Page 9 of Ravaged Saints

She stares at me for another moment before her lips press into a thin line, and slowly, she tucks the gun behind her back, slipping it into the waistband of her jeans. The fucking brat doesn’t toss it, of course not.

Max gives me a nod, and I lower my rifle just enough to let him approach. “I’ll need you to drop that trunk, sweetheart,” he says to the blonde, his tone soft but firm.

She hesitates, her knuckles whitening around the wood, but eventually, she tosses it aside with a grunt, stepping away from it but not leaving the brunette’s side, and the way she looks at her like she’s her lifeline sends a prickle of unease down my spine.

What the fuck are two women doing out here alone?

I look around, making sure no one will jump us from behind.

Max moves closer to the brunette, and I see her flinch as he raises his arm, supporting her weight with one hand. “Release the rope, Knox,” he says over his shoulder.

I sling my rifle behind my back and move to the tree; untying the knot, the rope slackens, and the brunette gasps as Max steadies her, his hand firm on her back. She tries to put weight on her foot but winces, nearly collapsing.

“Does it hurt?” Max asks, kneeling to inspect her ankle; his fingers press and rotate it gently, but her green eyes dart between him and me, suspicious and sharp, like a damn black panther ready to strike.

“Thank you,” the blonde says, her tone soft and sweet, like honey dripping from her lips.

“The brunette’s head snaps to her.

I raise an eyebrow.

“Why are you thanking them? It’s their trap!” She points at the jagged steel still half-buried in the ground. “This is all your fault!” She points at me.

I chuckle, shaking my head. Ungrateful little bitch.

“What are you two doing here?” Max asks, his tone calm, almost kind, though the tension in his stance remains. “Are you two alone?”

The brunette clamps her mouth shut, but the blonde steps forward, her tall, lean frame swaying slightly. “Yes,” she says hesitantly, her piercing blue eyes meeting Max’s. “We’ve been traveling for weeks, looking for a safe place. We… we ran from some hunters.” She hesitates, glancing at the brunette. “Aspen saved me from the—”

“Enough!” the brunette barks, cutting her off.

“Aspen, huh?” I lean back against the tree, crossing my arms.

The blonde ignores her friend’s glare. “I’m Brynlee, but you can call me Bryn,” she says, flashing a quick, nervous smile.

“So, Aspen saved you from Hunters?” I ask, my gaze locking on the brunette. “How’d a small thing like you pull that off?” She is what? Five-four?

Her eyes narrow. “I have my methods, army boy.”

Damn, that fire in her tone sends a shiver straight to my cock.

“She’s been on her own for years,” Bryn chimes in.

Aspen turns to her sharply, her expression a mix of panic and fury, but Bryn doesn’t stop. “We only met a few weeks ago.”

Years? Alone? My mind races. How the fuck has she survived that long? Women like her are hunted like diamonds, prized and pursued relentlessly.

“How’d you manage that, Aspen?” I ask, letting her name roll off my tongue.

She flinches, her eyes flicking to me, her jaw tightening. “I’m good at surviving,” she snaps, her eyes flashing with venom, and the sharpness of her words only makes me want to press her further.

“Doesn’t look like it,” I say, nodding toward the trap.

She huffs, crossing her arms.

Max straightens up, towering over her. “It’s not broken,” he says, brushing the dirt from his hands. “Just needs rest, so I wrapped it to help with the pain.”

Aspen takes a step back, her breathing shallow, and I see it, the flicker of fear she’s trying so hard to hide.

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