Chapter 40 Ash
Ash
Ican’t believe it.
It’s finally fucking happening.
We’re getting the fuck out of here.
“Turn left,” Rowan says over the blaring alarm. “It’s the door down the hall.”
I was tempted for a little bit to follow in Rage’s footsteps and take him out too. I’m not gonna lie, it took a lot of restraint not to.
But Mirabelle practically begged me, and the last thing I want is to stress her out anymore by killing her half-bondmate.
He’s holding himself together surprisingly well, considering he was shot and just witnessed his brother’s limbs nearly get torn from their sockets. And at least he’s making himself useful now.
The cold night air slaps me in the face as I push the door Rowan guides us to open.
“The car’s over there,” Rowan says, pointing to a pickup truck.
“Everyone get in,” I snap, wrenching open the driver’s side door.
I stare down at the console in front of me in bewilderment. Where the hell am I supposed to put the key?
Wait a second, where the hell is the actual key?
“Just press the button,” Griffin says, as he hauls Rowan into the backseat. “Just hold the break down and it’ll turn on.”
“Cars have fucking buttons now? That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard,” I mutter under my breath.
Their existence makes me feel stupid, but at least one of us knew how to turn this fucking thing on.
“I can sit in the back, Rage, it’s okay, you don’t have to hold me,” Mirabelle says, her hand resting on Rage’s chest as he squeezes the two of them into the passenger’s side.
He lets out a snarl that has everyone in the car freezing.
Even without words, it’s clear the last thing the guy wants is to let her go.
“I don’t think the big guy wants to let you go, Shortcake,” I say, turning the car on.
I still feel the itch to wrap her in my arms and never let her go. At least one of us should be able to scratch it.
“Oh, well, then if you’re comfortable, I can stay here,” she says, smiling up at him.
He doesn’t return her smile, staring at her as his chest rises and falls like he’s just run a marathon.
“Keep him calm, ‘kay shortcake?” I mumble.
“Oh, okay! I can do that.”
The last thing we need is for him to lose his shit when we’re in such close quarters. And this close to freedom.
In the distance, I can hear the faint sound of police sirens.
“We’re getting the fuck out of here,” I say, flicking the headlights off and pulling out.
“Why’d you turn those off?” Mirabelle says, her voice quiet, like she’s trying to do her best to stay undetected, despite the fact we’re in a car. It’s cute.
“Just in case any police are looking out for people getting the hell out of here,” I answer, staying on the back roads of the industrial buildings, the window cracked so I can hear whether we’re getting closer or further away from everything.
“Smart,” Griffin comments from the backseat. “We’re lucky they haven’t seemed to have gotten here yet.”
“Timing seems a little too convenient, if you ask me,” I mutter, my knuckles white on the steering wheel as I start easing us towards what I hope is the main road.
“Why look a gift horse in the mouth?” Rowan says through gritted teeth. “We should find a motel or something. I’ve got around 5k of cash. That should last us a little while we figure out what the hell to do.”
“Is that from all the betting you did on the guys and their fights?” Mirabelle asks, peering past Rage’s shoulder to glance at the kid.
“Yeah, Sugar. I was hoping for a bit more, but—“
“Why look a gift horse in the mouth!” Mirabelle interrupts.
“You’re right,” Rowan says, flashing Mirabelle a tight smile.
Damn. She’s adorable.
I’m jealous as fuck. I wish I had more of an opportunity to spend time with her. The connection between her and the beta is undeniable.
And I want that shit.
Desperately.
Soon. I’ve just gotta make sure we get the hell out of here in one piece.
Rage can handle taking care of Mirabelle now. Griffin can waste his time making sure the beta doesn’t bleed out in the back seat.
But I’ll be the one to get all of us out.
“Everyone shut up so I can hear,” I mutter under my breath.
The car falls silent as I roll the window down further, straining my ears to try and gauge how far everything is.
Far enough.
I pull onto the main road, flicking my headlights on as I make my way into town.
The cold wind whips at my face as I get the car up to speed. Mirabelle curls further into Rage’s chest at the chill and I instantly roll the window up.
