Page 96 of Brutal Savior

There’s a lot to be done over the next few hours, but I’m doing fucking none of it. I leave the Gilda in charge of cleanup and callfor extraction. I’m numb through the chopper ride, and no one tries to talk to me. I must look exactly like I feel. Do not fucking disturb.

As the helicopter lands in the Compound, a huge rush of relief washes over me. For the first time, the walls don’t feel constricting. Instead, they feel safe, and just that lets me know how shaken I really am. Confronting Kelly was a nightmare of my childhood made real, like discovering the bogeyman really exists and had been hiding under my bed for years.

I’m glad she’s dead.

It’s a rough thought, considering how damaged she was, but it’s true. There was something malignant about her, and I don’t think it all came from her childhood. I’ve met a lot of people who do evil things for power or profit, but very few who do them for fun. Kelly was a bad fruit, rotten at the core.

I don’t know how I’ll feel about this later. Right now, my walls are up as high as they go, and as I climb from the chopper, all I can think about is the next step. Then the next. There are only two people I want to see right now—Grandad and Quinn. And anyone who gets between us is taking their bloody life in their hands.

Kendrick greets me at the entrance to the main street. He’s somber, tactful as ever, and doesn’t offer me congratulations on a successful mission. Instead, he quietly informs me that everything will be taken care of and I have nothing to worry about.

I ask the only question that matters. “Where are Quinn and my grandad?”

“In your temporary accommodation. I had some food sent up, so you can head right there once you clean up.”

Once I what? Only then do I register the red splatters on my jeans. Shit. Turning up looking like this would have freaked the pair of them right out.

Kendrick walks me to the initiates’ quarters in silence. Before I head inside, he says, “You’ve got your Quinn to thank for the CI’s assistance. She’s sharper than I gave her credit for. I’m not often wrong about these things, but I have to admit, she’s working out a lot better than I thought she would.”

“You’re right. She is. Thanks for the help with this.”

“You’re a Brother. Your safety is as important to me as my own.”

I thank Kendrick, make a quick stop at my real flat to shower and change, then make a beeline toward Grandad and Quinn.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Quinn

“She's dead. I need a pickup. Brackis is a traitor, and he’s on the run. You need to track him.”

The moment Jacob’s words rang out over the speaker, my knees went wobbly, and I had to sit on a lab stool before anyone else noticed. Two hours later, I still don’t feel right. I don’t think I will until I see him.

Once the excitement was over, I visited Grandad in medical. He’s shaken up but okay. The sedative Brackis gave him had already worn off by the time the Gilda found him. He grumbled so much about staying in medical that the doctors gave up and told him he could leave under strict instructions to come back if he started to feel unwell.

“I’m fucking eighty-five. I feel like shit most of the time,” he griped as we made our way back to the apartment to wait for Jacob.

Food arrived, but we haven’t touched it. We’re sitting at the table, a newspaper spread out between us, as Grandad tries to distract himself with the crossword.

“Lover of birds imprisoned in Alcatraz. Too bloody easy.”

I frown at the page. “I don’t get it.”

“The answer is hiding inside the clue. Look. Cat.”

“Oh!” I smile as it leaps out. “I see it.”

“They’re just puzzles. You can work them out if you—”

The door opens, and we both startle. I’m braced for it to be one of the guys or another Gilda soldier, but Jacob walks in.

The first thing I notice is his wet hair. He’s showered and changed. My stomach clenches as I realize why. His eyes scan both of us, and the tightness in his jaw softens. Neither of us says a word as he takes a seat next to me at the table.

Grandad is the first to break the heavy silence. “Well, my boy, you did what needed to be done. Same as I did. You won’t feel good about it, but you had no choice.”

Jacob picks up the pen from the newspaper and spins it in his fingers. He’s not one to fidget, and it just adds to the sense of wrongness. He’s not himself and might not be for a long time. That shouldn’t make me sad, but it does. I reach out my hand and lay it over his.

He shifts to grip my hand instead, and the firm, comforting pressure relaxes my tense muscles. I close my eyes and lean my head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

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