Page 67 of The Devils of Saint City

Manson is fully awake now as he clumsily climbs into the front seat, and when they both check their guns, my heart rate spikes. “Stay quiet in here, okay?”

“Promise us,” Ash adds, making the hair on the back of my arms stand up.

“I promise. I’ll stay quiet.”

“Good girl.”

Ifeelthe praise more than I hear it, because with Asher, it’s rare.

“We’ll be right back.” Manson tosses me a wink I know is meant to calm my nerves, but I think it just makes them worse.

They should probably be taking this more seriously.

With something akin to bated breath, I watch them swagger toward a rundown cabin that I barely noticed before. The moss covering the wooden planks is so thick it just about blends into the forest around it, making me wonder who the hell would live in such a place. Do they like the faerie aesthetic, or are they that desperate to stay hidden?

Judging by the three absolute degenerates who come outside to greet them, I’m gonna assume they’ve never even heard of faeries. Their faded jeans and dirty black shirts are full of rips and holes, their boots are muddy and untied. Two of them are sporting scraggly, ragged beards, and the third has a tattoo covering most of his left cheek. Normally I try not to stereotype or jump to conclusions, but I barely have to stumble into this one. They’re definitely criminals.

And one of those criminals just pulled a gun on my stepbrother.

I barely have time to scream before shots ring out so loudly, I have to cover my ears. It’s been a while since I’ve heard a gunshot so close, but not long enough. The sound is jarring, piercing. Nothing ever quite prepares you for how loud it truly is when you’re only twenty feet away.

Both bearded men are now on the ground as the one with the tattoo raises his hands in surrender. Ash is limping as he moves closer, I can see it. He’s hurt. Without thinking, I push the truck door open and stumble out, drawing the attention of all three of them. I don’t know what my plan is or what I’m doing, but there are dead guys on the ground and my head is swimming.

“What the fuck?” Manson growls just as Ash aims his gun at the third man again.

“Wait, please!” he begs. “I didn’t pull my strap. That has to mean someth— don’t kill me too. Please.”

Manson moves closer to Ash like he’s trying to get his attention, but my brother is staring unblinkingly as his target pisses himself. “We can’t, bro. Only one was supposed to drop, and we took out two.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

He nods toward me, and when I meet Manson’s eyes I can tell he agrees with him, but he also knows they’re on a job. “What message does it send if we take out all of Creed’s lackeys? What will he do to us?”

“Yeah,” the guy chimes in. “Come on, you can’t kill me too. He needs me.”

“Bullshit,” Asher hisses, but he’s finally blinking again. “He saw her.”

“I know, and we’ll deal with that in due time.”

“What does that mean?” They both yell at him to shut up, and after he flinches away in fear, his attention flicks to me. I swear he’s trying to memorize my face as quickly as he can, and when my brother hits him with the butt of his gun I watch him fold into himself as he falls unconscious.

“Why the fuck did you get out?” Asher limps toward me angrily, looking more menacing than he probably should. Like a pissed off little pirate.

“You were shot,” I say flatly. “I just... you were hurt.”

Freezing, he stares at me like he’s never seen me before. “What?”

I don’t fucking know. I shouldn’t care. Even now, I shouldn’t care. But now my fingers are twitching to reach out for him, not some random tree as I repeat, “I got out because you were hurt.”

He glances down at his leg as if he’s just now realizing he’s injured, and Manson rushes over to pick me up and carry me to the truck again. “Damn, pet. You really know how to make an entrance. Ash will be alright, okay?”

“Good, yeah. Of course.” I don’t fight him as he tosses me in the backseat, or when Asher gets in and slams the door. I don’t say a word until we’re back on the highway and safely away from what just happened. “Still need your head cleared? Or...”

Sighing, he turns to look at me, grunting in pain when he stretches out his right leg. “Come here.”

I lean in to reach for his cock, but he grabs me and pulls me into his lap so I’m straddling him instead. The way he wraps his arms around me and buries his face into my neck has me coming up short.

He just wants comfort, and for possibly the first time in our lives, he’s seeking it from me knowing I’ll give it.

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