Page 10 of Ravaged Saints

Max walks towards me, his expression grim. Now we have a fucking problem. If we let them go, they might lead someone back here, or worse, they’re lying, and their group is waiting to ambush us.

“What now, man?” Max murmurs beside me, voice low and tight with uncertainty.

“We shoot them,” I reply flatly, without hesitation. “One in the head. Fast. Painless.”

Max snaps, his eyes flashing with anger. “What the fuck? We saved them just to kill them?”

“We?” I raise an eyebrow, my gaze unwavering. “You saved them. I just stayed here.”

Max growls under his breath, a mix of frustration and disbelief. I can see it in his eyes.

There is a reason my code name is Reaper; I don’t have a problem killing someone if that means saving our own. Although shooting two unarmed women isn’t my style.

“We can’t let them go, Max; it’s too dangerous,” I explain, trying to make him see the reality of the situation.

“We can take them with us,” his eyes travel to the girls.

“Don’t think with your dick, brother; that always brings us problems.” I brush my hair with my hand. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

Bring two women to the base? And then what? Fuck.

“They can be of use,” he continues, “It’s been seven years since we’ve had any company, Reaper,” he trails off.

It has been seven years since we’ve been close to women or anyone else. We’ve seen them when we go into town for supplies, but we keep our distance, and now having two living with us?

“You said it yourself, Knox; we can’t let them go. We aren’t going to kill them, so,” he pauses, his eyes finally meeting mine. “We have to bring them with us.”

Before I can answer, I hear Aspen snap, “The hell you will.” She is pointing her gun at us, her eyes locked on the barrel. For fuck’s sake!

“Guns aren’t toys, little girl.” I blurt out, and oh, does that make her even more pissed! She shoots right next to me; one inch to the left, and she would’ve taken part of my ear.

“Fuck, are you crazy?” She either has perfect aim, or I’m the luckiest bastard alive. I stride towards her, and the blond one moves to the side, covering her face and bracing herself for an impact, and I frown. What the fuck have these two been through? I reach for the gun and twist her wrist as she presses the trigger, another bullet flying as I lean over.

“No more bullets,” I smirk, and the blood drains from her face.

“You have two choices.” Her fingers claw at my arm, but my grip doesn’t budge. “Either come with us or take a bullet to the head.” I let her go and push her back slightly, making her stumble on her hurt ankle; she winces but straightens up immediately with a defiant stance. “Your choice.”

She stares at me, and back to Max, he crosses his arms; he isn’t going to help her if that’s what she thinks.

“Aspen,” the blond intervenes, her hand tracing Aspen’s arm. The brunette turns to face her; she murmurs something, and I see the plea in the blond’s eyes. Aspen’s shoulders drop, she shakes her head, her dark hair shifts like a shadow in the breeze, her skin glowing under the sun.

Bryn steps closer, cupping Aspen’s arm, her fingers trembling slightly; their foreheads touch, and I catch the faintest whisper between them; whatever she’s saying, it convinces Aspen.

“We will go with you,” the blond says, and I hear a hint of relief.

“Good,” I murmur before turning to Max, “Let’s get the rest of the gear and move out.”

We’ve been walking for a while; the blond one, Bryn, keeps talking about how she was in a community and she was caught while on a hunt and how Aspen went all superhero to rescue her, but then she mentions something that gets Max’s and my attention.

“I own a little small business, Midnight Whispers.” That’s all we hear before Aspen slaps her hand on Bryn’s mouth.

We both turn to her. “What did you say?” Max swallows loudly, his hand clenching beside me.

Aspen shakes her hand, but I step in, breaking their eye contact and pushing Aspen; Max moves to Bryn’s back as I turn my back to Aspen. “What did you say, sweetheart?” He has that smirk on his lips, and I can’t help my lips from curling up.

“I was a,” she pauses, her eyes traveling between me and Max, and I see a gleam in them, “call girl.” The fact that she says it almost like a purr makes me smirk; she knows there isn’t a soldier nearby who doesn’t know what that name was; she owned the most fancy call girl business in half the country. What are the fucking odds?

Aspen

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