Page 73 of Fatal Fantasy

We stay this way for awhile – intertwined in the middle of the room – until Carter clears her throat, the sobs finally coming to a stop as she pulls away from me, effectively pushing Tyson off her back.

“I don’t love Tyson more than you,” she says softly, a hint of fear in her words, but I shake my head, not even letting her attempt to explain what she means.

“Don’t let him get inside your head, my little ice princess. He’s trying to make you think we’ll turn on you, planting seeds of doubt in your mind. I love you, all the way to Hell and fucking back, and I know how much you love us, too.” I assure her, grasping her chin between my thumb and index finger, ensuring she stares right into my eyes, and believes the words leaving my lips.

“He was there. In the basement,” she whispers, a shudder working through her body as goosebumps return to her tanned skin, the memories seemingly coming back in waves.

Tyson ushers her to follow him back to the bed, and against every alarm bell whirring in my head, I escort her too, leaving my post at the window unarmed.

Carter needs us right now, and with at least two pistols on the nightstand, I think the birds will be okay if I take a break from stalking them for a few minutes.

“He had to have been there. My father has a … viewing room. For the men who betray the oath, or fuck him over. Anyone can watch from the two-way mirror, and the victim would have no idea who’s on the other side. He was there to see how broken down I was before signing a contract.” She snuggles into Ty’s chest, holding her injured arm in the air until I slink underneath, resting my head on her shoulder as she exhales a breath now that we’re all together again.

“It’s okay, baby girl. We’re going to end every single person who had even an inkling of an idea of what was being done to you, that much I can promise.” Tyson kisses her forehead, a reassuring gesture following a bold declaration, but he’s completely right, we will hunt down everyone responsible for the pain she’s in.

“I’m sorry, Principessina. For overreacting, and breaking the phone, but … you’re not his wife. You belong to us.” I turn her until she’s facing me, trailing the pad of my thumb along her cheek bone until I reach her jaw line, watching as my slightest touch forces her eyes to flutter shut as she exhales a deep breath.

“Honestly, I feel better, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Having that phone was a constant reminder of my father, and the fact that he could call any second was like a pit in my stomach. I just want this to be over,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, and I feel useless, like I can’t do anything to make the pain go away.

It’s an awful thing, helping someone heal from their trauma but unable to erase it, to rid their body of the hurt that’s attacking them, instead, having to teach them how to live through the nightmares, or constant reminders.

“How can we help, Carter? What do you need?” I ask, giving her the space to work through this, and offering her the world on a silver platter, ready to do whatever it is she needs, big or small.

“I just need you both to hold me. To keep the nightmares away,” she pleads with her eyes, a tiny gesture for us, but a huge ask for the girl who used to be independent, and would threaten to stab us if we attempted to assist her in the slightest.

“It would be our honor, baby girl,” Tyson says, flipping the covers until she crawls under the comforter, her body landing right between us, where she belongs.

The three of us were raised without emotions, told that the human mind is a weakness, but we’re breaking those cycles, learning how to take care of one another through the hardest of times.

After a few minutes, Carter’s light snoring begins to fill the silence, and I catch Tyson’s eyes as he stares at her, pure adoration painted on his face. I consider myself the luckiest bastard on the planet, because for some reason, the universe gave Carter and Tyson back to me, after I thought I’d lost them both forever, and for that, I’ll always have something to be thankful for.

Living without them was maddening, almost sending me to an early grave, but I’ll never let either of them go, not again.

It was nearly impossible to function without my brother, and the girl worth every sunrise, but as we face something that’s scary, something we may not survive, all I can do is be the glue that keeps us together.

FORTY

CARTER

Just after daybreak, the birds chirp right outside the window, their way of waking up the world, letting us all catch up as they grab the worm, and although the exhaustion is weighing down my bones, I squirm underneath Tyson’s heavy arms, realizing that the other half of my heart is missing.

Jasper’s side of the bed is empty, the covers pulled up as if he slipped out after I dozed off, but I have an idea where he’s been.

The protective side of him hasn’t taken a second off since I was shot yesterday, and I’ve felt the tension radiating off him, the way he’s been wound up so tightly.

It’s unlike him to be so serious, but with the deck stacked so highly against us, I know he’s doing everything to keep the three of us together.

Quietly, I slip out of bed, letting Tyson catch up on the sleep his body so desperately needs, padding across the floor in nothing but Jasper’s t-shirt, and a pair of panties.

The cabin is dead silent, my tiny footsteps creaking along the hard wood, but Jasper doesn’t seem to notice, his focus aimed out the front window, the butt of the gun resting on the chair between his legs.

He’s so fucking handsome, the dark hair falling just above his eyes, but his energy is what lures me into a trance, like he’d burn down this entire planet to keep Tyson and I safe.

A strange feeling surges through me, one I don’t recognize, but as my heart swells in my chest, and butterflies flutter around my belly, I think I’m able to pinpoint it: happiness.

An emotion so foreign that my body can barely process it, but even as the world is crashing down at my sides, and the things I’m planning are so despicable, for once, I feel happy.

For all the reasons why I’m fucked up morally, this instance of being cheerful when I’m about to murder my father certainly lands on the list, but after everything I’ve been through, I’m choosing to roll with it.