Page 56 of Damaged & Deadly

“He’s alive,” I answer quickly, wanting to reassure her that not everyone fucking died while she was gone.

“Well, that’s something,” she says with a small, rueful smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Yeah. He’s a counselor now.”

“Of course he is. He always did have a bleeding heart.”

I smile my first genuine smile of the day. “Got himself a nice girl. And he discovered he has a rich half-brother.”

“No way?” she gasps, her eyes widening, her soup forgotten at my revelation.

“Yup. He’ll be glad to hear you’re alive,” I say sincerely, giving her calf a squeeze.

“What about you?” she asks, changing the subject.

“What about me?”

“You gotta girl?”

I grimace,reallynot wanting to get into that topic of conversation with her. However, my silence is telling enough, causing her to chuckle. It’s nothing like her old laugh. The one that was filled with sunshine and rainbows. It’s cold and lacking like she’s forgotten how to do it properly and is just going through the motions.

“You do, don’t you? Who is she? She must be someone special.”

“Evie, I don’t think—”

But Evie was always too smart for her own good, and she doesn’t need me to tell her anything now. “It’s her, isn’t it? The girl who rescued me. Luc’s sister.” I pinch my lips, unable to meet her eyes, not wanting to see whatever emotion is, no doubt, swimming in them. When she speaks again, her voice is quiet, with thick emotion in her words. “He told me his sister and the Rejects would come for him. I wanted so badly to believe he meant the Reaper Rejects, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask in case it wasn’t you guys.”

“Evie.” My voice breaks over her name. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Tears swim in my gaze as I finally find the courage to lift my head, meeting her eyes and needing her to know how fucking awful I feel. We gave up on her. We wrote her off as being dead because it made us feel better instead of being the brother and friend that we should have been. We should have fought for her. Fought to save her, fought to get her back.

“You left me there,” she sobs, tears streaming down her face. “At first, I thought you’d come for me. My big brother, who isn’t afraid to stand up to bikers twice his size, will come. And you, Ollie. I thought we were soulmates. I thought for certain you’d come. I know you and the guys were close, but you were my best friend. My person. The one I was supposed to be able to count on. I just… In hindsight, it was stupid, but I genuinely thought you’d save me.”

By now, we’re both crying as guilt threatens to tear me in half. I’m surprised I’m not bleeding out all over the bed at this point. Evie's cutting words that slice through my skin like a razor blade, making me bleed, are the least that I deserve. Every barb hits its mark, wrenching the hole in my chest open wider until I’m bleeding freely, the wounds so deep that I’m not sure they will ever fully heal. Each broken cry is a scar I’ll carry for the rest of my life.

There’s nothing I can say. Nothing that will make any of this better. Nothing can justify our actions, or rather, inaction. Sure, we were just kids at the time, and I think even Evie realizes that, but it’s not what she wants to hear. All Evie knows is that she was left in that godforsaken place for twelve years. In her eyes, her big brother and best friend never came to save her. I still remember how she used to follow us around with wide, awed eyes. I have no idea what she’s suffered through, but I can only imagine how, back then, she would have believed we’d come. How she would have used the hope of that knowledge as her single light in the darkness to help her sleep at night, to get her through the challenges she faced. She would have held on to that belief with everything she had… until it flickered out.

Ultimately, we let her down. I know it as well as she does. Maybe we couldn’t have done anything back then, but we’ve been grown-ass adults for long enough. We’ve been motherfuckingRejectsfor long enough. The truth is that we left her to rot in that hellhole and told ourselves it was okay because she was dead. What a fucking bullshit lie we told ourselves so we could sleep easier at night.

For years, Cain has said Evie’s ghost haunts him. I thought it was just his guilt, but fuck, now I think he was right, except it wasn’t Evie’s ghost. It was her.Shewas haunting him, trying to get through to him, begging for him to rescue her. We were both too blinded by pain to see the truth in front of us, and Evie’s the one who has had to pay the price for our ignorance.

Evie cries until she exhausts herself, and as her eyelids droop closed, I swipe at my own puffy ones before lifting the tray from her lap, allowing her to get some rest. I only hope she can sleep more easily now that she’s free. It’s the least that she deserves after everything she’s had to endure.

Chapter 22

I feel like I’m just in the way at the house. There’s nothing for me to do and I don’t know how to help. Cain’s obviously still in shock, lost in his head as he tries to navigate these new and confusing waters, and Oliver… Well, I’m not entirely sure what’s up with him. This is all a massive shock to him too, but he seems distant, more shut down than usual.

I decide to give them a bit of space while Marcus drives me over to the clubhouse to check on Luc and grab some clothes for everyone. Cain had a few old clothes that he kept at the house, but other than that, we’re all still wearing our blood-encrusted ones from last night, and honestly, a shower and a change of clothes sound like a godsend right now.

“Hey,” Jon greets us when Marcus and I walk into the clubhouse. I texted him to let him know we were on our way. “Luc’s still sleeping.”

“That’s fine. I need to shower first anyway,” I say, fighting a yawn.

“Jon, fix the woman some breakfast, will ya?” Marcus asks—although it’s less of a question and more of an order.

“Sure thing. Caffeine and greasy food coming right up.” He grins brightly, like last night didn’t happen and everything hasn’t completely changed, before bouncing off.

“God, I wish I had his optimism and energy,” I grumble, sliding into one of the booths and leaning my heavy head against the wall.

Marcus slides in opposite me. “It’s his way of coping with everything he’s been through. Always trying to make a joke out of it and focus on the positives.”

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