Page 20 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Lapsing back into tense silence, I pour myself another measure of whiskey from the mahogany liquor cabinet set beneath a hand-painted map of Briar Valley that Lola’s late husband, Pops, crafted years ago.

We were deep into celebrations when all hell broke loose, and I’m not done drinking for the night. Every year, the entire town gathers around the bonfire to eat, drink, trade stories and celebrate the town.

Everyone was getting tipsy, and Albie had just begun one of his usual convoluted stories when all of a sudden, this kid appeared out of nowhere, screaming her damn head off. We were all stunned, to say the least.

Picking through the mountainous forest that encapsulates the five miles of private land that carves out the town was treacherous, but we eventually found the kid’s mother.

Fuck. Me.

Someone so badly injured shouldn’t be hot, but I’m not fucking dead. Even beneath the blood and bruises, her otherworldly beauty took my breath away for a second.

The angelic wisp of a woman with hair the shade of midnight had slipped into a ravine and was getting beaten to shit by cold water. It’s a miracle she survived the fall.

Even though she looks like one strong wind would kill her off, this bruised and battered woman somehow made it miles uphill through impenetrable woodland with a kid in tow. She had to be desperate to brave that trek with no guidance.

“Where did she come from?” I ask aloud.

Killian shoots me an apprehensive look. “She was looking for us.”

“What do you mean? For Lola?”

“She’s been asking around in Highbridge for information, apparently.”

“What?” I snap at him. “Since when?”

Killian shrugs, stroking the kid’s blonde ringlets that tumble over her shoulders in a pearlescent waterfall. I’ve never seen him within three feet of a child, let alone having one asleep on his chest like a sloth.

“I hate it when you keep secrets.”

“Lay off, Zach.” He sighs heavily. “I just chose not to tell you.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Why are you getting so bent out of shape?” Killian accuses, deflecting as usual. “I didn’t think it was important at the time.”

“I’m not a child anymore, Kill.”

“You act like one, so who can blame me for treating you as such?”

Anger burns in my gut. “Fuck you.”

The front door slams so loud, it rattles the photographs on the mantelpiece. Lola strides into the room with an authoritative boom of greeting that halts our argument.

“Enough!”

She’s followed close behind by Ryder and Albie, both of them covered in streaks of fresh blood from where they helped us get the woman into Killian’s awaiting truck.

“What on earth happened?” she shouts at us.

“Grams. We can explain.”

Arms folded, she challenges us both with a stare. “Better be a hell of an explanation.”

“We found the woman on the edge of the property. This one led the way.” I gesture to the kid, still moaning under her breath. “It’s her mum.”

Killian’s grip on the sleeping girl tightens ever so noticeably. No one here is buying his I hate children act, that’s for sure. He’s so full of shit.

“Where is the woman?’ Lola demands.

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