We’re far enough away. I don’t think a cop would pull us over and question us. Not if there isn’t another obvious reason for them to stop us.
Red and blue lights flash from over the next hill. My knuckles go white on the steering wheel.
All of us hold our breath until the car passes us, its sirens fading into the night.
“Guess they’re headed to the fight,” Griffin says.
“Why—why can’t we ask them for help?” Mirabelle asks softly. “They’d help us, right?”
“No cops,” I snarl.
“Oh, sorry, I—“
“No apologies either, Shortcake.”
She purses her lips, picking at her cuticles in that way she does when she’s nervous.
God dammit. I need to work on my tone.
She’s an omega. She deserves kindness. Softness. Warmth.
Not whatever the hell I am.
“I haven’t been out in a really fucking long time, but the last time I checked, omegas get taken away and sold to the Northside to the highest bidder.”
She stiffens in Rage’s lap and his muscles automatically grow stiff in response.
“They’ll—they’ll take me away from you?”
“We’re not exactly the kinds of alphas—kinds of guys you’d find in a pack with an omega,” Griffin sighs.
I glance at him in the rear-view mirror. It’s obvious the guy has a soft spot for the beta kid. It boggles my mind. I obviously don’t feel the same way about him.
But over the time that I’ve known the new guy, I’ve built up a grudging sort of respect for him. He’s strong. Even though the chip on his shoulder isn’t as big as mine, it’s definitely still there.
“You were taken a lot more recently than us two,” I say to Griffin, nodding towards Rage. “Will it be weird for us to be bringing Mirabelle around?”
Griffin takes a second to think.
“Not necessarily, I don’t think so. There’re a decent number of places where the ring girls and stuff of the fight rings I used to go to were omegas.”
“They weren’t registered with the Northside or anything?” Rowan asks, his voice tight.
“No, none of them were,” Griffin answers.
“Well then, we’ll just have to stick close to those places,” I say. The last thing I want to do is go someplace Mirabelle can’t go.
“I need your help. Write down this number for me,” Rowan says, handing Griffin his phone.
“Shit, is there something to write with anywhere?” Griffin says, scrambling to find something to write with.
“Check the glove compartment,” I say, nodding to Mirabelle.
“Glove compartment?” She asks, blinking at me in confusion.
Damn. Sometimes I forget the fact she was raised in a fucking facility. Of course she wouldn’t know what a glove compartment is.
“It’s that compartment in front of you, there should be a latch under the dashboard,” I say, pointing to it.
I manage to keep my voice surprisingly even. Good. She shouldn’t have to feel bad for not knowing something. Hell, I didn’t know how to turn this fucking car on until Griffin mentioned the button to start it up.
She nods dutifully, reaching for the glove compartment and digging around.
“Found something!” She says, pulling out a ballpoint pen with some logo on it and an old receipt. “Here you go!”
“Thanks, Sweetheart,” Griffin says. He scrawls something on the piece of paper.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Looks like a phone number,” Griffin says.
“The doc’s. We’ll need it,” Rowan says, before rolling down the window and chucking the phone out.
“Whoa, man! What the hell was that for?” Griffin tugs the kid back down.
“He’s smart,” I nod. “Wouldn’t want to be tracked. And he’s the most traceable. Pretty sure the world wrote the rest of us off as lost causes.”
“Oh, I’m sure the world probably thinks of me that way too,” Rowan says, letting out a bitter huff of laughter. “But you’re right. The police are going to find my brother’s dead body there. If I were them, I’d look for any remaining family or whatever.”
“We should ditch the car too, then,” I add. “Since it’s under his name and shit.”
A bright neon sign catches my eye. Sleep E-Z Lodge.
“Found where we’re staying for the night,” I say, turning into their lot.
It’s a run down place with an ugly orange-looking paint that’s peeling. Not sure whether it looks orange because it is orange or because the fluorescent lights are so old they’re casting everything in an orangish glow.
“Any complaints?”
“This looks perfect,” Griffin nods.
“We’ve just got a little problem,” I huff under my breath.
