Page 40 of Ravaged and Ruined
Emery murmurs something to me, too low to catch. She walks off toward Surge, who waits near the tree line with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His shoulders are slumped with the same weight we’re all carrying.
When she reaches him, he wraps her in his arms like he’s anchoring himself. Like if he lets go, he’ll fall apart.
I look away. They deserve that moment. That quiet surrender. But all I can think about is Aero.
I stay where I am, leaning into the porch railing, the rough wood digging into my palms. The sky’s black velvet now, not a single star, like the whole damn world’s gone still.
The worn porch planks creak behind me. I don’t have to look to know it’s Aero, I can feel him everywhere. He moves like he’s giving me a chance to walk away. But I don’t. I stay rooted to the ground, my arms crossed tight over my chest.
Aero comes up beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off of him.
“You weren’t there when I woke up,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“No.” It’s not defensive. Just honest.
“You promised you would be.”
“I know.” He offers no excuses or explanations.
I glance over, catch the edge of his jaw flexing, his fingers twitching at his sides like he doesn’t know whether to pull me in or push me away.
His gaze snaps to mine, “I don’t want to put you in the middle of these things. You shouldn’t have to see this.”
His eyes search mine, like he’s trying to find the part of me that’s scared. But I’m not.
“I’ve seen it before just in different ways.” I confess. He goes still beside me.
“My father used to lock me and my brother in a closet,” I say quietly. “Sometimes for hours. Sometimes for days. If we cried, the punishment was worse. If we stayed quiet… it still didn’t matter.”
A muscle jumps in Aero’s jaw, and he turns slightly toward me, like he wants to say something but can’t find the words.
“I used to pretend I was somewhere else,” I continue, “Anywhere else.”
He reaches out, his fingers brushing mine where they grip the railing. It’s not much but it feels like everything.
“I used to do that too,” he says quietly. “When the belt came out, or the fists started flying. I’d stare at the ceiling and count cracks until it stopped.”
The air between us tightens. Heavy with unsaid things.
“You ever stop counting?” I ask.
“Not really,” he says.
I step into him, my fingers brushing his wrist until he lets me take his hand.
He exhales shakily, his free hand sliding around my waist like he needs to feel that I’m real.
His forehead presses to mine, his breath warm on my lips, the weight of the world still heavy on his shoulders but for a second, he lets me carry some of it.
My heart stutters. We stand like that, tangled in silence, the world paused just long enough for this. For him to let himself be soft. For me to show him I won’t break.
“I need you to understand something, Aero.” His hand squeezes mine like he’s afraid what I have to say will sever this connection and it probably will. “I’m not a Princess. I don’t need you to shield me from things like this. I won’t break unless you break me.”
His shoulders slump, “This world is ugly. Violence is all I know. I can’t stand the thought of men like Ricci or the damn Bloody Scorpion bastards coming after you for choices I make in the name of the club.”
The words hit me low in the gut. “The Bloody Scorpions were behind this?”
He nods, his jaw clenched tight. The full weight of his fear finally shows in his eyes.
