See me, big guy, please, feel me. See me. Come back to me.
I beg him wordlessly as I relax into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut as everything starts to go dark. If I die here, at his hands, then so be it. But I know that will kill him, more than she ever could, so I fight, hanging on as long as I can, having hope that he isn’t too far gone.
That he can chase those demons away and come back to me.
Please, come back to me.
“Baby?” he croaks, his words pained, and my eyes snap open.
His mouth drops open, his eyes blinking rapidly, and I know it’s him. He looks down at his hand and yells, jerking it away. I fall forward, weak, sucking in desperate breaths. I hear him tugging on his chains, no doubt to get to me. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” I croak, and I feel him freeze next to me.
“Baby, God, I’m sorry. Fuck, God, I’m so sorry—” I lift my head, hearing the pain in his voice and seeing the tears in his eyes. “I couldn’t see you, I couldn’t, I swear, I thought it was her, I thought it was her,” he sobs, big racking ones that shake his entire body, and no matter how tired, how weak I’m feeling, I drag my ass over to him and lay against his chest, pressing my forehead to his as I cup his cheeks and wipe away his tears.
“I know, shush, I’m here. I’m sorry I didn’t get here quicker, but she will never hurt you again, I promise. God, babe, I’m sorry,” I whisper, my own tears dropping onto his face.
Just two broken souls meeting in a blood-stained bedroom, both lost until we are in each other’s arms. His pain is mine, and right now, I wish I could take it all away. Drain it from him. I want my cruel, mean asshole back, the one afraid of nothing, but right now, he needs to be weak.
He needs me to hold him while he’s vulnerable so he can be that man again, so he can find his way back. So even though I know we need to move, I hold him, kissing across his face. “It’s okay, I’m here, she’s gone.” I just keep repeating it.
“Baby?” he croaks eventually, and I look back at those eyes. “I hate you,” he whispers, a small smile covering his trembling lips.
“I hate you too,” I whisper, as I lean down and kiss him softly. “We better get going, big guy, that okay?”
He nods and sucks in a breath, seeming to regain control of himself a bit. “Yeah, are the others here?” he asks, clearing his throat.
“Downstairs,” I say, as I sit up and undo his other hand before crawling down the bed and unfastening his feet. Once he’s free, he tries to sit up but collapses back, no doubt from blood loss and shock. I help prop him up. “Take your time.”
“Where is she?” he snarls, and I point over the edge of the bed.
“Dead, sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” I shrug, knowing he probably wanted to do the honours.
“Good,” he snaps, and sucks in a breath, scooting to the edge of the bed. I get to my feet, holding my arms out in case he falls as he grabs the bed and hoists himself up, wincing in agony.
“We just gotta get downstairs, big guy, then we’re going home,” I assure him, and he looks at me and gives me a fucking heartbreaking smile.
“Wherever you are is home,” he whispers.
“Yeah, you’ve lost too much blood, you’ll hate yourself for that later,” I tease. “But don’t worry, I’ll remind you that you said that when you’re calling me a brat again.”
He snorts and then groans in pain, his arm covering his chest. He has small knife marks and puncture wounds everywhere, too many to count, which is probably why there’s so much blood. He’s also naked, so I hurry away until I find some sweats and then kneel at his feet. “Use my head, let me help you,” I offer, as I hold them there.
He grips my hair, lifting one foot after the other, as I tug the sweats on before I get to my knees and pull them all the way up, covering him. I can’t ask if she hurt him that way, not yet, but if he wants to talk about it, I’m here. I won’t pressure him. I’m just so fucking glad he’s alive.
Getting to my feet, I wrap his arm around my shoulders, and we lumber from the room. He manages to hold some of his weight, but the farther we walk, the harder he’s leaning into me. It’s slow going, and when we hit the stairs, I can’t hear any more fighting. Each step is agony for him, and I have to grit my teeth at the pressure on my body.
By the time we reach the bottom, we’re both panting and covered in sweat. I manoeuvre him around the bodies, making sure none are my guys. I spot Sam in the corner and freeze for a second. His eyes are empty and unseeing, his face pale, his gun on the floor next to him like he dropped it, and there’s a hole in his chest.
Swallowing hard, I turn away, knowing I need to get Garrett free. The guys will meet me out there, I know it. They have to. We head through the front door and up the driveway, each step slower than the last, until I’m grunting, holding nearly all his weight. “Come on, big guy, stay fucking with me, okay? Not much farther.”
“Love you, baby,” he slurs, and I look up to see his face is pale and way too much blood is dripping from his chest.
“Oh no you fucking don’t, hold on!” I demand, and he snorts again.
“So bossy,” he murmurs.
“You know it, so fucking listen to me for once, you wanker.” I drag him as far as I can, just passing the gate, when I hear a noise and glance back.
As I hold Garrett against me, I see Ryder striding towards us. He slips his head under Garrett’s other shoulder and helps me. Kenzo isn’t far behind, but he’s holding his stomach and wincing, otherwise he seems okay.
“Where’s D?” I ask in concern, just as I see him stroll from the house with a cigarette in his mouth. He waves at me casually before flicking it back at the house and running towards us.
It takes all of three seconds.
The house explodes.
Chapter Fifty-Five
DIESEL
Garrett is in a bad way. He’s pale and losing a lot of blood. We manage to get him into the back seat. We leave Tony to clean up and bring number one, as his tattoos indicated, back home to us. All that matters right now is our family.
Our broken family. Kenzo is hurt. Garrett is dying…he can’t fucking die.
I can’t lose him.
Panic surges through me until I smash my head into the dashboard to silence it. Ryder glances over, grim-faced, as he starts the car and backs away. “Can’t die, die, no die, can’t die.” I don’t even know I’m talking until a slap lands across my head.
“He’s not fucking dying, you hear me? So shut the fuck up, D!” she screams, and I look back to see the tears in her eyes. Her dress is torn and covered in blood, and the terror in her eyes is because, despite her yell, she’s worried he will.
“Little Bird,” I whisper, trying to help her, but Garrett groans just then, and she turns back to him.
“I’m here, big guy, I’m here,” she whispers, and his eyes open slightly.