Page 5 of Twisted Games (Boys of Briar Hall 3)

This man was my father. The only father I’d ever known. A man who would do anything to protect his sons. Anything.

I could never run if it meant betraying him. If it meant betraying this family.

Teeth clenched, I went to him as the van sped past us, bumping from the gravel at the side of the road onto the pavement. I bent to my knee and took the kit from him, unzipping it the rest of the way to lay it out on the road next to us. I didn’t ask what happened, only gripped the edge of his jeans and tore them all the way up to his knee, exposing a gnarly injury to his Achilles and a puddle of blood forming around the sole of his boot.

My hands stilled for a moment, and I grimaced. It was beyond my skill to mend. It would be a miracle if Ava Jade hadn’t severed the tendon and nerve endings. I could patch it for now, stop the bleeding, but it needed seeing to by a professional if he expected to walk properly on it ever again.

I glanced up at him, conveying that I was out of my depth here. He nodded. “Do what you can.”

“You should see a surgeon.”

“This is more important.”

I didn’t argue, and the smell of tobacco drifted to me on the cool breeze as I did my best to sterilize and suture the wound, winding it tight with gauze and tape. It was a hack job if I’d ever done one, but it would do for now.

Rook hardly finished his first cigarette before stomping on its ashes and lighting another, gaze fixed to the pavement as he paced.

Diesel gave me a nod as I finished and put away the gauze, flipping the first aid kit closed as I pushed back to standing.

“This is fucked.” Rook growled to himself, halting his pacing to stand near Corvus, who for once, seemed to have absolutely nothing to say. “You should’ve told us what was going on, Dies. We could’ve handled it.”

“You might not like the way I decided to handle things,” Diesel challenged him. “But I wasn’t wrong about her. I’m not wrong about her.”

His phone chimed in his pocket, and he drew it out, the edges of his mouth turning down as he read whatever message waited for him there.

“You are,” Rook argued, and this time, I had to agree with him.

“He’s right,” I told Diesel, speaking for the first time since she left. My voice hoarse and raw. “What Becca did was stupid. She shouldn’t have gotten herself mixed up with an Ace in the first place, but from the sounds of it, she was played hard. AJ is a lot of things, but she isn’t stupid. She wouldn’t let her friend die for making a mistake.”

It took everything I had in me to hold Diesel’s accusing stare. It was obvious he thought I—out of all of us—would agree with him. And I did, to a certain extent.

When I didn’t buckle, Diesel sighed, leaning back heavily in the old wooden chair, looking for all the world like the king of anarchy he was, amid the scattered debris and abandoned buildings around us. “Perhaps I may have taken things a little too far, but I promise you boys, I am not wrong about the girl. And I can prove it.”

He had our attention now. Even Corvus seemed to come back to himself, gaunt face lifting to peer over at Diesel. “What do you mean?”

“There’s something I need you all to see, and once you see it, you can decide for yourselves what is to be done with your Sparrow.”

Corvus winced.

“And if we decide she’s worthy after seeing whatever it is you intend to show us?” I hedged, needing to be clear.

Diesel locked his cool blue eyes on me, analyzing the meaning behind my words before replying. You won’t, his eyes said, but his mouth said something different. “Then I won’t fight you. I will welcome her as a Saint.”

Hope bloomed in my chest, but it couldn’t grow past the iron cage of my ribs, making the doubt seep back into my bloodstream and coat my thoughts like poison.

There was another unknown variable in all this, and it hurt to even allow the thought to take root.

We might’ve already lost her anyway.

What if it were too late?

After this, would she even want anything to do with us? With the Saints?

Rook began pacing again, two steps to the right, turn, three steps left, and back again, a knot between his brows. “This isn’t right. I don’t fucking like it.”

He stopped, his back to us as he stared down the road as though he could make her come back with the force of his will alone.

He whirled on Diesel. “What is it that you know?”

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