24. Magnus
Magnus
My phone rings, and despite it being an unfamiliar number, I answer it immediately. “Bryant.”
“We’re at a gas station on the corner of Britton and Marley.” Simon’s voice flits through the receiver. “Send a car and call for a doctor. We’re fine, but June needs medical attention.”
He disconnects the line, and I reach for my keys, rushing toward the door.
“Who was it?” Hayes calls out. “Was it them? I’m coming with you.”
I turn toward him and stop dead in my tracks. “No, you fucking won’t. You’ve done enough.”
He and Dominic are the reason June left in the first place, and despite my better judgment, I've contributed to the situation as much as they have. June is hurt because of me, and I cannot allow him to make things any worse.
I pull the gun out from my side and hold it to Hayes’s forehead. “If you so much as move a fucking inch, I will blow your fucking brains out right here.”
His eyes narrow like he’s considering whether or not I’m being serious.
But I’ve never been so fucking certain in my life.
“Call my bluff,” I tell him. “I fucking dare you.”
“Fine.” Hayes backs down, stepping out of my way.
I rush out the door and hop into my car, pushing a sequence of buttons—one to start the engine, and the other to dial a number.
The speaker sounds in my car as I shove it into reverse and push the gas. My tires spin, and I whip it around and throw it into drive.
“Dr. Murphy,” the man answers on the other end.
"I need you at the house. It's urgent. I don't have any information other than it isn't life-threatening."
“I will be there shortly.”
"Thank you," I tell him and hang up the phone, focusing on driving a million miles per hour to the intersection Simon had instructed me they were at.
I break every possible traffic law, blasting through red lights, turning down one-way streets, and passing cars illegally.
I blow my horn as I weave through oncoming traffic and dart back across to the correct side of the road.
My tires skid across the pavement when I turn down the final street that leads me to the gas station where the love of my life is.
I slam on the brakes and hop out before the car is fully shifted into park.
With the engine still running, I run into the establishment and frantically look for her.
Standing there, one arm at her side and the other gripping her stomach, June stares at me.
I rush toward her and take her in. “Princess.”
“Magnus,” she breathes, and it’s like life is blown into my own lungs with the sound of her saying my name.
“Let’s get her out of here,” Simon tells me.
I don’t ignore his arm draped behind her, holding her to his shirtless body. But in this moment, nothing matters more than the fact that she’s okay.
“What the fuck happened?” I say as we’re walking toward the door.
Simon waves at the clerk. “Thanks for letting us use the phone, Boston.”
The man nods and continues whatever the hell he’s doing, seemingly unbothered by the urgency of this situation. But I guess on this side of town, crazier things go down on a daily basis.
“Did you call the doctor?” Simon asks while latching onto the passenger side door and opening it.
I rest my palm along June’s soaked back and guide her into the seat. I shut her in and face Simon. “Yes. He’s on his way now.” I reach for my gun. “If you want to live, you better start talking.”
Simon drags his hand through his hair. "You guys pissed her off and she left.
I went after her. We walked a little bit then got bamboozled by multiple vehicles.
They took us to a warehouse out near Crescent Valley.
" He points in the direction. "We both woke up tied to chairs, some bastard named Bronco—that alias sound familiar to you? "
I shake my head and grit my teeth.
“Dude had the same MO as Vincent.” Simon glances away, like he’s recalling a memory. “We managed to break free but not until he had already started.” He motions to the cut along his cheek. “We ran, they were shooting at us. June got nicked in the arm, fell into the water. I dove in after her but…”
That’s when I remember the story I had heard about his sister. She drowned when they were kids in some freak accident. If June’s life being in danger didn’t already frighten him, her nearly dying the same way his sister did was sure enough to instill terror in him.
“Sorry, Beckett.”
June knocks on the window to draw our attention.
“We’ll talk more about this at home,” I tell him. “Get in the car.”
I rush around and hop into the driver's seat, reach for the thermostat, and crank it as high as it will go.
I push on June's seat warmer and turn it full blast, too.
Anything I can do to rid her of the shivers coursing through her.
I reach across and grab her seatbelt, tugging it across her chest and under the arm she holds close to her body.
