Chapter 8 Creed
Creed
“YOU GOOD, brOTHER?”
“Collins,” I repeat absentmindedly, and Jett nods grimly at me. It kickstarts my brain, and the panic I felt over Riley shifts. The fear and dread and relief all crash over me like a tsunami as my focus homes in on my girl.
Breaking from Jett’s hold, I rush across the room, kicking Guy’s bloody body out of my way in my haste to get to Collins. I wish he were still alive, if only to feel the pain of being kicked and thrown around a room like the fucking sack of shit he is.
I get to the foot of the bed, and the sight before me sends a rush of nausea through my core. Because there she is. Collins. My Collins. My Stardust. My girl. And she’s…fuck.
I want to break down at the sight of her but instead I stare in disbelief of what I’m seeing. If I thought she looked tiny before, she’s a fucking ghost of that in comparison now.
“Creed,” Asher’s cracked sob jerks my attention to him.
“Come on. Come on! You-you need to h-help me get her the f-fuck out of these…these fucking restraints!” Tears fall in heavy rivulets down his cheeks, his nose red, and lips rolled between his teeth as he frantically tries to free Collins with trembling hands.
Harsh, sobbing bursts of breath escape him when he frees one hand and rushes around to work on the other, a second medic taking his previous place, gently probing around her face and neck for signs of injury before we move her.
Asher has finally fucking broken, and I quickly realize that I’m right there with him.
There’s no containing the swell of emotions anymore.
I’m a fucking mess at the sight of her. The only thing keeping me tethered to the calm side of this insanity roiling through me is the fact that she’s breathing long, languid breaths.
She’s deep in a dissociative episode, tucked into a dark corner of her own mind, but she’s alive.
My muscles lock up when I get my first real look at her before the medic covers her body, granting modesty to the exposure of her bare thighs and hips.
A pained cry pushes through my weakened facade and my knees buckle beneath me.
The shirt that barely covers her body is spotted with smears and stains of blood.
I’m fucking frozen to the spot when I see that one in particular had bloomed and dried directly over the center of her breast. The shoulder where her delicate floral tattoo once sat is covered by a bloody sleeve, and the black ink is nowhere in sight.
Nausea hits me hard again and I fight the urge to bend over and heave.
Tears fall uncontrollably from my eyes as I take her in.
Cuts and slices litter her body from her shoulders to her thighs.
I can’t even begin to imagine what Collins has been through, but I’m feeling every bit of her pain as if it had happened to me.
I spring into action, unable to bear the sight of her laying spread out on this bed any longer.
Asher works shakily on the second cuff as I move to her ankles, momentarily freezing at the sight of a fucking spreader bar keeping her legs spread too far apart.
There’s a heavy chain connected in the middle, the other end secured to a bolt in the floor.
I hiss a curse, wanting so badly to sink more bullets into Guy’s lifeless body as I get to work on the ankle straps.
My hands are shockingly steady, and I’m able to free her limbs just as Asher releases the last cuff.
I barely register the medic noting no immediate injury to her neck before I’m scooping her up from the bed, her body entirely too light in my arms.
Pulling her tighter against me, I bury my nose in her hair for a brief moment and cry, fucking heartbroken for her, but savoring the fact that she’s alive.
A small, breathy hitch rushes past her chapped lips as her whole body tenses at my touch, and I curse myself for the hundredth time for fucking failing her. I press a whisper of a kiss to the crown of Collins’ head before whispering, “It’s Creed, Stardust. It’s me, baby. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Asher appears behind me, reaching over my shoulder to stroke a tangled, white strand away from her face. A rogue tear falls free and lands on her cheek as he hiccups and chokes out, “Let’s get you out of here, Bug.”
I refuse to let anyone take her from me, so Asher tucks the sheet more securely around her body, keeping her completely covered as we make our way out of the building.
Guy is no longer in the room, and a trail of blood marks the path where they dragged his body away.
