Chapter Forty Seven
The car lurches as the driver takes a hard right, tires shrieking against the asphalt, sending me careening into Meg’s side. She barely reacts, her body still as loose and limp as when I stopped begging her to reply to me, her head knocking against the window with a dull thud. The seatbelt is the only thing keeping her upright, and even then, she looks like a ghost of herself, drained and hollow, staring blankly at nothing.
Vaguely, I feel the car slow, and my heart picks up a notch at the thought of arriving at a destination. However, we just blend into traffic, becoming lost amongst the masses. I swallow against the lump in my throat, my pulse hammering in my ears. Every instinct in my body screams at me to do something, to move, to fight, but my options are running thinner by the second.
I shift carefully, assessing the back seat without drawing Harrison’s attention. He appears far too relaxed in the passenger seat, his fingers tapping idly against his knee. He’s watching the road ahead, seemingly at ease, but I don’t miss the sharp flick of his eyes toward the rearview mirror, checking on us every few seconds.
Aside from the seat belts, which are impossible to break without a tool, I have nothing but the damp warmth of Meg’s arm pressed against mine. A cold rush of night air filters in through a cracked window after Harrison declared he couldn’t handle Meg’s smell. I don’t even notice, my mind firing on so many other levels that my senses appear dulled.
Behind the wheel, his henchman is focused, hunched over the steering wheel like he’s desperate to push the car faster. The traffic lights ahead flash red, and for a breathless moment, I wonder if he’ll run straight through. He doesn’t, coming to a hesitant and brief stop. Peering through the window, I try to catch someone’s attention and fail when realizing the glass is blacked out. Then I try the door handle to no avail, and a click sounds beside my ear.
“Don’t even think about it,” Harrison growls, the gun pushed against my head. I let my hand drop away, retreating into my seat. He grins, twisting back in his seat, the gun settling back on his lap. The light turns green, and we glide forward in unison with the cars all around. Lost to the masses, no one suspects us. No sirens. No flashing lights. The city keeps moving, completely oblivious. I squeeze my eyes shut, slowly breathing through my nose.
Okay. Okay . I need a plan. Angling my body towards Meg, I keep my voice barely above a whisper. “Meg.” No response. I nudge her with my shoulder, my fingers curling against her palm. “Meg, you with me?”
Her lashes flutter, but she doesn’t turn to look at me. Instead, she blinks sluggishly, her mouth parting like she wants to say something, but the words don’t come. My stomach twists. I don’t know what they did to her before arriving at the casino, but I can guess, and every possibility makes me want to rip someone’s throat out. It’s evident the longer she remains unresponsive to me, that she’s under the influence of something. I try again.
“Meg, I need you to stay awake. We’ll get out of this, but I need you with me, okay?” A flicker of awareness crosses her face, but it’s gone just as quickly, swallowed up by whatever fog they’ve forced her into. Harrison chuckles under his breath, shaking his head at the entertainment I’m apparently providing him. I clench my jaw, refusing to stop trying. Meg, the real version of her, wouldn’t give up if it was me.
The city blurs past in streaks of yellow street lights and fluorescent storefronts. The hum of the tires against the road fills the silence, but it doesn’t drown out the rapid pounding of my pulse or the shallow wheeze of Meg’s breathing beside me.
She’s slipping further away with each second, her head lolling against the window, eyelids fluttering. I don’t know if it’s from exhaustion, drugs, or shock, but I do know that if I simply sit here and hope the Souls save us, it’ll be too late. I need to act now.
I continue my search. My fingers stretch out without moving my body far, feeling for anything I can use, but the car is sleek, expensive, and clutter-free. No stray pen, loose wires, or discarded wrappers with sharp edges. Then, my wrist grazes against something rough. My breath catches, but I’m careful to keep my face passive when Harrison flicks his eyes to the rearview mirror. He looks away, and I continue my exploration.
Just below the seat belt buckle, where the leather seat meets the center console, the thin edge of a plastic peeks out, looped and forgotten. I cast a quick glance at Meg’s wrists, noting the thin indents marring her pale skin. The exact type one would receive from being bound by a zip tie. Whether the one poking my finger is from her old binds or intended for a new one, it’s now wedged in the crack between the seats. A stroke of luck, a miracle in the form of hardened plastic, and I nearly let out a hysterical laugh.