“Problem?” Mirabelle asks, her eyes wide as she looks around the place.
It looks like she’s soaking everything in like she’s never seen anything like it before. Probably because she never has.
“The only one of us wearing any actual clothes has a hole in his leg,” I say.
The rest of us, including Mirabelle, aren’t dressed to book us an actual room.
Well, I guess Mirabelle could try. They’d probably think she’s some sort of prostitute, considering the thin robe and lingerie she’s wearing.
The thought of Mirabelle going out without any of us there to protect her, probably for some sleazy man at the counter to ogle her has a growl rising in my chest.
I meet Griffin’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and he seems to follow my train of thought.
“Let me see what’s back here,” Griffin says, turning on the light to the back of the cabin. “There’s a bunch of shit in here.”
“Pretty sure I saw a gym bag earlier,” Rowan offers.
With the light from above, the kid looks pale as hell. The jacket tied around his leg to stem the bleeding is dark, so I can’t exactly see how much he’s been bleeding, but it seems like a decent bit.
And he doesn’t have the advantage of basic alpha healing, let alone the juiced-up healing the three of us have from the drugs his family has been pumping us full.
Damn. We won’t have to take that shit anymore.
My hands clench into fists. I should be relieved. Those drugs made me feel insane. Out of control of my own body. Of my mind.
So why does the thought of not taking them anymore make me feel... itchy?
“You better not die,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes on Rowan.
Mirabelle would be devastated. And that’s not allowed.
He offers me a weak two-finger salute along with a deep sigh.
“Well this is something,” Griffin mutters under his breath, pulling out a white t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. The stench of mold clings to the fabric. “Gross as fuck, if you ask me.”
Despite his protests, he still slides the shirt on over his head and tugs up the shorts. He takes a second to wipe off his hands, which are a little stained with blood from helping Rowan, on a towel the stupid fucking bastard used as a sweat towel or something.
I’m so fucking glad he’s dead.
The only thing I regret is not getting the opportunity to take a crack at him myself.
I’ll just have to settle for Rage snapping the bones in each of his limbs.
Not a bad end, for a guy like that.
He deserved a lot worse.
If we had more time, I would’ve used that knife he was so fond of and carved him up with it instead. It’s the least he deserved after threatening to do the same to Mirabelle.
“Here’s some cash,” Rowan says, his voice betraying how much pain he’s in.
“Be right back, everyone,” Griffin nods, swinging open the passenger side door.
Silence fills the car, only broken up by Mirabelle’s shaky and Rowan’s strained breathing.
“How’re you guys holding up?” The sentence feels awkward and clunky, coming out of my mouth.
I guess showing people I verbally care is a new development. Don’t think I ever really did that until Mirabelle came into my life. Even before I was kidnapped and turned into the killing machine I am now.
“Getting shot’s a lot fucking worse than getting the shit kicked out of me,” Rowan says.
“And you, Shortcake?”
“It hurts, but—but after you told me that it didn’t, you know...”
I suck my teeth, taking a deep steadying breath.
“After I told you your bond with the new guy was fine?”
“Yeah,” she nods, glancing away.
I don’t like that.
I want her eyes. I need her to look at me.
If that fucker gets to have her bond first, then I at least want her to be able to look me in the eye.
“Look at me.” My words aren’t a bark, but Mirabelle follows my instructions like they are.
“I don’t like the fact you bonded with him first. But the last thing I want is you pulling away from me ‘cause you’re afraid of me.
They’re the ones who’ll deal with the consequences, if there are any. Not you. Never you.”
“But—but I don’t want there to be consequences for them doing something they had to do.”
“Did you want to form the bonds you did?” I ask, jaw working.
“Yes. I did,” she says.
“Then that’s something I’ll have to get over. But that’s my shit I need to work through, got it? Not yours.”
Even as I say the words, I can feel an itch underneath my skin. I have no clue how to start getting over this shit. But it’s obvious that this is eating Mirabelle up inside.
The backseat opens to reveal Griffin, clad in his borrowed clothes. He dangles a key from his hand. “Got us a room! Let’s get settled in.”