You not we because Crown isn’t the type to run from anything. No, even if it meant his death at Cat’s hands, he’d stay and face the music all alone, leaving me to ride off into the sunset on the back of another man’s bike. That’s just who he is. Disturbingly righteous in his own way.
I shove away from him and stumble, only to fall into someone else’s arms.
My head whips around to find Beast looming over me, his face bloodied and bruised, burns along both of his bare forearms. My new husband is alive. He’s alive. With a small cry that I’ll probably regret making later, I turn and let myself fall against him.
“You’re alive,” I whisper, even though that’s an obvious fact at this point. “You’re alive.”
“I failed you, sugar,” he says, stroking a hand over my hair in a way that isn’t dissimilar to the way that Crown just touched me. “I failed you.”
As if getting knocked down by a bomb blast and shielding me with his body was akin to failure in any way.
“Where’s Grainger?” I ask as Crown moves over to stand beside us.
The two men exchange a look, and fury fills me in a glittering red wave. I shove back from Beast so hard that I stumble again. Only Crown’s hand on my elbow keeps me upright.
“Where. is. Grainger?” I grind out, feeling my body begin to shake. I’m hurt. Not as badly as I was after the motorcycle accident, but I need medical attention, a soft bed, and a bucket of cool water to drink.
“On his way to the hospital, honey,” Beast tells me, but this time, there is no comfort for me in his pretty Southern drawl. I feel sick. Hospitals are a last resort for the club; we treat most all injuries here on the compound. Even me, when I pulled the lace of my original wedding dress down to reveal a gunshot wound to the chest, I was treated here.
For someone in the club to actually go to a hospital is bad news.
“Sin?” I whisper, terrified to hear their answer. Please don’t be dead. Goddamn it, Sin, if you’re dead, I’ll … I’ll find you in the next life and kill you myself. Beast and Crown exchange a look before turning back to me again.
“Also en route,” Beast tells me, his voice far gruffer than I’ve ever heard it, thick with emotion.
“Fuck,” I groan, my body sagging against Crown’s. He keeps me up easily, as if I weigh nothing at all, and my eyes close of their own accord. Blackness creeps in at the edges of my vision, but I won’t allow myself to give into sweet, blissful nothingness. No, I’m stronger than that.
I once compared myself to a resurrection fern. That is, a type of fern that grows on the trunks of mature trees, but without harming them. The reason I felt this was an apt metaphor is that I was trying to explain to Crown how I can exist inside the club’s strict hierarchy without being parasitic. I am my own entity. I exist on my own, with a little help from the trees.
Right now? Here’s what I can say about myself: the resurrection fern can live for a hundred years in a dead state. It can lose up to ninety-seven percent of its water while other plants die with just a ten-percent loss.
That’s me. Living dead for years. Suffering losses that would cripple others.
And even now, here, in one of the worst states I’ve found myself in since my sisters were murdered, I’m going to persevere. My eyes snap open even as Crown tries to lift me to my feet, and I push back against him.
Feelings are luxuries; business comes first.
“We need to make sure Cat administers the antidote,” I murmur, and Crown’s brows draw together in confusion.
“How do you know about that shit?” he asks me, and I look up at him with a huh, what the fuck? sort of expression on my face.
“Uh, aren’t I the one who should be asking that question?” I grind out, my tongue gritty and my ears still ringing. I’ve got a massive migraine, blood dripping down my face, and a heart that’s being torn into jagged strips with each second we stand here wasting time. “Grey is on the compound.”
The words rush out before I can stop them. Not that I would, but I’m taking a huge risk here. This is me extending trust to these men in a way I never thought I’d be able to. I’m telling them that my friend is here, on this compound, in the middle of this bullshit. If they wanted to kill him, it’d be so easy. They could save face with Cat, bring Death by Daybreak a severed head that the club would absolutely love to stick on a pike outside the gates to the compound.
