Page 57 of Damaged & Deadly

“That’s gotta be the healthiest coping mechanism I’ve ever heard of. Certainly beats shooting whiskey and killing assholes for fun.”

Marcus snorts. “Not sure any of us would know a healthy coping mechanism if it walked in here naked and started dancing.”

“You gotta go to therapy to get that shit, and none of us have the money for that nonsense.”

Sliding out of his seat, Marcus walks over to the bar. Leaning over, he grabs a bottle of whiskey from the shelf and two shot glasses before striding back over.

“I’d rather drink whiskey, anyway,” he says, filling the glasses to the brim and handing me one.

“I’ll drink to that.” He taps his glass against mine before we both knock back the shot, the burn of good quality whiskey sliding down my throat and warming me from the inside out. “Damn, that’s good stuff.”

“Ha, yeah. Oliver’s got some rich friends. Got him onto the stuff and, of course, now we all drink it.”

We take a second shot as Jon reappears with coffee cups in his hands, a roguish grin playing on his lips when he catches us drinking at whatever hour of the day it is. It surely can’t be later than mid-morning, anyway. “Guess I’d better hurry up with the greasy food to line your stomachs.”

Leaving the coffee cups on the table, he rushes back to the kitchen and re-emerges a few minutes later while juggling three steaming plates piled high with greasy sausages, bacon, eggs, and toast. Everything a girl needs after a night of rescuing her brother, discovering her boyfriend's long-dead sister isn’t actually dead, and killing deserving assholes.

“God, that smells amazing,” I groan, falling on the meal like a starved person as Jon slides in beside me in the booth.

“Not bad for a kid who didn’t know how to crack an egg several months ago.” The corner of Marcus’ lip twitches, and pride shines in his eyes. He’s been responsible for helping integrate the kids into a somewhatnormallife. If you could call being part of a gang and living in a communal clubhouse normal. It’s a job that he obviously takes seriously, and I watch as he and Jon banter back and forth over breakfast. It’s clear that Jon and the kids mean a lot to him. Like he said earlier, I guess they’ve given him a purpose again.

Jon obviously respects Marcus too. The way he hangs off his every word is adorable and a little sad. He’s probably never had a father figure or someone he could look up to. I believe the two of them found each other at the perfect time, filling a gap and providing a purpose for the other.

“Is she really Cain’s sister?” Jon asks, a sadness entering his eyes as he pushes his now empty plate away.

“She is.” Marcus sighs as he pours us both another shot.

“That’s insane. Hasn’t she been missing for like twelve years?”

“Yup,” I answer, popping the p. “It’s been so long that they thought she was dead.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah.” I shake my head, still unable to believe any of it myself. I can’t imagine what a mind fuck it all is.

A moment of silence falls between us before Jon hesitantly asks, his voice quieter than before, “What do you think she’s been through? I mean, we all saw that place…” He trails off with a grimace.

“Kid, you probably know better than anyone what she’s survived,” Marcus remarks.

Jon’s head snaps up to meet his gaze, his brow furrowing as he stares at him. “Yeah, but I wasn’t… we weren’t…” He shakes his head profusely, unable to get the right words out, but we all know what he means.

Marcus reaches a large hand across the table, reassuringly squeezing his arm. “Maybe not, but you know what it’s like to be trapped and forced to do things you don’t want to do. Whatever she’s feeling right now, you’re one of the only people who can relate to that. The rest of us can empathize and try to be there for her, but you’ve been in her shoes. Or as close to being in her shoes as one can get.”

“Fuck,” Jon sighs, hanging his head and looking devastated. Without saying anything more, he gathers the plates and heads into the kitchen.

I follow him with my eyes, worried. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t think any of them are okay, but they’re doing the best they can. Besides, they’ve come a long way since we first rescued them. Those first couple of months were a disaster. Dealing with teenagers, in general, can be a challenge, but those with a newfound freedom can basically do whatever the hell they want in Black Creek…” he shakes his head. “They went off the rails for a while before Cain suggested starting the fighting pit as a more productive way for them to expend their energy. Still, last night can’t have been easy on him. Seeing where she was being kept, what was done to her. It’s bound to be triggering.”

I nod, gnawing on my bottom lip as I glance toward the kitchen doors, hoping he’s not back there falling apart by himself.

“I’ll go check on him,” Marcus says, as if reading my mind. “You should shower and see how your brother is coping.”

I give him a soft smile as he slides out of his chair and goes in search of Jon. I sit there for a minute longer, thinking over our conversation and trying to put myself in Jon and Evie’s shoes before giving up. Marcus is right. We can empathize, but we’ll never know exactly how it feels to be stripped down to your bare bones, to lose all sense of autonomy, and become nothing more than a sack of muscle for someone else to manipulate.

With a heavy heart, I get to my feet, turning my thoughts on my brother as I head for the shower.

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