Page 136 of Prodigal Son

There was his family. His club. Cass safe, his brothers alive and unhurt. Raven had a gray blanket draped over her shoulders, and held a paper cup of something hot, steam curling up under her nose, face pale, but jaw set. Brave as any of the boys.

Reese, shirtless under his flak vest, had crouched down to examine the unconscious tenth sibling, head cocked, gaze like a bird’s.

But the numbness persisted. Relief felt distant and insubstantial, like a scattering of embers against an iceberg, unable to warm it.

And then someone walked toward him, strides long and purposeful. Eden, in a black turtleneck and tac pants, Docs laced up tight, hair whipping loose around her shoulders, cheeks pink from the cold. She didn’t speak, and didn’t pause; walked right up to him, up into his space, and threw her arms around her neck. Pressed the cold skin of her face into his throat and let out a shuddering breath.

He lifted leaden arms and held her back. The smell of her hair, and of her skin, the tremor that moved through her body pushed back against his shock. He shivered, and she gripped him tighter.

“It’s alright,” she murmured against his ear.

Was it? He didn’t know.

Thirty-Seven

“Congrats,” Ghost Teague’s sleep-scratchy voice answered when the line picked up. “You’ve made the international news.”

Phillip frowned at the flat-screen TV situated across from his desk and slumped a little farther into his cupped hand, juggling the phone between chin and shoulder. “Not exactly the reason a man wants to make the news.”

On the screen, a properly dour reporter stood in front of the Pseudonym building, its glass facets subdued in the gray morning light. Yellow tape roped the entire thing off, and teams of police in windbreakers moved back and forth beneath a light layer of drizzle. Law enforcement was taking full responsibility for apprehending a rogue, government-funded terrorist group whose very existence was about to rock Britain to its political foundations. And Phillip was very glad no one made mention of the Dogs.

People would find out, though. The Hennessy family would talk, for one thing. The entire underground would know who’d slain this particular dragon, and the Dogs’ reputation would only grow stronger and more mysterious.

“How’re the kids?” Ghost asked.

Phillip yawned, jaw popping, before he could answer. “Rattled. A little banged up. But all in one piece. Devin…we haven’t talked about Devin, yet.” And wasn’t sure they could; it would take flame-throwers and machetes to get through that nest of thorns.

“Hmm,” Ghost hummed, sympathetic. “Well, if anyone wants to get away for a bit, I’ve got plenty of room over here, and there’s always something to do. Just offering, if it helps. My door’s always open.”

Phillip started to say no, they were fine, but he thought of Charlie’s vacant gaze last night as he’d surveyed the basement, blood on his lips and chin, nose bruised and purpling. “Actually…I think I might have a few who’ll take you up on that. Thanks, Ghost.”

“Anytime, brother. Just say the word.”

~*~

“Raven. Oh my God,stop.”

Raven pulled back, scowling, and swatted Cass’s shoulder with the end of the towel she’d been using to clean the narrow scrape on her cheek. It was the tiniest of wounds, but Raven had nearly scrubbed it raw, with both alcohol and peroxide. Cass’s face was stinging.

“I’ll stop when I feel like it,” Raven said, bustling back into the en suite to put the cloth away. “And you’ll just have to deal with it.”

Cass heard the catch in her voice. She hadn’t cried, not yet, but there had been lots of hugs – gladly returned – and kisses to the forehead, and deep, shuddering inhales.

“Raven,” Cass said, and her own voice cracked, just a little.

Raven rushed back into the room, and sat down on the bed beside her, arms already open. Cass leaned into her sister, and let herself get wrapped up, and squeezed tight. They rocked a little, side-to-side.

“It’s alright, darling,” Raven said, and stroked her hair.

“Is Dad – did he–?”

“We’re not going to talk about him. He doesn’t matter.” Firm, no room for argument.

But he did matter, a little, because he was the reason they were all here, that they existed, and had one another. But Cass wouldn’t push that, not now.

She yawned.

“Alright, time to get some rest.”

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