Because they are not the same person—I have been irrevocably changed.
And I don’t know what to do or how to act now. How does one act after they fought for their life—and won?
I’m lost in my philosophical musings when another explosion lights up the sky. On reflex, I turn toward the noise. Rush and Sully sprint toward us, backlit by the bright-orange flames consuming another cabin.
“Anyone else?” Wolf yells.
“No. The rest of our boys have pulled out. Let’s move,” Rush yells as he closes the distance to us.
My gaze bounces from Rush to Sully, and my heart pounds in anticipation. I’m relieved to see them both relatively unharmed. My gaze finds Sully’s and I can’t look away. His lips part and he mutters what sounds like a curse.
They reach us and Sully pauses in front of me. I don’t realize that I’m reaching toward him until he takes a step closer to me, and my hand brushes against his shoulder. I smooth my hand up and curl it over his shoulder, using it as leverage to bring him closer to me. With one hand still holding onto Wolf’s hand, I lean into Sully. My face still fits perfectly in the space between his neck and his shoulder.
“James.” A hitch in my breath interrupts his name, and he wraps both arms around me.
His kevlar vest presses into me, his shoulder holster and gun dig into my shoulder. But I don’t let go. I don’t think I’ll ever let go of him.
Of any of them.
Sully pulls back and smooths some of my hair off my face. His gaze bounces around my face as he cups my cheeks. Tears well in my eyes as I finally—finally—see him. A tiny crack in his armor shows me the James that I met years ago. The James that I fell in love with—the James that I’m pretty sure I’m still in love with.
He rests his forehead against mine, his minty breath feathering across my lips as he exhales.
“Princess.” His nickname for me sounds like a tortured prayer leaving his lips.
I can’t stop my body’s instinct, and I tip my chin up and my lips graze his. It’s the barest of touches, but it’s enough.
Sully freezes at the contact, every muscle in his body going taut. His grip on my face turns to stone, but I don’t stop looking into his eyes. I’m desperate to hold on to any scraps of my James before he turns back into this newer version of him—the one that despises me.
I watch the transition happen. In two blinks of his long inky lashes, all traces of the boy I knew are gone, and instead, I’m staring into the soul of one of the members of the Brotherhood.
I feel Rush’s heat at my back two seconds before I hear him. “Can you walk on your own, birdie?” Although his tone is low, I feel the underlying urgency in his words. Wordlessly, I nod and I feel his hand on my lower back, encouraging me to move. “It’s about a half-mile walk through the woods.”
“Okay, Rush,” I murmur.
“Eyes up, brothers. We still don’t have the full picture,” Rush commands as he takes his gun out of his shoulder holster and scans the surrounding woods.
Wolf and Sully follow his lead, each taking their guns out, fingers patiently waiting. All three of them swivel their gazes around us, but I can’t take my eyes off of them.
My three white knights in shining armor.
No. That’s not right.
Strapped with more weapons than I’ve ever seen on a single person—let alone three—they’re not content to live within the restrictive lines society has drawn. They’re prepared to leap over those lines—for me. No, they’re not my white knights. They’re my dark kings. Gods in their own right—all of them.
An unfamiliar thrill buzzes in my veins at the thought.
A nearby cabin sizzles and pops before the huge oak tree next to it catches on fire. The leaves go up in seconds before the branches hiss and blacken. A second later, the tree next to it goes up in flames, and even though sadness fills me at the thought of this beautiful forest burning, self-preservation kicks in—hard.
“Oh fuck,” Wolf curses. “We gotta move or we’re going to be trapped in here. Now!” He spins on his heel and starts to run back toward the cabin I was in—the cabin with a dead man in one of the—I shut that thought down and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
It’s ten steps until we’re out of the clearing and back in the little front yard of the cabin I was in. With Rush at my back, Wolf next to me, and Sully in front of me, I feel the most protected that I’ve ever felt. But nothing stops the bone-chilling fear that slithers down my spine when I sprint past the window to the room I was in.
A shudder works its way over my body, starting at my head and moving all the way down to my toes. I squeeze Wolf’s hand on reflex, and he turns to look at me over his shoulder.
“Okay, Red?” Wolf spares me a single glance before he returns his gaze forward. When I don’t answer, he squeezes my hand.
I glance at him to answer, but before I do, I trip and fall. Before I can hit the ground, Rush’s arms wrap around my waist. He holds me for a second, his face in the back of my hair, before he rights me on my feet.
“You’re alright, birdie,” Rush whispers against my neck.
I nod my head a few times and will my legs to move and my mind to empty of everything except for moving my legs one in front of the other.
After the third time I trip, Rush growls and grabs me around the waist again to stop my fall. In one swift movement, he switches his hold to have one arm under my knees and the other around my back, so he’s carrying me bridal style.
“Oh.” The word comes out on a squeak as the blood rushes to my head. I wrap my arms around his neck and stare at his face, but he faces forward.
I feel his chest rise as he inhales, and then he barks, “Keep moving.”
We follow the barely noticeable trail until we come to another clearing. It’s a small gravel parking lot, and I see one black SUV parked in the middle under the lone street light.
It’s only been a few minutes, but I can’t keep my eyes off of Rush. His profile looks like it should be carved in some ancient Roman ruins.
His sharp jawline and proud nose. Like his brothers, he has a bump along the bridge—likely from a previous break—that my fingers itch to trace. Threads of auburn catch the light in his chestnut-brown hair, and I desperately want to feel it against my fingers.
Wolf opens the back passenger door and climbs inside, and Rush places me in the open backseat next to Wolf with more care than I might’ve used in such a time-sensitive situation.
My body feels liquid and pliable as he maneuvers me into the backseat, and still, I can’t pull my gaze. As he buckles my seatbelt—something I normally would protest someone doing for me—I reach a hand up to brush along his jawline. It’s scratchy and smooth, more than stubble but not quite a beard. I trace one finger along his jawline, and he stills and flicks his gaze to mine.
“Time to go, little bird,” he murmurs.
I drop my hand to the collar of his black tee, right above his vest, and curl my fingers around the fabric.
“Don’t go,” I plead with him. I feel the panic unfurling low in my belly at the thought of him leaving me now.
He places one tattooed hand over mine on his collar, but doesn’t remove it, just gently squeezes. “I’m not leaving you. Ever.”