Camdan stands guard at the entrance and watches us as we carry Collins to safety.
There’s a haunted look in his eyes as he stops Asher, speaking to him in a low tone, but I don’t wait for him.
The armored SUVs that were once parked on the far end of the property now wait just outside.
I lengthen my stride, glancing down at Collins in my arms. She’s still out of it, but her delicate brow is now furrowed in pain.
The battered muscle in my chest squeezes so tightly that I feel the agony of it flooding throughout my entire body. I’d do anything to take her pain away.
The sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel ahead of me has my head snapping up.
I’m automatically on alert because anyone who tries to separate me from Riley and Collins from here on out is an automatic threat.
When I see that it’s my father, I force myself to relax and quicken my pace to get to him.
“Is she…?”
“She’s alive,” is all I choke out before asking, “Riley? Is he okay?”
“This way,” he directs, avoiding my second question.
His hand presses against the small of my back and leads me to one of the vehicles in the middle with the hatchback open.
Rounding the vehicle, I notice the back and middle seats have been folded down to create a makeshift ambulance.
Riley is tucked against one side of the vehicle, his body wrapped in white sheets, straps holding him securely against a small stretcher.
His face has been wiped clean of the dried blood, but he still looks so pale that it has my stomach bottoming out with worry and dread.
Jett sits just past Riley’s head, right behind the driver’s seat, holding a bag of fluids that are running through an IV that disappears beneath the blankets that cover Riley’s body.
Dad climbs in before me and turns around, holding his arms out, indicating he wants to help me get Collins into the vehicle.
I want to snarl and snap at him because how dare he try to take her from me, but I have to force my brain to remember that this is my father, and he would never harm her or keep her from me.
After taking a lingering look at her face, I lift her into my father’s arms, and he works swiftly to get her situated on the stretcher behind the passenger seat while I practically jump into the back behind him.
Dad pulls the strap over her chest and cinches it before raising his head, his dark eyes meeting mine. “Secure her legs so we can get them out of here, Creed.”
“No—” I start to argue, remembering the way she was just restrained in that fucking bed.
“She’ll be okay, Son,” he reassures me. “It’s not ideal, but she needs to be properly secured for transport. You’ll stay by their sides the whole time. They’ll be safe.”
I hate the idea of tying her down, but I nod before reluctantly fastening the strap over her legs and pulling it taut. Dad climbs over into the driver’s seat, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror before giving me a brief nod.
Asher climbs into the passenger side, slamming his door shut with a curse.
His eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, exhaustion rapidly taking over his features.
A medic—who looks to be in his early thirties—appears at the rear of the vehicle and instructs me to move up towards Collins’ head so he can start an IV on her as well.
The moment the needle retracts from the catheter in her forearm and is secured, the vehicle is set in motion.
Lachlan calls Asher with instructions to follow the leading SUV to a private tarmac just outside of St. Louis. From there, Collins and Riley will be transported back to California where they’ll be cared for in a private facility.
“We’ll retrieve everyone from the safe house and meet you there.”
Right now, I truly don’t give a shit about anything other than Riley and Collins, but there’s one question burning on the back of my tongue.
“What about Guy? His body—”
“Will be taken care of,” Lachlan says curtly.
I look at Riley, his skin so pale and mottled with cuts and bruises.
Fury burns deep at the sight of his injuries, the life drained from the sweetest soul in the worst way possible.
I reach over and brush my fingers over his curls, ignoring the dirt and dried blood.
The contact grounds me. I then look to Collins, her face now wiped clean as well, and though she has more color in her cheeks than Riley, she somehow looks worse.
She’s too thin, and her eyes are sunken with deep purple bruising.
Her lip is busted and her cheekbones are more prominent.
Reaching out with my other hand, I brush it over the top of her head as well.
Rage swells in my chest at the sight of her fading pastel strands now stained with the rusty color of dried blood.