Keeping my movements small, I angle my body just enough to pretend I’m not reaching for it, my fingers straining. The zip tie is stiff, resisting as I try to work it free without drawing attention. My arms ache from being kept so rigid, my wrists screaming from the unnatural angle, but finally, after a few torturous seconds, the tie gives, slipping loose into my palm. I curl my fingers around it, tucking it behind my back to keep it hidden.
Now comes the hard part. I swallow, shifting just enough to push my weight against Meg, making it look like I’m just adjusting in the seat. I don’t expect a reaction from her, but she makes a faint, broken sound with a slight movement, barely more than a breath. Harrison looks at us in the mirror, eyes sharp with amusement.
“Aww, how touching,” he croons, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Worried about your sister, sweetheart?”
I meet his gaze head-on, my grip tightening around the plastic. The driver cuts into another lane, heading directly for the merging of the freeway. I’m running out of time. There’s too much distance between us and anyone who might be trying to follow. As soon as we hit the freeway, it will be speeding and lane-hopping directly out of the state. We’ll be as good as lost. It’s now or never.
“Not as much as you should be worried about me,” I manage to smirk without my voice breaking. Harrison’s smirk falters, confusion flickering for a split second before I move. I lunge forward, arms lurching over the seat, the zip tie stretched between my fists. Harrison doesn’t have time to register what’s happening before I loop it over his head and pull.
His body jerks violently, a strangled gasp bursting from his throat as the plastic cuts into his skin. He thrashes, fingers clawing at his neck, but I hold on, bracing my knees against the seat for leverage, teeth gritted as I pour every ounce of strength into tightening the restraint around his throat. His gun clatters to the floor, slipping from his grip as his hands scramble uselessly at the zip tie, nails scraping against plastic.
The driver shouts, swerving the car hard enough to send my body whipping sideways, but I don’t let go. Thanks to Wyatt, this isn’t my first rodeo, and I know exactly how to derail a car I don’t want to be in.
Harrison chokes, a garbled sound ripping from his throat as his face darkens, his limbs flailing wildly. The driver is yelling, trying to reach for him while still gripping the wheel, but the car is veering dangerously now, the tires screeching as we careen toward the curb. Suddenly a bone-crushing force slams into my face.
Stars explode in my vision as pain shatters through my skull, my grip instantly loosening. My head snaps back, the taste of blood filling my mouth as the driver’s elbow connects solidly with my cheekbone. The world tilts, everything swimming in and out of focus, and before I can recover, the car jerks to a violent stop.
The force flings me forward, my forehead smacking into the back of the headrest with a sickening thud. The zip tie slips from my fingers completely, and Harrison gasps, sucking in ragged, desperate breaths as he claws at his throat. I try to blink away the black spots dancing in my vision, my mind sluggish, dazed. Stupidly, despite the agony flaring through my face, all I can think is, ‘ That was so badass. I bet Meg is impressed ’.
But Meg isn’t much of anything. She doesn’t react, and she doesn’t cushion my fall or stop Harrison from reaching back to grab a handful of my hair. Wrenching my head back towards him, Harrison’s furious, red-faced snarl fills my spinning vision.
“You little bitch,” he wheezes, his voice raw, his eyes murderous. His fingers tighten in my hair, yanking hard enough to make my scalp burn. “You’re gonna fucking pay for that.” I let out a slow, fragile breath, blood dripping from my lip onto my chin. But I don’t look away.
It’s surprising how many thoughts can fly through a mind in less than a moment. How someone can reflect on their life, their choices, and how they ended up here. I was the girl who was so afraid of being hurt again, both physically and emotionally, that I refused to leave the home I was fortunate to be welcomed into. At Wyatt’s expense, but I didn’t know that at the time. I was so scared of love I hid from it, unaware of how much my heart craved affection. Then I met my Souls.
They were instantly drawn to me because they believed it was their job to protect me. I’ve often thought men are more affected by fairy tales than women, boosting their noble intentions and giving them a false sense of purpose always to be the savior, even when the damsel is more than capable of saving herself. Would prefer to, in fact.
I didn’t need saving; I needed liberating. And here I am. The new Avery is the girl who knows what she’s worth and what she can face. I’m a woman without limits because I have love to bolster me. And ultimately, if my bravery is for nothing, I have men to mourn me. I’ve made my mark on this world rather than hide from it. And I stuck to my promise to save Meg.
