Chapter Sixteen
Carrie
I poked my head out into Mags’ small hallway, waiting to hear a sound. The sun was shining outside, and the ground was covered in thick snow.
Last night, after Mags left me alone, I finished the rest of my food and fell back asleep on the couch. Sometime later, I was woken up by the cowboy again. He had been holding a bag of clothes and toiletries in one hand, an older-looking radio in the other. He’d helped me up, directing me to the guest room, and then showed me where the bathroom was down the hall. His bedroom was at the end of it.
I’d taken my shower first with Mags posted right outside the door, just in case something happened. Luckily, my feet were better than I’d expected them to be, maybe a blister or two, but I wasn’t going to lose them. That was what mattered. I don’t know how or why, but I was thankful I survived that long out in the cold. After my candlelight shower, I put on the sweats and hoodie Valerie had given Mags. She also included a note inside the bag.
Then, I pulled back the covers of Mags’ guest bed, and I was out before my head hit the pillow.
Now, it was morning—early morning by the looks of where the sun was, and the cabin was quiet. I looked down towards the master bedroom, finding the door open. I stretched my neck, peeking inside to find the bed was made, not a single thing out of place.
Perhaps Mags was already working on the ranch today.
Nevertheless, I still tiptoed across the hall, into the bathroom, happy to find the power was back on, and brushed my teeth. Once that was done, I did my best to tame my curls before looking at myself in the mirror. The bruise on my cheekbone was fading fairly quickly, and my lips looked way better this morning, thanks to the ChapStick Valerie had given me. Slowly, I brought my hands up to my face, pausing when I spotted the bruises from the zip-ties.
For a moment, I forgot about my bruised face, bringing my other hand up, inspecting both wrists now. When I turned them over, I didn’t even bother looking at the scars. Those scars belonged to the old Carrie, not me, and the bruises would fade soon. I looked back into the mirror, leaning over the counter as I brushed my fingertips over the bruise. It didn’t hurt, which was a good sign.
I bit the inside of my cheek, leaning back and wondering how Grayson was going to react to this.
Would he be angry at me for going to the store on my own? Would he want to end things with me? Would he hate me for my foolishness? Would he even want to touch me while bruises from another man painted my skin? Would he still love me now, after being even more damaged?
My throat thickened as questions echoed in my head like a broken record of anxiety. I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut to stop the tears. I’d come too far to cry about things like this, dammit.
“Yes,” I whispered to myself, staring at the woman in the mirror. “Yes, you’re damaged. But you are also healed. You’ve overcome so much, clawed your way out of the hell the world put you in. You are not your anxiety. You are not your fears. You are not your trauma. You are not a burden, Carrie.”
My eyes stung with tears, but I managed to hold them back, my bottom lip trembling. “You are worthy of love, and Grayson loves you.” I tossed my arms out in a pathetic shrug. “He loves you, and nothing will ever change that. He told you that himself,” I whispered.
I love you more than anything else in this world.
I love you more than anything else in this world.
I love you more than anything else in this world.
Grayson would be here soon, and then, everything would be alright.
The sound of a door opening and closing had my head snapping towards the bathroom door, and I heard a new voice. A male voice. One I didn’t know.
“Look, the storm’s gone and the roads are getting cleared. Denver called me this morning, told me about her—”
“I don’t give a fuck what he told you. You aren’t questioning her until Joseph Grayson is here with her,” Mags growled.
I reached for the doorknob, slowly twisting it and pulling the door open slowly.
“Mags,” the other voice sighed. “Look, I’m fucking tired. I just dragged my ass out here—”
“—and you can drag your ass back into town, Sheriff.”
Sheriff? Michael?
I was moving then, my feet carrying me toward the voices, not stopping until I was in the living room. My eyes went wide at the sight of Mags in all black, his cowboy hat perched on his head like it was meant to be there. My eyes drifted over to the second hat in the room, the one on the Sheriff’s head. Disappointment fulled my veins as I looked at the stranger who was a few years older than Michael.
Both of the men were staring at me now, Mags looking pissed and the Sheriff looking shocked.
“I’m sorry,” the Sheriff began, jerking his thumb to me as he looked back to Mags, “I thought you said you spotted her on the trail camera and found her passed out in the snow.”
I looked over to Mags, my heart skipping a beat. I owed him my life now, and I didn’t know how I was going to return the favor.
“Told you that’s what happened, didn’t I?” Mags shot back at the man before looking at me. “Are you okay?”
I gave him a small smile and nodded. “I’m okay, Mags,” I said softly.
He answered with a small nod before returning his attention to the sheriff, snapping his fingers toward the door. “Get the fuck out, Chase.”
“Actually,” I cut in, taking another step into the space, “I was wondering if I could talk to the Sheriff.”
