Page 61 of Ruthless Rebel

“Why? Because I patched you up instead of letting you bleed out?” He scoffs, straightening his now blood-soaked white shirt. “Don’t flatter yourself, Blackwell, I was just saving myself from Elle’s wrath, she’d have been pissed if I’d let you die,” he explains, and my smile only widens.

“True, but not what I meant. I meant because you have four other bedrooms in this ridiculous penthouse of yours, yet you still chose to put me in your bed,” I explain, forcing my eyes to remain open so I can watch him, which means I see the exact moment his entire body goes still.

“How do you know this is my bedroom?” He asks, which is a reasonable question, he doesn’t exactly have any personal items lying around. No, all that stuff is at the house, yet I nuzzle in the fluffy pillow and smile.

“Because it smells like you,” I explain, letting the scent seep into my lungs, lulling me into a sense of security. Or maybe that’s the meds, who knows? Yet being wrapped up in Asher Donovan’s sheets, and being put there by none other than him, gives me a high like no other.

Asher sighs, watching me closely before swiping his hands down his face, no doubt feeling the same exhaustion that I now do. My eyes start to flutter as they watch him come round the bed and drop into a chair in the corner, still watching me closely.

“When are you going to stop trying to get yourself killed, Lincoln?” He questions, leaning forwards so his elbows can rest on his knees, and stained in my blood under the light of the moon, he has never looked more perfect.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I,” I grumble, feeling my body relax completely for probably the first time ever.

“You’re not invincible, and you can’t save them all,” he forces out, and I know he is speaking from personal experience. He understands exactly why I do what I do.

“Not everyone is lucky enough to have you as their best friend, Ash. If I don’t save them, who will?” I tell him truthfully, because I, like him, have seen far too many girls suffer under the hands of our fathers.

“And what if you get hurt more than this, or worse?” That fury once again rears its head, and I know it's just proof that he cares. Something I hope I can remember when I wake up tomorrow.

“I can’t remember a time I didn’t hurt,” I admit quietly, my eyes finally succumbing to the heaviness, as a drug-fuelled sleep comes to claim me. “I’ll sacrifice myself for them every single time.”

I’m not sure I even speak that last sentence out loud, when the words, “Yes, but I won’t let you,” float through my subconscious, I don’t know if it’s real or not, because I’m already gone, and so is Asher.

30

ASHER

Iwatch Lincoln until he falls asleep, using every ounce of willpower I possess, until I am sure he is fully gone, only then do I move. Storming right into my closet, I enter the code to my safe and rip it open, pulling out a couple of guns and knives, a small ax, and some ammo, strapping them all to my body, before pulling a fresh black jacket off the hanger to cover my blood-stained shirt. I don’t have time to change it, and with what I have planned, it would be completely pointless anyway.

Making my way through the penthouse, I grab my phone and keys, before heading down to the underground garage. Only once I am behind the wheel do I make the call, and despite it being almost midnight, my brother answers on the third ring.

“Ash, you okay?” Zack asks, a hint of wariness in his tone, we’re not exactly phone call buddies, not at this hour anyway.

“I need an address for a man named Billy Powell,” I demand, not elaborating any further, and from past experience he knows I’m not going to.

I wait a moment, hearing him instantly clicking away on his keyboard before he replies, “I’ve just sent it to your phone.” His words are followed by a ding in my ear, alerting me that I have receivedit.

“I’m also going to need a clean up,” I add carefully, waiting for his reaction, even though I know he used to do this type of thing for Elle all the time. I mean, what use are siblings if they won’t help you get rid of dead bodies?

I hear a little more tapping and clicking before he replies, “I can have one there in an hour, is that enough time?”

The fury burns like a living thing through my veins, as I eye Lincoln’s blood on my hands before I reply, “Yeah, for what I have planned, I’ll only need half that.”

I hang up the phone before I can even respond, committing the address Zack just sent me to memory, before silencing my phone and tossing it aside. I don’t need it where I’m going.

The streets are empty as I drive through town, bypassing the Hallowed Crows Clubhouse, noting the few lights still on, but my focus is on only one thing. When I pull up at the bottom of North Hill, all appears quiet. Most of the houses are dark for the night, but it’s the lone one at the end of the road in the distance where my concern lies. I shut off the headlights on the car, turning off onto a side street and killing the engine. No use in alerting them to my arrival, where’s the fun in that?

No, I will go the rest of the way on foot.

Walking between the houses, I keep my steps quick and quiet, noting any getaways back to the car should I need them, but with the mood I’m in, I doubt I will use them, even if I do.

When I make it to the end of the street, I walk out into the middle of the road, my focus is only on the large house rising in front of me, which means I spot the two security men guarding the perimeter at the same time they spot me.

“Excuse me, sir, this is private prop…” his words are cut off by a bullet in the middle of his skull, his body hitting the ground is the only sound echoing around us. His friend follows suit before he can even raise his own weapon in defense, and both of them are dead before I reach the gate. Then I am stepping over their useless, lifeless bodies, and stealing one of their fobs to let myself inside.

Slipping through the gate, I dart sideways, my eyes zeroing in on three more men walking back and forth in front of the house. They don’t appear to be paying attention to much, especially given what I can presume their job description entails, but that just makes things easier for me.

One of them is bragging loudly about the blood they helped spill earlier in the night, and my ears prick up. “That cunt is dead for sure, bossman got him good, why the fuck do you think he ran?” One of them boasts, and I make a mental note to kill him last.

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