Chapter Seven #2
“I don’t live too far, only a couple of blocks,” Michael said.
“I’m beyond fucking pissed. How could he do this to me?
My gods, look.” He pointed to a group of people that Devon could see who were clustered around a building, all looking up.
“He’s drawn a fucking crowd already. Damn it, he’s gonna get me in trouble. ”
“Tell me the apartment number,” Devon said urgently, his eyes fixed on the frail figure on the ledge four stories from the ground. “Tell me the apartment number and I’ll get up there and get him inside.”
Michael stopped. “Shouldn’t I be the one doing that? He’s my boy, and it’s my apartment.”
“You’re not thinking clearly,” Devon said, keeping his voice low. “You need to go and stand on the street with the other people. Show concern and worry. Make sure your boy can see you. He won’t dare jump down if you’re standing there.”
“But…but…” Michael scratched at his head.
“Look, we don’t usually do this, but let me go up there.
I’ll take care of your little problem for you, all right.
You go and show your concern, so no one calls the police.
I’ll grab the boy and ‘disappear’ him for you.
Give it as long as you can after he disappears from that ledge – placate people, make a big spectacle of how relieved you are.
I’m sure you can do that. Once everyone is happy, you go up to your apartment, and your little problem will be gone. ”
“You’re a damn miracle. You can be sure I’ll be using your services again. My apartment takes up the whole of the fourth floor.”
“Perfect. Go play act. Make it fucking plausible.”
“I’ll win an Oscar for my performance, you’ll see.”
No, I won’t. Devon was already running for the apartment steps, taking the stairs to the fourth floor three at a time.
He could hear Michael yelling, “Wren, baby, oh, my goodness, are you all right? What’s happening?
Please don’t jump. I know you’ve been a bit depressed, but we can talk about things. Please, baby, don’t jump.”
Reaching the fourth floor, Devon was barely winded, but he let out a long fucking breath when he saw the door to Michael’s apartment.
The door was basic. The door handle wouldn’t be an issue for his bear.
But the long, thick slide bolt at the top of the fucking door drilled into the door frame…
Wren would never be able to get out of there.
What if there had been a fire? Michael would probably see that as a hellish intervention to his boy problem.
Sliding back the bolt, Devon pulled on his bear as he kicked the door off its hinges. His bear was incensed. He’d had to sit and listen to Michael’s shit, and knowing Wren was now in danger was fueling them both.
Devon ran through an immaculate but very sparse living room and kitchen space, looking for the open window. Through the living room, he spotted a small room, the shadow of a man’s legs framed by broken glass in a window frame.
“Hey,” he called softly, running into the room. “Wren, I’m here to help you. Come back into the room, please.”
“You called me Wren. You must be a friend of Michael’s. I can’t live like this anymore. I just can’t. Please don’t make me.”
Devon’s heart jumped a beat when he heard the low voice. Wren sounded impossibly tired, more than that, it was the sound of a man who had given up and saw no other option than to take one more step.
“I’m no friend of Michael’s, Wren,” he said, keeping his voice low and as calm as possible. “Is it possible that you’re also known as BlueKnight64?”
There was a gasp. Devon heard it as he moved into the tiny bedroom.
It was immaculate, like the rest of the place, and smelled of cleaning fluids.
But wafting through the smell of citrus cleaners was something else – something much more enticing.
By the Fates, it is the same as Storm and Pax.
Although Pax had never tried to end it all, the way Wren clearly did.
“You asked me to help,” Devon moved around the single bed.
“Remember your message? The one that was half written before the connection was lost? You were telling me about how bad things were, and I got worried. I needed to know you were safe. BlueKnight64, it’s me, Bear. You asked me to come, and I did.”
“Bear?” The legs turned, and suddenly a face appeared. “It’s really you?”
“It’s me and babe, you need to come in now, or you’ll fall, and we’ll never have the chance to finish our conversation.
” Devon wanted to grab Wren so badly, but his bear held him back this time.
Wren was tired – one wrong move, and he’d fall.
But the moment one of Wren’s legs was coming back through the hole in the glass, Devon was there, holding his waist and encouraging him to safety.
From the street below, Devon could hear Michael’s yells. “He’s saved. Oh, my goodness, he’s safe. Praise be. Thank the Lord.”
Really? Devon looked down at the man in his arms. “We have to get out of here. Michael will be back up here in a few minutes.”
Wren’s eyes widened, and he whispered, “I thought you were going to kill him.”
“I’ll come back and do it later,” Devon promised. “If I don’t, one of my friends will. But we have to go.”
After a moment, Wren nodded. Devon swept him off his feet and quickly left the apartment. Hopefully, there’s a back way out of here. Devon was winging it, but even as he worried, he and his bear rejoiced. They had their mate in their arms. Now they just had to keep him safe.