“We need to wrap Briar’s hands. Preferably in something fireproof. They weren’t kidding when they said that shit hurts. I still feel the burns in my neck and fingers.”
Short’s eyes widened as she examined his throat.
“She wrapped flames around your neck? Rain—it’s red raw.”
He rubbed at the tender skin. The surface pain was nothing compared to the deep, stabbing agony still pulsing beneath.
“It hurts worse than it looks,” he muttered.
He tied Briar’s wrists behind her back, securing them tightly enough that she couldn’t wriggle free, positioning her hands away from her body.
“Keep an eye on her. She may wake. Stay away from her hands. I’m going to find something fireproof.”
He sprinted into Scarlet’s tower and tore down her curtains; charred black but intact. Fireproof. Perfect.
Using Short’s knife, he ripped the fabric into squares and wrapped each of Briar’s hands separately, binding them securely at the wrists.
He exhaled a long, shaky breath.
Hopefully it would hold.
The sun dipped lower, bleeding gold across the treetops. The shadows lengthened. Time was running out.
Rain looked at the princesses; three pairs of eyes stared back filled with questions, fear, hope, and trauma. The weight of responsibility settled over him like a mantle.
Noticing the older girls clutching their comfort toys, he darted back into the third tower. He tore apart the little fort, gathering their dolls and soft toys, wrapping them in a blanket.
They deserved better.
They deserved everything.
He would fill their bellies with good food.
Give them a home.
Give them safety.
Give them training.
Give them a life.
But for now, they deserved to keep the things that had comforted them through their darkest days.
Drazier had a debt to pay.
Four debts.
Four daughters he had abandoned.
Four lives he had condemned.
Rain vowed to collect that debt; on their behalf, before the year was through.
Chapter 37
This chapter has themes of prevented SA and death.
Problems arose immediately.