Claimed (Outlaws #1)

But he’d tried, damn it. He’d tried to be what Maggie wanted, because he’d loved her and he’d wanted to make her happy. After her death, he’d finally allowed the depressing truth to sink in. Maggie had been wrong. Not just in her attempt to change him, but about the way she viewed the world.

“Her father sheltered her,” he said bleakly. “Maggie and her sisters grew up on an isolated farm. They’d never encountered bandits or Enforcers, never witnessed the kind of violence that existed beyond their little slice of paradise. Their father didn’t even bother teaching them self-defense, because he thought they were safe from the rest of the world, that nothing bad could ever touch them.” Connor angrily shook his head. “She never stood a chance.”

Hudson squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, hard and desperate, because she was the lifeline keeping him from drowning in the memories.

Maggie’s lifeless body on the dirt. The bullet hole in her forehead. Her sisters. The others.

“Dominik murdered them,” Connor choked out. “I know my people, Hudson – they would have surrendered the moment he and his men showed up. None of them were trained. None of them would have fought back. Which means he opened fire on unarmed people who weren’t even a threat to him.”

Hudson’s breathing became labored. “What happened when you returned to camp?”

“I heard the gunfire from the woods and made my way back, but it had stopped by the time I reached the outskirts of camp. There were no screams, no shots. Just silence.”

It was macabre as fuck, but he’d always wondered if Maggie had screamed when the Enforcers had come. If she’d screamed when she’d watched her friends and family die. If she’d screamed before she’d died. Or had she still held on to hope in her final moments? Believed everything would be okay? That had been her favorite phrase. Everything will be okay, Con. I know it.

She hadn’t known a damn thing.

“I hid in the trees,” he said. “I watched the Enforcers leave the house and head for their vehicles, and I heard them talking. One of them sounded upset about what they’d done, said it wasn’t right. His buddy told him that orders were orders, and that Dominik wanted them to send a message to any outlaws who tried going against the council.”

“They used to give the outlaws a choice. Rejoin society, or face imprisonment.” Hudson’s voice shook. “Cold-blooded murder goes against their code, or at least that’s what my father told me.”

“Well, there was no fucking code that day,” Connor muttered. “And believe me, Dominik looked damn pleased with himself when he joined his men. He told them there was no point in disposing of the bodies. He said to let them rot.” His fists clenched, and Hudson yelped, a reminder that he was still holding her hand. He quickly loosened his grip. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay.” She swept her fingertips over his knuckles in a soothing gesture.

“I’ll never forget the look in his eyes. And that smirk, like he was proud of what he’d done. I could have opened fire on him then. On all of them. They would have fired back, and I’d be dead, but at least I could’ve taken a few of them down before that happened. But there was a chance some of my people were still alive, that Maggie was still alive, so I waited until they drove away and then I went back to camp.” His heart twisted. “I should have killed Dominik when I had the chance.”

“They were all dead?” Hudson whispered.

“Every single one of them.”

She moved closer, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Oh, Connor. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” Shame bubbled in his throat. “It was my job to protect them. To protect her.”

“You were hunting to provide for them. You couldn’t have known the Enforcers would attack.”

“I told you – I knew they were in the area. I should have put my foot down and ordered everyone to pack up. I shouldn’t have listened to Maggie.”

Hudson sighed. “You did what you thought was right at the time.”

“I did what was right for her. Not for the group, and certainly not for me, not when my gut told me it was a mistake. What the fuck kind of leader does that make me? I let my wife’s big eyes and foolish pleas guilt me into making the worst possible decision for the group.” He cursed loudly. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be a leader. I never wanted that responsibility.”

He fumbled in his back pocket for the cigarettes he’d stashed there. His fingers shook as he lit a smoke and sucked on it so hard it gave him a head rush.

“I’ve been making decisions for other people my whole life. I took care of my mother after my father died. I took care of our whole group.”

Resentment whipped through him, and he took another drag, then another, and another, until nothing but nicotine surged through his blood, alleviating that feeling of pure helplessness.

“I never asked to be anyone’s leader. I don’t want people relying on me, and I sure as hell don’t want to be responsible for anyone’s life but my own.”