So even through the haze of pain, even as my head pulses with the force of the impact, I hold Harrison’s gaze, my lips curling into the faintest, bloodstained smirk. “Then hurry up and do it.” Harrison’s grip on my hair tightens for a fraction of a second, his fingers like iron claws against my scalp before something in the rear windscreen spooks him.
He abruptly lets go, shoving me backward with enough force that I slam against the door, my already battered body jolting from the impact. My ears ring, not grasping the sharp bark of orders being shouted from outside. The sudden blaze of red and blue lights floods the inside of the car, painting everything in frenzied flashes of color. The wail of sirens pierces the night, cutting through the static hum in my skull and dragging me back into the present.
“Shit,” the driver hisses, his head snapping toward Harrison, his hand already yanking a gun from the waistband of his jeans. “They took the backroads and made a beeline for us. How the hell did they know where we were?” Two pairs of accusing eyes cut to me in the mirror, but I can’t even bring myself to shrug.
Harrison swipes a hand over his raw, reddened throat, his breath still rasping as he bends forward to locate his dropped revolver. Twisting in his seat, he glares down at me, fury radiating from him in waves. For an endless moment where my heart forgets to beat, I’m sure he’s going to turn the gun on me, his fingers twitching around the grip, but then...
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Gunfire erupts outside, bullets slamming into the car’s frame, shattering the passenger-side window. Glass rains down in jagged shards, and I drop down, instincts taking over as I scramble down into the footwell, reaching blindly for Meg. She doesn’t resist as I haul her against me, curling my body over hers, shielding her from the chaos unfolding all around. Her breath is brittle, her entire frame trembling beneath my grip, and fear coils sharp and tight in my stomach.
The car jerks suddenly, the doors bursting open as Harrison and the driver run for it. They fire wildly over their shoulders, the deafening cracks of their guns mixing with the return fire from officers, but neither of them hesitates. I glimpse Harrison’s silhouette vanishing between two parked cars, the driver hot on his heels. As soon as the chase is taken away from the vehicle, it’s surrounded by uniformed figures.
Heavy boots thud against asphalt. The clatter of weapons being raised. My fingers tighten around Meg, my heart slamming against my ribs as I force myself not to flinch at the aggressive yells of “ Hands where we can see them!” and “ Stay down!”
Somewhere through the madness, through the storm of flashing lights and weapons trained in our direction, Wyatt’s voice cuts a path directly to my ears. He yells my name, a rough and desperate sound that twists my insides into knots. That singular word, that raw rasp, imprints itself in my skull.
I lift my head just as the car door is wrenched open, my eyes immediately locking onto his. He’s standing there, his expression a violent tornado of emotions, his jaw tight, his wild green eyes searching every inch of me like he’s trying to memorize me, to assess every injury, every bruise, and every breath I take, in one single glance .
And then he’s crouching beside the car, his hands reaching for me. I clasp his shaking fingers as they brush over my bloodied face and my tangled hair. The throbbing of my cheek intensifies at his gentle touch; his chest is rising and falling rapidly. His entire body vibrates with barely restrained anger. He exhales sharply. “Angel.”
That’s all he says. And it’s enough to undo me. My throat tightens, my eyes burn, and my body instinctively sways toward him because no matter what he’s done, no matter how many lines we’ve crossed, no matter how fractured and fucked-up we are or what the rest of the world might say, this is where I belong. Right here, with his hands cradling my face, his forehead almost brushing mine, his pulse hammering just as frantically as my own.
“She’s… she’s not okay,” I manage, my voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper, as I shift slightly, revealing Meg still curled against me. Her body is boneless, and her skin is pale. “I can’t, I can’t get through…”
“I’ve got her,” Thiago cuts in. He’s at the other door, opening it much more calmly than Wyatt could have managed. My arms tighten around her instinctively, and Thiago notices. He lowers with ease, keeping his easy smile in place. “I’ll take care of her. I promise.”
It’s not that I don’t trust Thiago, but that my trust with Meg is shot for anyone. I want to be the one to help her, but then I look down and note the way she’s curled herself away from me, only remaining in my hold because she’s too weak to move away.
Swallowing, I ease my arms back, my heart splintering with every inch I put between us. For so long, I’d pictured a joyous reunion that she’d smile and tell me I did good. But that’s a far cry from reality. I haven’t done anything but fail her.
Thiago moves into the car, his movements precise and gentle as he scoops Meg into his arms, lifting her against his chest like she weighs nothing. She makes a slight, weak sound, barely stirring, and Thiago’s lips press into a grim line as he turns, already moving toward the paramedics on standby.