Ignoring Mags, the sheriff—Chase—stepped forward, holding his hand out to me. “I’m Sheriff Chase Bowen, ma’am. You can just call me Chase.”
I took his hand and gave it a gentle shake. “Carrie Hale.”
“Denver called me, updating me on your situation,” Chase said, shooting a glare to the cowboy behind him. “Come to find out, you have some very concerned friends in Astoria. Sheriff Humbly has been contacting police stations across the west coast looking for you.”
Michael.
Fucking Michael.
I sniffled, looking away from him for a second. “Yes, he’s a good friend.”
Chase said nothing until I met his eyes again. “Carrie, I need to get your official statement.”
I nodded. “Good, because I need to report a possible murder.”
The air in the room shifted, both men stiffening.
Then, slowly, Chase took his hat off, a sad, heavy sigh leaving him. “Fuck,” he muttered.
“What?” Mags demanded. “What is it?” He didn’t wait for an answer, crossing the living room to me. “Carrie, what the hell?”
“Before I left—escaped—Brandon attacked Monica,” I told Mags.
He stared.
“You—you know who I’m talking about, right?” I asked and he nodded once, his eyes filled with fury.
“Who are Brandon and Monica?” Chase asked.
“Just the two people hellbent on killing me and taking my trust fund,” I answered casually.
“Just the—mother of God. I’d thought this fucking town had seen enough with fucking Moonie and the fucking fire,” Chase grumbled, pulling out his phone.
I looked at Mags in confusion, and he only gave me a slight shake of the head.
Who was Moonie?
What fire?
Chase looked at me, his face serious. “Where did you escape from? I’m assuming it was somewhere around Hayden. Denver told me you were barefoot when Mags found you, is that correct?”
I nodded, bringing my hands together and twisting my fingers.
“I came from the other side of that mountain,” I explained, pointing to the window in the kitchen facing the mountain. “I was in a motel about two miles away from the ranch.” I went on to explain how I found the fencing and how far I traveled before finding the graveyard.
Chase’s eyes sliced to Mags for a moment, saying nothing. When he looked back at me, his voice was calm, almost lethal. “And what about this ‘possible murder?’”
I sighed and looked down to my feet, which were now covered in thick wool socks, provided by Val. “Brandon isn’t…right in the head,” I said.
Mags grunted.
“What do you mean by that?” Chase asked.
I looked up at him. “This is a long and complicated story, Sheriff.”
He took a step forward, ready to say something but Mags cut him off.
“Look, you just need to wait until Joseph Grayson gets here, and then—” Mags cut himself off as a loud whirling sounded in the distance, getting closer and closer by the second.
I looked up to Mags. “What is that?”
“A helicopter,” Chase answered for the cowboy.
Mags was on the move, prowling towards the door and pulling it open. The sound was overwhelming now, the snow on the ground was spinning in circles. My heart jump into my throat.
Grayson.
Grayson was here.
Suddenly, I was moving, cutting around Mags’ furniture to stand beside him. The large, black helicopter was lowering itself down, hovering over the fresh blanket of snow, the blades chopping through the cold, morning air loudly. The mountain, the Langston mountain stood proud, covered in snow and ash.
When I looked back to chopper, it had slowly begun its descent, the blades commanding the air around it as snow rose up back into the air, sparkling in the sun. It felt like Christmas morning. The warm, golden glow of the sun was shining around the helicopter, creating a heavenly image, and before I could think, I was stepping onto the cabin porch, chest heaving and heart pounding.
I felt body heat behind me, and then Mags’ voice was close to my ear. “I’ll let you stay on the porch, but if you run out into that snow, Grayson will have my balls. So try not to do that, yeah?”
Tears stung my eyes as I turned to look at the cowboy, a smile spreading across my face as the wind whipped around us. I didn’t even feel cold. Grayson was here now, and everything was going to be okay. As long as Grayson was with me, I would always be warm. I would always be safe.
As a tear fell down my cheek, I held up my pinkie to the tortured, brooding cowboy. “I won’t run out in the snow,” I said over the sound of the helicopter.
Mags eyed my pinkie as the chopper continued to land out of the corner of my eye. “The fuck is that?” he asked bluntly.
“A pinkie promise. They’re sacred,” I yelled, chuckling at the end. “Link yours with mine, and I won’t go out in the snow.”
He looked to the chopper, shaking his head before linking his pinkie with mine, his skin rough and warm. I beamed at him, and for a half a second, I thought he would actually smile at me. He didn’t, but I knew, deep down, that when Mags finally did smile again, the world would be forever changed. He dropped my finger and jerked his chin towards the chopper.
The helicopter landed, and I held my breath as the massive blades slowed, my eyes on the man with aviators on in the cockpit. That was Hayes . I hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet, but Grayson told me he was the second in command at Red Snake and a retired Air Force pilot.
