Page 8 of Dark Savior

Carter grabbed Raymond under his arms, and I grabbed Raymond’s legs. Grunting, we carried him through the kitchen and out to the garage. With some muttered curses, we got Raymond into the backseat and shut the door. Raymond opened the garage door, and Gretchen climbed into the front passenger seat.

“Let me know what Rachel tells you,” she said, looking at her son.

Carter nodded once, and we headed out to our bikes. “Gonna bother locking the front door?” I asked Carter as I strapped my helmet to my head, watching as Rodney and Gretchen disappeared down the street, headed in the opposite direction we would be going.

Carter shook his head as the garage door shut, Rodney and Gretchen’s bikes already hidden within. “Nope. Make it look like no one’s been here if they come looking again.”

I glanced back at the now closed garage. “Bikes won’t be a giveaway?”

Carter shrugged. “For all those fuckers know, the bikes belong to Granddad and Rachel.” He straddled his bike. “Let’s get the fuck home. My sister’s got some explaining to do.”

Yeah, she did. The problem would be getting her to speak. Rachel was nothing if not closed off. And since she hadn’t opened her mouth yet about why she was really home, I could bet money performing a root canal on someone would be easier than getting Rachel to tell us what was going on.

Rachel

Carter stormed into the clubhouse and pointed a stiff finger at me. I blinked at him in confusion. “What the hell did I do this time?” The only time he got like this was when I’d done something, but fuck, I was staying out of trouble. Sticking to the clubhouse, only going up the street to the gas station for cigarettes and snacks, and keeping to myself.

“Chapel,” he snarled at me.

I sighed and slid off my barstool, leaving my soda where it was. Thankfully, I’d just eaten lunch because the idea of being stuck in the chapel with my angry brother would’ve been enough to kill my appetite. I already knew this wasn’t going to end well. I hated when people came at me sideways and my brother was damn well going to do that.

Carter and I clashed heads when he was angry. He didn’t know how to watch what the fuck he said, and it usually lit a fire within me, too. And since we were both so damn similar, it turned out to be an explosion that would burn everyone near, too.

We were… destructive.

Callan, who was already sitting at the table, silently met my gaze but didn’t say a word as Brittany walked in behind me, closing the chapel doors behind her. I bristled, my jaw tightening. This was definitely an ambush, and I felt cornered.

And when I was cornered, I attacked.

“What?” I snapped at Carter as I turned my attention to him.

“Granddad was found unconscious. Head wound. Severe concussion and some brain swelling. Whole fuckin’ house was trashed, and your room was fucking destroyed.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at him. But on the inside, I felt sick. Granddad had known what he was doing when he sent me away, hadn’t he? The old man would be fine. He had to be. A head wound wouldn’t be enough to take him out… would it?

“You better tell me what the fuck is going on, Rachel.”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, bristling. I wasn’t spilling shit. If Granddad wanted anyone to know, he would’ve reached out. “You think I’m telling you a goddamn thing when you’ve got me trapped in this room, guarding that fucking door like you’re caging me in?”

“This isn’t the time for your fucking bullshit games, Rachel!” Carter shouted at me.

“If Granddad wanted you to know what the fuck was going on, he would’ve told you,” I spat at him. I jabbed my finger in his direction. “Get the fuck out of my face with that bullshit. I may be your blood, but I’m not part of your little club.” I made a sprinkling motion with my fingers, and his eyes darkened, his cheeks flushing with rage. “You can wait until Granddad wakes up and crawl down his throat if you want answers, but you’re not getting shit from me. Especially with your holier than thou fucking attitude.”

Carter shoved away from the door, crowding my space. I tilted my chin up, fucking daring him to do something stupid.

“Back the fuck up,” Callan snapped, suddenly right there beside us, pressing his hand to Carter’s chest. I blinked in surprise. When the hell had he moved? I hadn’t even heard him push back from the table.

Carter swung his angry gaze to Callan. “Who the fuck⁠—”

“You said she was my problem now, remember?” Callan said, arching a brow at Carter. My teeth ground together. What the fuck? I was no one’s problem. “Which means she’s under my fucking protection—even from you. Back up, Carter. You’re too fucking close.”

My eyes widened a fraction, surprised by Callan’s words, and some of my fight died. Callan was standing up to his president to protect me. What the hell…

He looked at Brittany. “Get him out of here.”

Carter sneered at Callan, but Callan ignored him. Brittany gripped Carter’s wrist, pulling him to the door. “You need to chill out anyway,” she told him. “Come on. Let’s get a beer. Take a breather. Maybe smoke a cigarette or two.”

Carter glared at me before Brittany finally tugged him out of the room. Callan shut the door behind them and then walked over to the table, taking a seat again. Silently, he grabbed a cigarette out of his cut and lit it, watching me through the smoke that filled the space around him.