They were battered and bruised, but they’d survived.
Thanks to the aid of James Luther, who’d provided overwatch and eliminated a team of armed contractors about to overwhelm them.
Luther, the same former militia member who’d set fire to Noah’s home with Milo sleeping inside. The same man who’d turned informant and helped them beat the militia.
Liam despised him, too, but the man had saved their lives. Unsure what to do with Luther, Liam had stashed him in a safe house outside of Fall Creek.
But that was a problem for later. They had more immediate concerns.
Lee returned with a jug of sterilized water, canisters of salt, and a stack of bandages and set them on the counter. He pulled medical supplies from the cabinets that shared space with beakers, petri dishes, and microscopes for science classes. The air smelled of Betadine and bleach.
“Is anything broken?” Hannah asked Evelyn. “Will she be okay?”
“Check her ribs,” Liam said.
Evelyn shot him an exasperated look. “Already done. I am a medical professional, you know.” She finished her examination. “Quinn, you’re extremely lucky. No broken ribs. Several deep bruises and lacerations we’ll need to take care of, though, including that hand.”
Lee brought over the supplies from the counter. He handed Evelyn a water bottle.
“This is a homemade solution of saline,” she said. “We’ll use it to flush your wounds, remove debris and bacteria, and inhibit its growth. Salt draws moisture from bacteria, which destroys it.”
Using a clean nail, she punctured a hole in the container and squeezed, using the narrow stream of saltwater solution to clean the cuts in Quinn’s hand.
Quinn winced.
Evelyn patted Quinn’s shoulder. “You need to rest and recuperate. You understand?”
Dully, Quinn nodded.
“And you,” Evelyn admonished Liam. “For once, you must take it easy—”
A commotion came from the hallway. Voices raised. Rapid footsteps.
Liam’s heart rate spiked. Ignoring the flare of pain, he reached for his Glock.
Liam
Day One Hundred and Two
The staccato click, click, click of a cane echoed off the tile floor. “Where is she?”
Lee attempted to block the door. “Molly, you shouldn’t see her like this—”
“Don’t you presume to tell me what I can and cannot do!” Molly snapped. “Try and stop me, see what happens. I guarantee it’ll be over my dead body! Or more accurately, yours!”
Liam let out his breath and released his hold on the Glock.
Molly pushed Lee aside, who threw up his hands in defeat and stepped back. “Yes ma’am.”
The old woman hobbled into the room, cane smacking the floor, sharp blue eyes peering from the wrinkled span of her face.
With an abashed expression, Lee trailed after her.
Molly caught sight of her and blanched. She gave a sharp, startled gasp. “Oh.”
She’d probably planned a royal tongue lashing to put her rebellious granddaughter back in her place. The horrific sight of the beaten, bloodied girl was enough to stay anyone’s tongue with pity. Even Molly’s.
Quinn looked up through the matted locks of her hair. A mix of dread, guilt, and longing tinged her swollen features.
“Gran.” Her face crumpled. “I’m—I didn’t mean—I’m sorry.”
“Hush, child.” Molly’s cane clattered to the floor. She shrugged off the Mossberg 500 shotgun, leaned it against the wall, and shuffled to her granddaughter.
She leaned forward and cupped the girl’s mangled face in her hands with incredible gentleness, as if cradling a fragile baby chick.
Before she could say anything, the hulking form of Atticus Bishop filled the doorway, his billowy afro making him appear even larger. Pastor of Crossway Church on Main Street by day, super soldier by night.
“Where’s my girl?” he boomed.
Three more figures crowded into the room. Dave Farris, the owner of Fall Creek Inn, ham radio aficionado, and town council member, and Jose Reynoso, the newest Fall Creek Police Chief. He was quiet and easy-going, solid as a rock.
Samantha Perez shouldered in behind them, her short black hair pushed behind her ears, an aggrieved scowl on her face. Her law enforcement uniform was wrinkled, and fatigue lined her bronze skin.
For a moment, the medical ward went dead silent as everyone absorbed the shock of Quinn’s condition.
Dave removed his winter cap and twisted it in his hands. His warm smile didn’t fade, though his weathered face lost some color. “We’ve been worried sick for both of you.”
Never one to mince words, Perez flat out asked what everyone was thinking. “What the hell happened?”
In a halting voice, Quinn told them. Her meeting with Xander Thorne and his crazy band of nihilists in the woods. How she’d glimpsed Mattias Sutter. Her rash decision to go after them and kill him herself.
How Sutter had gained the upper hand and outed her, though they’d both ended up in Xander’s makeshift prison cell. The attack on the warehouse.
Their escape as she fought side by side with a killer. How when Sutter had turned on her, she’d stabbed him.
Everyone listened in rapt silence.
“How did you know where to find me?” Quinn asked.
“Milo,” Hannah said.
With a wince, Quinn closed her eyes and nodded.
“You gave me a heart attack,” Molly said. “I could’ve died from worry. You’ve got good people who give a damn. Pardon my French, pastor. Don’t go taking that for granted.”
“I know,” Quinn said through split lips.
Molly jabbed her withered finger at Liam. “That goes for you, too, big soldier.”
Bishop shook his head, guilt in his eyes. “I should have gone with you.”
Liam waved a weary hand. “I asked you to keep them safe. They are. You did everything I needed you to do.”
“Still, you shouldn’t have to go it alone. No soldier should ever be alone. I should’ve had your six.”
Liam shrugged him off. The attention made him uncomfortable. As a Delta Force Operator, he’d had a team of brothers. His army unit always had his back.