Wyatt doesn’t move, doesn’t look away from me. His fingers ghost down my arms as if he’s checking to make sure I’m in one piece.
“Can you stand?” he asks, something strained in his voice. It’s like he’s been screaming for hours and is struggling to return to an appropriate level. I nod, even though my entire body feels like lead, like every muscle is locked, like I’m barely holding myself together. Wyatt’s arms slide around my waist to ease me onto the seat, and the second I feel his warmth and his unshakable presence anchoring me, I break.
Not with sobs, tears, or words. Just a shuddering exhale, my forehead dropping against his shoulder, my fingers twisting into his jacket, gripping hard enough to hurt. He doesn’t rush me, nor does he say anything. Wyatt simply tightens his embrace, his hand pressing flat against the back of my head, his other arm locking around my waist, and keeping me right there against him, safe and steady.
The world beyond him is still spinning too fast and too loud, but Wyatt doesn’t loosen his grip, even as the police swarm around us. Torch lights flicker over our faces in a twisted strobe effect.
Wyatt’s fingers move, skimming my neck, threading gently into my hair. His touch is reverent, even though I can feel his entire body thrumming with residual rage and the aftershocks of almost losing me. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“I saw you,” he finally says. It’s a strangled sound, as if he’s afraid something will shatter between us. “Through the windscreen. I saw you attack him. If you ever do something that reckless again,” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening, his thumb stroking over my broken cheekbone, like he needs the proof that I’m alive.
“I’m fine, Wyatt,” I offer weakly, tugging his hand away. “I knew you’d come for me.”
“I’ll chase you down. Every damn time.” Wyatt grunts without hesitation. A warming feeling blossoms in my chest, the strain I’ve been harboring for weeks finally easing. I reach up, tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the tension locked tight in his muscles with my fingertips.
“And I’ll always find my way back to you,” I whisper before I can second-guess the weight they hold. Wyatt’s breath catches, just slightly, but then his head dips until his lips are pressed against mine. A single, sweet kiss that contains a world’s worth of promises. Wyatt has come to mean more to me than I ever expected, and now that we’ve stopped pushing each other away, the possibilities for us are endless. Our future actually stands a chance.
A sharp voice breaks the moment, and I barely process the uniformed figure crouching beside us until Wyatt lets out a low, reluctant sigh and pulls back .
“She needs checking over,” the paramedic says, and Wyatt doesn’t argue, helping to shift me to the edge of the open car door, allowing her to take my vitals, check my wounds, and ask questions I can barely answer. I let her work, but my attention is diverted. I'm searching for Meg.
I spot her just as the ambulance doors are shutting, Thiago’s figure lingering beside her stretcher, his face grim. For someone who is usually so upbeat and casual, the look doesn’t bode well. The vehicle pulls away, sirens wailing into the night, and it might as well rip my heart out with it. Meg has been saved. She’s going to be okay, but I have the sinking feeling that I didn’t really get her back.
I’m coaxed out of the car, Wyatt’s arm around my middle supporting me when all I have is an oncoming headache and a pair of jittery legs. A foil blanket is wrapped around my shoulders to block out the cold seeping into my skin, the jumpsuit doing nothing to protect me from the night’s air. But I hardly feel it.
We make it to the ambulance when two more police cars skid to a stop down the road. The driver catches sight of who I imagine is his superior and holds up a hand, mouthing, ‘ Don’t ask.’ Garrett jumps out first, quickly followed by Huxley. Dax hangs back to check Axel is okay, but even Axel is moving quicker than I’ve seen in weeks. I want to tell him to slow down, that there’s no rush, but it’s pointless. I want them to be here as quickly as they can manage.
Wyatt steps aside but doesn’t go more than arm’s length away, which is lucky because as Garrett barrels straight into me, he manages to grab Garrett’s collar and drag him back a step. On a second attempt, Gare approaches gently, sinking onto the step at my feet and clinging to my shins.
Dax’s hand lands on my shoulder as he eyes me to ensure I’m still in one piece. Hux unapologetically strides straight in to embrace me. Taking my hand in his, Axel lets out a quiet, shuddering breath before brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.
