Page 132 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“Back out.”

I exhaled.

As Uncle Mack walked me through it, I looked over his shoulder. The men were talking in low voices. I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“Better,” Uncle Mack said, leaning forward to kiss my forehead. He got to his feet as Dragon and Gramps reached us.

I couldn’t even look at them.

“Point blank. Center mass,” Dragon told my dad. “Myla?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes, so I just turned my head in his general direction.

“Good job, kid.”

I nodded, looking away again.

“I need to get her home,” Cian said, his hands on mine, rubbing them. “She’s fuckin’ freezin’.”

“Someone get Myla a blanket,” my dad ordered.

“Can we move this inside?” Gramps asked Cian.

“Yeah,” he said, tossing Otto his keys. Sliding his arms beneath my knees and behind my back, he lifted me and followed my brother into the house.

When the lights switched on inside, I winced.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Holy shit.”

“Jesus.”

“Goddamn it.”

Some of it was murmured, some of it was shouted. All of them were surprised.

“Get her a shirt,” Titus ordered, pushing through the men who’d crowded into the room.

I stood like a mannequin as Cian yanked off his cut and hoodie. My brothers created a wall around me as Cian pulled the sticky shirt away from my body and cut it down the middle, gently stripping it off. My bra followed. Then I was wrapped in Cian’s scent as his hoodie was pulled over my head. It hung to my thighs.

He helped me into a kitchen chair.

“Hawthorne boys, Wanker, and Gray can stay,” Dragon said firmly. “Everyone else out.”

The room cleared.

“What happened, sweetheart?” Gramps asked, sitting down at a chair across from me.

“I came to get the cake,” I replied. “Ashley forgot Saoirse’s cake.”

Cian made a noise behind me, and his hand found my shoulder.

“All right,” Gramps said. “Then what?”

“Ashley told me where she kept the spare key, so I found it.”

“Yeah.”

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