Page 44 of Wilder
On the eighth try, it works. “Royal. Quick, what’s your passcode?”
“0-1-2-8-0-4,” he grits out from between a clenched jaw. “Wait, did you get it to open?”
My birthday. A warmth explodes in my chest, and all I can do is mumble, “Yeah.” I’m too busy trying to access the text to comment on his passcode. When I’m finally successful, I almost wish we could remain completely oblivious. “Shit,” I murmur under my breath.
Beckham has come over to join me, reading over my shoulder. “Wait, what’s that word?”
“‘You should have listened’ is what the text reads.” I swallow, my eyes darting to Wilder, who’s looked up from working on Royal’s shoulder.
Royal doesn’t turn, but his grip on the countertop is making his knuckles turn white, and I don’t think it’s because he’s in all that much pain. “Go back to SIN. Fine. We do. People are fucking murdered. What were we going to do? Check into a goddamn hotel like it’s a vacation? We’ve got a baby here. If whoever sent that—whoever’s taunting us, whoever’s trying to hurt us—thinks they’re going to control where we stay and what we do, they’re sadly fucking mistaken,” he barks, his voice rising and turning lethal.
“Fucking right.” Beckham’s jaw is twitching as he hops off the counter and motions for me to come to him. I move directly into his arms. “They wanna come for us. We’ll be fucking waiting.”
Wilder stares out the window over the sink, and a feeling of safety washes over me as I realize his eyes are on Chase. Exhaling hard, he finally turns his head, making sure his gaze connects with each of ours before rasping out, “We protect what’s ours.”
TWENTY
WILDER
Ten minutes later,I’ve all but finished up playing nurse to Royal. His shoulder is a fuckin’ mess, but I think it’s mostly surface damage—abraded skin. Painful sure, but he’ll live. The blood flowing down his face when I first set eyes on him had scared the shit out of me, but scalp wounds can bleed profusely like that. Upon inspection, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had assumed.
Now, all I have to do is watch him for signs of a concussion and try to get him to listen when I tell him to rest. Fat chance of that, though. Last year—the day after some asshole guy from Gamma Chi hadaccidentallysmashed a beer bottle over Royal’s head at a party—he’d been scheduled for fight night. It turned out the guy he was lined up to fight wasalsoa Gamma Chi brother, and once Royal found out that little coincidence, I couldn’t keep him from getting into the cage and kicking that guy’s ass, despite the cut on the back of his head. It wasn't pretty, but I wager he’d channeled all that pain those frat brothers had caused him into anger. He’s good at that, kinda like I am. Only with me, it’s almost always emotional anguish that brings out my fierce temper. So, will I be able to convince Royal to stay homefor my fight tonight to recover from his run-in with the van? Fuckin’ doubtful.
I blow out a deep breath, thinking through things. The burner phone Freya had is with the police, according to Cassie. But it’s not a leap to assume the fucking psycho in the van is the sender of the text message. I don’t fucking know what to make of it. “Maybe it’s for the best that this happened,” I murmur quietly, affixing a last strip of medical tape to hold the bandage in place.
Royal throws an irritated glance in my direction, complete with a comically arched brow. “Glad you think so,” he grinds out.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Between you coming inches from being involved in a hit-and-run and then receiving that threat via text, it’s not only put us on high alert, but it’s also straight-up made us angry.” When he doesn’t immediately agree with me, I grip his chin in my hand before pressing an intense kiss to his lips. I hold him there, nipping at his mouth, then slide my tongue inside to tease him while pushing him back against the counter, pinning him at the hip with my body. I don’t stop until I feel his chest rise with a deep intake of breath as we sink slowly into each other. He grabs the back of my neck, tugging me closer. He’s reminding me of every fucking moment we spent making each other feel good last night—every kiss, every touch, every thrust. Breathless, we finally break the kiss. My forehead lightly touches his as I stare into his eyes. “Definitely didn’t mean I wanted this to happen to you. Never want you to hurt.” I ease the pad of my thumb over his lower lip, breathing him in. “Scared the fuck out of me, asshole.” What could have happened shakes me to my core.