The street is a blur of flashing lights and shifting figures, the sirens and radios blending into a distant hum, but all I can focus on is the warmth of their bodies surrounding me, anchoring me to something solid. My knees are bent, my feet planted on the ambulance's step, and my arms wrapped tightly around Huxley’s torso as he holds me close, his heartbeat thudding against my ear. His grip is secure but gentle, his breath stirring the top of my hair as he presses his cheek to my head.
The others are close, so close that I can feel their body heat, their steadying presence keeping me from spiraling any further. The tension in their muscles hasn’t fully eased, their bodies still rigid from the fight or flight instinct that none of us have shaken yet, but the way they lean into me, into each other, is enough to quiet the tremor in my chest.
For a moment, we just sit there, huddled together in the middle of the road, the weight of the night pressing down on all of us, but then, one by one, they start speaking, murmuring soft words that sink into my skin.
“We’ve got you, Peach,” Garrett says first, forcing himself to keep his tone light despite everything.
“You’re safe now,” Axel adds, his hand resting over mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles like he needs reassurance just as much as I do.
“We are never doing this again,” Dax mutters as a quiet promise that settles deep in my bones. Then Huxley exhales a breath that shakes slightly, his arms tightening around me like he can’t bear to let go.
“I love you, Swan,” he breathes, pressing me harder into his chest. As if he holds me tight enough, he can make the last few hours disappear.
A huff comes from beside me, and Garrett nudges Huxley aside with a little more force than necessary. “Don’t kid yourself, Hux. I love her more.”
Dax scoffs, shifting so he’s angled toward me, his knee knocking against mine. “I loved her first.”
Wyatt grunts in disapproval, his grip on my waist flexing, his fingers pressing firm like he’s staking a silent claim, daring them to challenge him.
“Let’s not start that fight now,” Axel grumbles, rubbing at his temple. The blood has been cleared from his face but it lingers in red smears along his cheekbones. I swallow down the bile that threatens to rise, remembering whose blood that is, and Axel drops his eyes knowingly. However, when he tries to withdraw his hand, I cling on tighter.
I force a smile, hoping to reassure us both, but the second the expression stretches across my face, a sharp sting flares in my cheek. I hiss, twisting away from the pain on instinct, and instantly, every single one of them releases me, hands hovering like they’re afraid of making it worse.
“It’s fine,” I mutter, bringing a tentative hand up to my face, feeling the raw scrape of skin where the impact of an elbow has done a number on my cheekbone. The wound throbs under my touch, but it’s nothing compared to what it could have been. “It was worth it.”
The worry in their eyes doesn’t lessen, but I force myself to meet each of their gazes in turn, letting my fingers brush against Axel’s one last time before dropping my hand. “I love you all, too.” The words hang in the air between us, and for the first time since this nightmare began, I feel like I can breathe again.
“That’s enough,” the female paramedic worms her way through my guys to stand before me. “We need to get you to the hospital. Who’s riding with her?” Four hands shoot into the air, which Garrett takes full advantage of, punching each of the Souls in their balls. He jumps into the ambulance, easing me up from behind to lie on the stretcher. A round of curses and groans fills the air, but Garrett only winces when Axel calls him a lowlife bastard.
“Sorry, Axe. These things don’t have favorites, but since I’m Avery’s, I’m sure you’ll understand. We’ll catch up with you guys later.” Without waiting for a response, Garrett jumps onto the stretcher and wriggles all six feet of him to fit on it with me. I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head against his chest as the paramedic mutters something under her breath about juvenile delinquents and starts prepping the ambulance for departure.
Outside, the others are still groaning, Axel clutching his stomach like he’s been mortally wounded, Dax flipping Garrett off while wincing through gritted teeth, and Huxley glaring murderously at him from the sidewalk. Wyatt, of course, is standing stiffly with his jaw clenched, probably calculating how long he needs to wait before exacting revenge.
“You can really be an asshole sometimes, you know that?” I reach down and pound my own fist into his dick. Garrett yelps, but it doesn’t lessen his grin. He just tightens his arms around me as the ambulance doors swing closed behind us.“Yeah, but an asshole you love, so who is the real fool here?” he drawls, smug and self-satisfied, his breath warm against my temple.
I roll my eyes, feeling the exhaustion begin to creep in now that the adrenaline is finally fading. Allowing my eyelids to flutter closed, I sink into the steady rise and fall of his chest, the distant sound of sirens, the warmth of his presence pressing in from all sides. For the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t have to fight. I don’t have to run. For the first time in months, I can finally rest easy.