Page 23 of Addicted to the Ruin

“Aww, don’t be like that, brother of mine,” Jude teases, heading after him. “I made it so good for you last time.”

This time a bark of laughter escapes me, and I clap my hand over my mouth when Aeron gives me a searing look. #sorrynotsorry.

“I won’t ask,” Rook backtracks, shaking his head and leaving after them.

“Come on, Little Bird,” Knox urges, still keeping me close as he takes my hand and leads me from the room, blocking me with his immense body.

Tarl comes last, his hand brushing my back and I look over my shoulder to see him turn and walk backwards, covering our backs as we walk into the corridor.

“Did you check the other rooms down here?” I ask, knowing that they’re mostly empty, but Rufus has his office at the end.

We all halt so suddenly that I crash into Knox’s back, my ribs protesting with a sharp stab and I rub my shoulder that bumped into him. Ow, fucker is hard.

“What’s down here?” Aeron questions, frustration in his tone as he looks around Knox at me.

“Mostly bedrooms, but Rufus has his office at the end,” I tell him, or the thin air as Knox won’t move out of the damn way.

“Jude, Tarl,” Aeron orders, and Jude squeezes past me to go to Tarl’s side. Knox swivels, putting me behind him again, next to Rook so that we’re in between him and Aeron.

I peer around him and watch as Jude goes to the first door and kicks it in. “Clear!” he shouts a few seconds later after he and Tarl disappear inside, Tarl moving to the next and repeating the move until all the doors stand open, including my sperm donor’s office.

“Good,” Aeron comments, his voice firm and that of the future leader he will be. I turn and catch Rook straightening his shoulders, staring at Aeron with what looks suspiciously like hero worship. “Let’s go deal with what’s left of the Soldiers, shall we?”

Knox

“The World We Made” by Ruelle

We all head out after Aeron, following him like I suspect we will for the rest of our lives. Fucker knows he shouldn’t go first; keeping the heir safe above all else and all that shit, but like Adam, he insists on doing it anyway. I think he likes the dramatics.

The lights come back on as we head through the door, and I survey the surrounding devastation with a sense of satisfaction. The dark, gloomy walls are riddled with bullet holes, a shame as some of the original features have been damaged. I bet in its heyday this place looked fucking epic.

There’s a pile of dead Soldiers—gotta love the irony—to one side of the room, a pretty big fucking pile with a couple more bodies being added without ceremony as we head over to where several key players are kneeling in front of Adam and his inner circle, hands bound behind their backs.

“Ah, boys, there you are,” Adam greets us, his face covered in the dust that still floats in the air, but he’s got no obvious injuries. Adam’s gaze catches first on our bird and then Rook and his expression is considering, but not unkind. There’s none of the hatred I expect to see there. “And you must be Lark and Rook Jackson.”

Our Little Bird takes her brother’s hand, and both of them stand tall, braver than most men who face down the infamous leader of the Tailors.

“Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, sir,” Rook states, letting go of Lark’s hand as he walks up to Adam, hand extended. Suddenly, several guns are pointed at him, but he doesn’t flinch, just pauses, his hand still held in front of him. Lark takes a step forward, but Aeron holds his arm out across her chest, stopping her. She glares at him adorably and I know that she has just earned a few spanks with that look.

Adam gives Rook a once-over, a small smile dancing around his lips that tells me he’s impressed with the kid, and then reaches out with his hand, giving Rook’s a firm shake. The Tailors lower their guns and our bird sags a little, her breath leaving her in a puff. I mean, there was always the possibility of them shooting Rook on account of who his father is, but Adam gave his word to Aeron and he doesn’t break a promise lightly.

“Nice to meet you, son,” he replies in a deep tone, and I can see the approval in the glint of his deep blue eyes.

“Fucking traitor!” Rufus snarls, jerking as if to stand up, but a swift kick to the ribs by one of the Tailors in front of him has him rocking back down onto his knees, wheezing.

“It takes great courage to face your enemy and hold out the hand of peace, Rufus,” Adam muses, still holding Rook’s hand as he continues to survey the boy, then his gaze flits over to us. “Something that the younger generation seems to be teaching us.”

“Fucking hippie bullshit!” Rufus growls again, and the rest of us walk over so that we’re all facing him.

“Maybe,” Adam answers, finally releasing Rook’s hand only to step in line with the rest of us and sweeping his arm out as he indicates Rook and Lark. “But look which one of us appears to be winning.”

“You can take that worthless fucking whore! She’s all used up just like her slut of a mother was!” Rufus spits, looking at my Little Bird with a curl to his lip, his blue eyes full of loathing.

“You motherfucking cunt!” Rook snaps, going to leap forward, but Adam holds him back.

However, no one holds Lark back as she suddenly slams a massive fucking knife into Rufus’ stomach. None of us intervene, and I know I’m not the only one turned the fuck on by her savagery. Jude doesn’t even bother to hide the fact that he just adjusted himself.

“Who’s useless now,father?” she hisses, pulling the knife out with a wet sucking noise. A gush of blood seeps from the wound and coats her delicate hand as she stands up, looking down at him as if he were a piece of dog shit, and pride makes my chest swell, my injured ribs tweaking but I don’t give a fuck. This woman is all kinds of badass.

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