The fabric is stained red but is no doubt stopping blood from gushing from the wound.
Simon made the right choice in taking his shirt off and tying it around where she was shot.
And it’s only a matter of minutes until our doctor will assess it to make sure it’s properly treated.
That, and the fresh cut on her cheek and the skin that’s torn away on both of her wrists.
She must have struggled beneath her restraints, and from the look of the slashes along her skin, she used a blade to free herself.
If it were Simon or someone else, the pattern would come from the opposite direction, not the way it is now.
No, my girl fought for her life and saved herself from her tormentor.
And judging by the marks on her forehead, she must have blasted the asshole in the face, too.
Simon has his fair share of bumps and bruises and cuts, too, but June’s are just as much offensive as they are defensive. She wasn’t going down without a fight, and despite that ripping a hole straight through me that she had to resort to that, I’m so fucking grateful for her strength.
I rush back across town, but this time, obeying a few more laws that I broke on my way to her. I still speed and run stop signs, but I do it with more caution as to not put her life in any more danger than it already is.
We pull into the driveway, and I park the car back in its spot in the garage.
The doctor pulls in just after us, his timing impeccable.
“Who is that?” June glances in the mirror.
“Dr. Murphy. Remember him from a while back?”
“What is he driving?” She continues to stare until he gets out of the driver’s seat and approaches.
“He got a new SUV, no need to worry, princess.” I grip her hand and unbuckle her.
“Who’s here?” She looks up at me.
“Hayes was here when I left,” I tell her.
“I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to see him.”
“I don’t think that’s possible, princess.”
Another vehicle pulls into the drive behind the doctor and darts around to enter the garage.
Dom jumps out of his SUV and rushes over to where we’re parked. He almost rips the passenger door off my car to get to June. “You!” he growls at Simon in the back seat. “You fucking did this.” He goes toward the back of my car and June reaches out to stop him.
“Dominic. If you know what’s good for you, you will not make another fucking move.” June slides her feet out and presses them to the ground. She’s wobbly but remains upright.
I dart out to steady her. “Leave him alone, Dom. Things could have been worse without him.”
June moves between Simon’s door and Dom, pressing her small frame in to block Dom from doing anything else. “Get out of my way,” she tells him. She glares at him with a force that could wreak terror in any man.
Dom surprisingly takes a step back, giving her the space she demanded.
She shuffles out of the way and struggles to open the door.
I grab it for her and watch in wonder as Beckett steps out of the backseat of my car.
“Let him through or I’m leaving.” June marches toward the house.
I motion for Simon to follow her and head in behind them, blocking the path from Dominic.
There's no telling what he will do, and this isn't the opportune time for him to completely lose his shit. We’re dangling by a thin thread as it is, and we cannot afford for him to set June over the edge. He’s already done enough, and it’s a wonder she’s here at all.
She has more patience than a fucking saint.
I spot Coen the second June opens the door.
His eyes widen and his entire face tenses. “What the fuck happened?”
That’s pretty much on par with how I reacted, too. Although, I don’t know if I have that harsh of a wrinkle between my brows. I may have a few years on him, but damn if our job doesn’t cause him a hell of a lot more stress. Or maybe it’s just that I handle mine differently than he does.
“Step aside, Hayes,” I call out to him before he can cause any trouble.
We all funnel into the large area between our sitting room and kitchen.
It's definitely the most trafficked part of the house, being that it's located near the garage and has most of our food supplies.
Our second-floor kitchen has most of our backup rations and shit that doesn't fit in this fridge, but it's seldom anyone is up there for anything more than grabbing a drink or snack in the middle of the night because they're too lazy to walk downstairs.
June gravitates toward Simon, and he to her. It's clear he's the only one she wants to be around, and I don't blame her at all for that. But it doesn't make my heart hurt any less.
I go the rest of the way in and stand next to Simon, providing somewhat of a buffer between him and the rest of the idiots.
If anyone is less likely to murder him, it’s probably me.
It’s not that it hasn’t crossed my mind from time to time, but he’s proven himself these past six months, and whatever hatred I had toward him back then has faded into a distant memory.
He’s mostly tolerable at this point.