Page 129 of Clinch'd

I’m not about to admit it out loud but it sticks in my craw to consider they might have once been lovers.

Whatever.

“Where is everyone?” Beast says, echoing my thoughts and thankfully pulling me from the gutter. “I don't like this.”

Silently agreeing, I stop at the first closed door and raise a brow. Beast swipes at his forehead, his bald head gleaming in the low light and nods.

I’m still pissed at him for what he did with my sister, but I also recognize that I trust him like a brother and there’s no one I would rather have at my back. Hopefully, when this is over, I’ll get to kick his ass and then tell him how much I owe him.

Meanwhile, a silent timer ticks down in my head as I grab the handle of the first door and mouth,one, two, three.

I stumble under the vehemence of my motion, the door flying out of my hand as I take in the scene before me.

The coppery tang assails my nostrils and coats my tongue before I understand what I’m looking at.

Blood. So much fucking blood. It coats the walls, the floor, the lone chair sitting in the middle of the space.

Bile creeps up my throat but I swallow it back as Beast says beside me, “Fuck me.”

That about sums it up, I guess. Luckily, the room is empty but my heart sinks to my toes at the implication even as a renewed sense of urgency stiffens my spine.

When Beast grabs my arm and points, I pull from my panicked haze and follow him to the next door.

This time I don’t fucking care about caution and swing the fucker open before staggering inside.

Immediately I spy the man lying in the corner. He’s facing me but his features are distorted and swollen so I can’t confirm who he is. Still, I approach and drop to my knees, glancing at the hand curled into a fist by his head.

“Hud,” I whisper, through the lump in my throat.

It's got to be him. Who else would it be? Besides, he’s the right height and just to prove it, I uncurl that fist and confirm the scar marring his knuckle from when we were kids and he shot off his bicycle, coming away with road rash all over his skin.

Except, he doesn’t so much as twitch when I touch him and I’m too afraid of what I will find to confirm my fear. Instead, I bow my head and close my eyes. Are we too fucking late?

I feel a whoosh of air when Beast joins me on the floor and look up when he grabs Hudson’s wrist.

His face is a blank mask when he meets my stare but his eyes flicker before he says, “There’s a pulse.”

Fuck me.

Relief coats my skin, but I know we don’t have much time. God knows the injuries he sustained but judging by the bloody pulp of his face, it can’t be good.

We both move to pick him up when all of a sudden, the racket dies down outside. Into the sudden quiet, I glance up, cocking my head.

Beast follows my gaze to the door and by unspoken agreement, he rises and pokes his head beyond.

After a moment, he turns back and says, “Can’t see for shit.”

This can’t be good because I assume someone would be rushing down this hall to retrieve us if it were. Either way, we have to get out of here.

Leaning down, I grab my brother’s shoulder and grunt, “Help me.”

We each take an arm and I wince when Hudson groans although my heart thumps at the sound because he’s fucking alive. I’m sure the pain is overwhelming, but it also means he’s breathing.

We’re basically carrying dead weight and I shudder at the thought as we stagger into the hall. I look both ways but Beast was right, you can’t see anything from where we’re standing.

“Should we go back the way we came?” Beast asks.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” I mutter.

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