Chapter Twenty-Five
W rath watched in horror as a bullet tore through the man he loved.
Rogue dropped to his knees with a bullet to the side.
Wrath launched from his hiding spot and opened fire. Both Winter and Crow joined him and together, they attacked.
When one man hit Rogue on the back of his head, Wrath leaped across the distance.
“Motherfuckers!” Wrath raged, firing his weapon, he shot the man in the head three times.
Scrambling, Wrath pulled Rogue into his arms.
“Rogue!” he yelled, rocking the man’s limp body in his arms.
There was too much blood already, the back of Rogue’s shirt was soaked. The medic in him had him taking the man’s pulse, it was thready, but it was there.
Rolling Rogue onto his side, Wrath tore open the back of the man’s shirt. A bullet hole poured blood, and Wrath tore off his own shirt to staunch the blood flow. The bullet in Rogue’s back was a lot worse than the one in his side, so Wrath kept the pressure there.
Crow and Winter shielded him and Rogue. The pair fired, working their bullets through the room and bodies until it all grew quiet.
Wrath swept his gaze over the barn when the last echo of gunfire ended. Dead bodies littered the filthy ground.
The stall to his right had the door open and he was suddenly faced with a gun in his face.
Holding the weapon was a very nervous teenager.
Behind the boy crouched a small girl. Fear and rage stood in the boy’s eyes.
“I’m here…” Wrath began, but before he could finish, the boy fired.
Crow leaped at the same time as Winter, but it was Crow who managed to kick the boy’s arms up and away before the bullet could pierce either him or Rogue.
Winter disarmed the kid in seconds.
“We’re here to help,” Crow said, and the two kids sat frozen in the dirty straw.
“Rogue needs an ambulance,” the boy said. “There’s no phone service here.”
“We already called in the calvary,” Winter assured the kid. “What’s your name?”
“Chandler, and this is Summer,” the teenager said, pointing to the small girl at his side.
“What are you doing here?” Crow asked the boy.
“We were caught by Lister’s gang. The guy used to work for Solomon,” Chandler said.
Wrath knew there had to be more to the story, but first, he had a question.
“How did you get Rogue’s gun?”
“He gave it to me,” Chandler said with a nod toward Rogue. “Is Rogue going to die?”
“No,” Wrath said even though he couldn’t be sure. He pressed tightly, but the bullet had pierced Rogue’s lung and there was nothing that pressure could do to ease Rogue’s ragged gasps for air.
Sirens sounded in the distance and Wrath sucked in a relieved breath. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but he could do surgery in the emergency vehicle if he had to.
“Do you know Rogue?” Crow asked Chandler.
“Yeah, I was taken by Solomon when I was six years old, but I escaped four years later,” Chandler said.
“Did Rogue help you escape?” Crow said.
“No.” Chandler shook his head, tears dripping down his cheeks. “Did you know that Solomon used to make Rogue eat dog food? And every week, he would make him play Russian roulette in front of us.” The boy squeezed his hands into fists. “Solomon would use Rogue as an example to keep us in line. He locked Rogue in a box one time that he could barely fit in and nailed it shut.”
Wrath tightened his arms, clutching Rogue. He wanted to take away all the pain and felt helpless that he didn’t have the power.
Winter spun and walked out of the barn. The man’s strides were quick, and his shoulders appeared tight. Perhaps the guy had his own demons to battle?
“How old are you?” Wrath asked, turning his gaze to Chandler.
“Twenty-five.”
If Chandler had been six when captured, it meant Rogue would have been thirteen at the time.
Wrath brushed the hair from Rogue’s forehead and bent his head down to listen to the man’s ragged breathing.
“Have you been with the Lister gang all this time?” Crow asked Chandler.
“No, I came to rescue my sister. They caught me, though.” The young man grimaced and pulled the little girl close.
“We will take you home as soon as Rogue is on his way,” Crow assured the younger man.
The EMTs barreled into the barn and checked Rogue’s vitals. They stabilized the man as much as possible.
When Rogue was finally taken from him, Wrath walked alongside the gurney. When they loaded Rogue into the back of the vehicle, Wrath jumped in.
After a quick glance at each other, neither EMT said a word.
It was a wise choice.
“I say we get the hell out of here,” Winter said as he entered the barn and Crow agreed.
Helping Chandler up and out of the dirty stall, Crow realized that the young man was injured and favoring one leg.
Slowly, they made their way out of the barn and over to the two SUVs now parked nearby. Winter had managed to move both vehicles closer.
“I’ll take them to the authorities and then home,” Crow told Winter.
“I’ll get Rebel and Boston back to Santa Barbara after they give their statements.”
“You should probably get that knot on Boston’s head checked out,” Crow told Winter after a long glance at the vehicle that held Rebel and Boston.
“Wrath checked him and said it was a mild concussion. I just need to keep him awake.”
“All right, who’s going to call Real?” Crow asked, walking backward toward his vehicle with Chandler and the young girl.
“I’ll do it. You’re going to have too many unknown ears inside your vehicle for that phone call.”
Crow smirked at Winter and gave the man a two-fingered salute before he bundled Chandler and the girl into his SUV.
“See ya,” Winter said and jumped behind the wheel.
When he had left the boys, they’d been huddled together as if they feared being apart. He figured Boston and Rebel had history, but he wasn’t sure what kind. Maybe he was wrong. Right then, Rebel was in the passenger seat and Boston was stretched out in the back.
“Did you kill Smalls?” Boston’s voice came softly.
“No, he got away,” Winter said.
“I’m going to kill that fucker,” Rebel hissed under his breath.
And watching the teenager right then, Winter didn’t doubt Rebel’s abilities, but the last thing they needed was for Rebel to run off half-cocked.
Winter tossed a glance over his shoulder at Boston, who was lying with an ice pack pressed to his head.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Fine.” Boston lowered the icepack. “Is Rogue okay?”
“I don’t know,” Winter said honestly. “But if it’s at all possible, Wrath won’t let him die.”
“Sometimes, people die…even if we don’t want them to,” Rebel grumbled, gazing out the passenger side window.
“Yeah,” Boston agreed. “It’s better not to care.”
And as young as Rebel and Boston were, Winter couldn’t argue with their philosophy.
It was a creed he lived by.
Never get too close to anyone.