A teasing light enters his eyes. “Worried about me, huh?”
My brows dart together. “I know you can handle yourself, but there’s only so many good outcomes when it’s man versus large vehicle, you know?” I cock my head to the side. “I don’t want to fucking think about how differently today could have gone.That’s all I was trying to say. And I’m really fucking glad no one has to explain to Chase where Woyal went. If we fucking lost you— Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all fucking morbid.” But I can’t help myself. That’s where my head goes. Especially right now.
He presses his firm, yet sinfully soft lips together, looking at the floor with a wince. “The thought of leaving any of you makes me fucking sick to my stomach. So. You’re right. I’d much rather we’re all fucking pissed off and watchful than sitting here waiting for the next threat or attack. Because I have no fucking doubt—this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.” He grasps me tightly to him with the hand that had found my hip while we were kissing, his fingers digging in, like he’s making sure I’m still here with him. That I’m not going anywhere. He releases a heavy breath. “I think I don’t give a fuck what threats are made about where we stay. Echo is at TZE, so is this crazy fuck. She’s here, the psycho still attacks. So, we leave because we’re told to, and people fucking die. I don’t think it matters. Thoughts?”
“I’m with you. Always.” I nod just as the doorbell rings.
From the other room, the conversation I’d been faintly aware of Beckham and Echo having comes to a pause. He’d told me how that bitch Megan is no longer incarcerated before all this happened with Royal. I feel for him, as he’s hyperfocused on it. It makes me fucking hurt for him.
Echo must have gotten up to answer it when Beckham’s agitated voice travels easily through the house. “Fuck no, you’re not. I’ll get it.” Her exasperation can also be heard in the disgruntled groan she lets out. A second later, it becomes clear that Beckham won the argument because the door opens and he quickly asks, “Can I help you?”
More hesitation, both from Beckham and whomever has come to the door has me on edge.
I exchange a tense look with Royal before pushing away from his body and gesturing for him to follow me to see who’s interrupting our already fucked-up day.
“Not even one hour without something,” he mutters as we turn the corner.
I glance at him over my shoulder and chuckle. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’s a Girl Scout with cookies.” My brows dart together as I realize there’s a quiet conversation in progress at the door. I stop in my tracks, eyes locked on Royal. For some reason, my heart has begun to thud and squeeze in my chest, like it’s fucking telling me something. I try to swallow, but my throat goes dry as every single nerve in my body has tripped and is on full alert.
“Wilder.” There’s an anxious quality to Echo’s voice that doesn’t ease my mind one bit. It’s not fear in her voice, though, it’s more like concern laced with a heavy dose of compassion. At the confusion on Royal’s face, I bite the bullet and face whatever problem has come to our door head-on.
My stomach bottoms out as I take in my sister’s lithe form and the way she’s awkwardly standing just inside the threshold with her face angled away from me. Beckham’s face has gone pale, his eyes wide as he looks back and forth between River and me. She’s wearing a sweatshirt and leggings, which is weird as fuck for September around here. She has to be sweating to death. “River. What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.” Her chin tips up, and she meets my gaze through only one eye. The other is swollen shut and bluish purple.
Shock hits me first, like a jab to the jaw, knocking me for a loop. Then fury flickers to life, wicked and potent, shooting through my veins. I know I have to control my reaction for her sake, but it’s so fucking hard to see her like this again. This might be the worst it’s ever been. Motherfucker. Mother.Fucker.I cross the room in less than a heartbeat and fold her into my arms. River doesn’t say a word, but trembles against my chest as my hand goes protectively to the back of her head. A muffled sob rips from her lips. Barely controlled anger fills me as I feel her pain with my entire body.
I finally manage to utter, “I’m going to fucking kill that bastard.”Breathe. Fucking breathe.I can’t do a damn thing about the asshole who did this right now, but I can help my sister. Easing back, I take her head between my hands, assessing the damage. “Let’s get something cold on that eye, okay?” I have to bite my tongue because I want to rage. This is so obviously Brian’s handiwork, violent plans for his demise formulate in my head.
