Page 88 of Ruthless Rebel

There are no promises I can give him, no confessions of love, not here, not like this, and instead, all I can do is nod. “Okay.”

One word, and he is leading me to his car, where we watch the remainder of the service together. Logan is lowered into the ground, and we watch as each member of our family steps up and drops a fistful of dirt on top of him. More people follow after them, then one by one they all drift back to their cars, ready to head to the wake that is being held at a restaurant in town. Ash and I wait until everyone has gone, pretending I don’t feel the eyes of my family on me as they leave, and then we climb out of the car and head to his graveside.

Asher slips the gravediggers a few hundred bucks to take a walk, before we both step up to the side and look down. His coffin is covered in dirt and roses, and the sight has me blinking away tears. It shouldn’t have ended like this, sunshine was never meant to be contained in a black box. Ash slips his free hand into mine, and then hands me a rose with the other.

“Together?” I ask hoarsely, and he nods with a grim smile.

“Together.”

Then we toss our roses in, and both bid the man we love a last final goodbye, and pretend it doesn’t absolutely kill us both.

The drive back to the house is silent, and when we roll through the gates, my heart begins to pound in my chest. The driveway isclean of course, none of his or Asher’s blood in sight anywhere, but it doesn’t matter, I will never forget what happened here. Ash doesn’t pause though, heading straight for the garage, which is mostly empty since everyone else has headed to the wake, and when he kills the engine, he climbs out without another word.

Quietly, he leads me through the house, not stopping until we reach my room, and when I push inside, my eyes instantly land on where some of Logan’s clothes are still thrown on the back of my chair. One of his old AGU hoodies that he always left here, and a spare pair of his scrubs and cap that he was so excited to wear. Some of the gifts he got at Christmas are still piled in the corner, and I know if I lay down on my bed, his scent would still be on my sheets.

A fresh wave of pain washes over me and I can’t bear it, but as if Asher feels it too, he pulls me into the bathroom and locks the door behind us. When I meet my own eyes in the mirror, I almost gasp at the state of me. There is blood and dirt all over me, and my face looks gaunt, my under eyes almost completely black, and if Logan were still here, he would probably kick my ass for not looking after myself.

Asher turns on the shower, and then I watch as he slowly strips out of his suit, more cuts and bruises being revealed with every piece of clothing he loses, and each one makes me want to scream more than the last. The bullet wound in his shoulder is red and raw, but it’s the purple and black that covers almost the entire torso, that has my hands itching to make someone pay.

“Ash, who did this to you?” I ask, my voice shaking, but when his eyes meet mine, he just shakes his head, reaching his hands out to pull off my own clothes.

“Lincoln, I promise I will tell you who did this, and that I will help you make them pay for what they did to us, to him,” he grits, not able to say his name, not like this, and my heart continues to thunder. “But you are in no state to do anything right now, so we’re going to shower, eat some food, and then get some sleep, and don’t think I won’t tie you to the fucking bed if I have to.”

If I was still able to feel anything other than pain, his words might make me smile, but instead I just nod, climbing into the shower, and watching wordlessly, as I wash the last of Logan off of me, and watch it disappear down the drain. I don’t realize I’m crying until Asher’s arm comes round me from behind, and he plasters his cheek to my back and just holds me.

We stay like that until the water starts to run cold, then I scrub the dirt and grime from my skin, being careful around the wound in my side that is still healing, before focusing on Ash. He accepts my help, even though I can tell it kills him, but his shoulder is still fucked, and every hiss of pain that slips past his lips, as I slide the washcloth over his skin, is like a match to the flame of wrath burning inside of me.

Whoever did this better pray they find me before I find them, because when I do, not even the devil himself will be able to save them.

45

LINCOLN

When I wake up, I am nestled into Asher’s right side, our hands locked against his stomach, with the last lingering scent of Logan all around us. After we showered, he heated up some pasta dish Elle had in the freezer, and we ate in silence, before our roles were reversed, and I was forcing him to take some painkillers before we both climbed into bed. It somehow felt empty without Logan, even though the two of us have shared a bed alone before, but it wasn’t long before we both drifted off.

My eyes scan the room, and I can see the clock on my nightstand reads almost 5am, which means we have slept for over fifteen hours, missing the rest of yesterday completely. I thought my sleep would be fitful and clouded in nightmares, but to my surprise, I didn’t rouse even once until now, so I must have been more exhausted than I thought. I guess grief will do that to you. I can’t bring myself to move at first, my eyes solely on Asher’s necklace from Logan, the one that matches my own, except his is rising and falling gently with the movement of his chest.

He made it out, he survived, I didn’t lose him.

When I try to slip away to the bathroom,Asher startles, grabbing my hand tightly in his, and looking around the room sharply and on instant alert.

“What is it? Everything okay?” He gasps in pain, moving to sit up, but I stop him with a gentle touch.

“Everything is fine, Ash,” I reassure him, seeing his trauma clearly for what it is, and wishing I could take it away. “I’m just going to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

I move quickly, using the toilet, washing my hands, and brushing my teeth, before heading back into my room to find Asher now sitting up. He hands me a bottle of water, which I take in silent thanks, before he slips into the bathroom himself.

When he returns, my eyes can’t help but track his every move, logging every injury on his body and memorizing it for later. I pull on a pair of sweats and a shirt, before helping Ash do the same, and when he drops on to the bed with a grunt of pain, my anger intensifies.

“It’s time,” I tell him, and when his eyes meet mine, I know he sees every word I’m not saying, because I don’t have to say it. This is who I am, a monster, a murderer.

“We better get some coffee,” he sighs, gritting his teeth as he climbs back to his feet, and I bat his hand away, slowly helping him down the stairs to the kitchen to make us some coffee.

What I don’t expect to find is most of my family already there and waiting for me.

Elle is sitting between Marcus and Jace, all of them nursing their own cups of coffee already, while Arthur, Zack, and Max are on the opposite side, all with their laptops open as if they are working already, but when we enter they all freeze. As soon as we walk in, Elle jumps up, moving around the island and throwing her arms around me, squeezing me tight.

Shocked by her outburst of emotion, all I can do is stand there and accept her hug, as she curses into my chest, “Don’t ever fucking do that to me again, Lincoln Blackwell.”

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