I wondered if the rest of the team was here too.
When the side door of the chopper opened, I brought my hand up to my mouth, trying to stop the sound from escaping, but it was too late. My eyes landed on the man I loved, the man who owned me, body and soul, and I felt my knees go weak. It took everything I had to remain standing.
Grayson was here.
I watched in awe, holding my breath as he hopped down into the snow with a fluid, menacing grace. He was dressed in dark green cargo pants with a gun strapped to his hip, black combat boots, and a long-sleeved thermal. He didn’t have a coat or gloves, but I knew he didn’t care. He was here for me, and nothing else mattered to him. That was just how he loved, my Grayson. It was all or nothing for him, and I was ready to spend the rest of my life giving him my all.
The sun shined down on him as he made his way to the cabin, casting a halo of sorts around his broad, tall figure. It was an image I would never forget, even when I was old and gray. He was my dark angel, and I was his sunshine. I stared at his handsome, scarred face that was directed at me, his eyes behind dark shades. I couldn’t wait to look into those eyes, to see his kind soul lingering within the darkness I’d come to know. His darkness was my safe space, and I’d spend an eternity within it if he’d let me.
My eyes dropped to his hands once he was close enough. I just needed to see the snake tattoos.
One red.
One white.
When my bounty hunter was a few feet from the porch steps, I heard Chase come out of the cabin as the blades of the chopper slowed. Grayson’s head shifted slightly to the side, his focus on Mags.
“Leave us,” Grayson clipped, his voice like granite.
Suddenly, all the warmth I’d been feeling left me, and I was freezing once more, just like I had been yesterday.
I froze, staring at him as my lips parted in shock. His boot landed on the bottom step of the wooden porch, the sound almost deafening. He looked to the other side of me at the Sheriff. “Get out,” he ordered.
I expected Chase to argue, and when he didn’t, I looked over to find him giving me a small smile as he put his hat back on. “We’ll talk in a little bit Carrie,” he promised. He made his way down the steps, nodding at Grayson. “Grayson.”
“Sheriff,” he replied curtly, not taking his eyes off Mags. Once Chase was out of earshot, Grayson ordered, “Now, Mags.”
A grunt came from the cowboy, and then he too was heading down the porch steps leaving me all alone. I watched as Mags stopped beside Grayson, saying something low in his ear. My lover nodded once, looking at the ground.
He wasn’t looking at me.
Why—why wasn’t he looking at me?
Then, Mags was walking away, heading towards the chopper. I looked over Grayson’s head, finding Jake and Dominic standing in the snow now, greeting Mags.
A sharp, low order rang in my ears then. “Get in the fucking cabin.”
My head snapped back down to Grayson, who was now standing on the second step. “Grayson,” I practically whimpered, my lip trembling. He said nothing, his chest and shoulders moving calmly with each breath. “Grayson, talk—”
“Get in the goddamn cabin, Carrie. Now.” The words came out quick and swift, like bullets heading straight for my heart.
My anxiety had been right; he was going to leave me. I bent my head, hiding my bruised face from him as I turned around, heading into the cabin. I walked straight, not stopping until I was standing in front of the fire, and that’s when I noticed a blanket and pillow folded up neatly on the couch. My brows came together.
Had Mags slept out here last night?
Grayson’s heavy footsteps sounded behind me, and I looked back to the fire, wrapping my arms around myself. The sunlight seeping into the cabin was cut off then as Grayson quite literally slammed the door shut. I waited for something—anything. His words. His body heat to come up behind me. Anything.
When nothing happened, I closed my eyes, letting a final tear fall as I braced myself for what was to come next.
“Look at me,” he demanded roughly from far behind me.
I took a breath, holding it in as I slowly spun to face him.
His shades were off now, and I was utterly compelled by his beauty. “Grayson,” I whispered, my voice cracking.
Those dark eyes studied my face, and when they landed on the bruise, his nostrils flared as his jaw tightened underneath his short beard. “I’m going to fucking slaughter them,” he growled.
I knew that.
I knew he was going to.
There wouldn’t be a shred of mercy shown to Brandon or Monica, if she was still alive by the time Grayson caught them.
“How are your feet?” he pressed gruffly, his hand with the red snake balled into a fist at his side now, the other holding his sunshades.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “They’re okay,” I answered weakly. “Just a few blisters. Mags gave me some bandages to wrap them up in last night.”
“Are you hurting anywhere else?”
Only my heart, if you shatter it right here and now.
I held my tongue, shaking my head for an answer.
Grayson let out a breath and tossed the shades onto the couch. “Thank fucking Christ for that, baby,” he pushed out, coming for me then.
My eyes widened, and before I could even get a word out, my face was in his hands and his lips were crashing down onto mine.