At all. The last I saw him, I was yelling at him about a promise he once made me to keep Thorne safe.”
“Kane,” I said, hugging my stomach, “no one could’ve stopped that bullet. It’s not his fault.”
“I know that now. I was just in pain.” Kane flexed his hands. “We need to show him that we forgive him, Arden.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I swore.
“To Rafe, that’s not the case.”
“Even if I were to try to talk to him, I don’t know that he’d hear me.”
“It worked once before,” Kane said. He cast a glance over his shoulder to give me a firm look before he stopped in his tracks, his eyes darting behind me. “Where is he?”
I spun around but Rafe wasn’t there. “He was right behind me,” I said frantically. I searched the shadows of the trees.
Kane hurried past me. “I’ll go this way. You search over there,” he demanded.
I didn’t hesitate to follow through. I ran into the trees, not caring if I could find my way back or not. “Rafe!” I shouted even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. I couldn’t help it, panic bleeding through me. I felt such a keen sense of dread. I knew something was wrong. I shoved aside branches and vines, my head whipping to the side at the sound of a solidthump. I caught the glint of moonlight against unruly dark hair and sprinted forward. I slammed to a stop in the leaves, my chest heaving and eyes wide as Rafe punched and kicked at a thick tree. His hands were bleeding through his bandages, furious tears carving down his cheek as he battered himself again and again. I closed the distance without thinking, sliding between him and the tree as his fists came down. He punched my cheek so hard I was knocked back, gritting my teeth as I grabbed onto the tree. My nostrils flared as he didn’t break out of his trance, his fist coming for me again. I ducked just in time before I let out a frustrated shout and drove myself into his chest, shoving against him as hard as I could. Rafe fell back into mulch, a grunt leaving him.He tried to just whip up and go again, but I dropped into a straddle over him and pressed my hands into his shoulders. I knew he could pick me up off him with ease so I dug my nails in.
“Rafe!” I shouted again, shaking him as he began to pry me off him. My stomach twisting, I raised a hand and slapped him across the cheek as hard as I could. I didn’t want to, but I didn’t know what else to do.
Nothing. He was still gone, still angry and shaking.
I shook my head. Then I cupped his chin and crushed my mouth down to his. I pressed hard, desperately, even as everything inside me screamed in retaliation. Then, like a balm, any bit of fear I had toward the man beneath me leaked away when his grip softened at my waist. But before the kiss could deepen, he brought a hand to my back and balled it in my jacket, yanking me back from his mouth. The look on his face fucking killed me. It was him. It wasfinallyhim looking back at me, and he was…broken. Just pieces of the Rafe I had a date with on that balcony in Los Angeles.
“Re—” The sound left him, his entire body trembling in pain, not only from his torn throat but from life itself. “Real?” The word was a mess from his mouth, the syllable long and tortured.
