62. Seth
Seth
“IT’S CALLED TRUTH OR TRUTH.”
Citizen Soldier Playlist
(For Jude)
“Soldier”
“Thank You for Hating Me”
“Fake Friends”
“Gunshot Lullabies”
(For Vincent)
“Strong For Somebody Else”
“Monster Made of Memories”
Ihand Briella a rag so she can clean herself off after Raphael’s little impromptu fuck. She’s still wearing Vincent’s sweater, but not the leggings anymore. Raphael excused himself and came back dressed in his hunting clothes, nothing but black. Whatever. Never know why he does shit.
“Thanks twice,” she chirps and kisses my cheek when I give her the cane next. I love how she keeps fawning over the design. “You know, another good thing about this…I can whack any of you on the head whenever I want.”
I cross my arms over my chest and lean down. “You can try, Briella Darling.”
I can’t wait for tomorrow. Christmas Day is spent baking and decorating cookies, playing in the snow, feeding the animals, playing games, watching Christmas movies. Maybe we’ll even get to turn Briella into our personal gingerbread house.
“Well, Raphael blew the wind out of my sails a little, but I do have one more gift,” she announces, leaning on her cane. “And it’s for all of you.” She grins, her eyes gleaming, and I swear she gets that sly expression. The kind that makes my cock spasm in my pants. Wondering what she’s up to.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
With the cane, she’s a little quicker, more mobile than normal. I chuff a laugh, thinking of how most guys would take pride in making a woman so happy because she can’t walk.
I guess I can take pride in both.
She disappears down the hall, hips swaying as she goes—cane tapping the floor. We all wait, tension thick enough to carve with a knife. Jude puts his book down, and Vincent exchanges a shrugging look. Raphael resumes sitting in his chair with his Christmas punch.
I keep my arms crossed because if I uncross them, I might reach for something I shouldn’t.
And then—hell.
She rounds the corner with a cheeky, “Merry fucking Christmas,” and we all stop breathing.
Red velvet clings to her like sin itself. The lingerie is trimmed in snowy white fluff, with ribbons at her hips just begging to be untied. Stockings hug her thighs, sheer and shimmering, and that cane? She improv-bedazzled it like a stripper pole!
She gives us a little twirl, careful but confident, her good leg flexing as she spins—just enough to show off the curve of her ass and the garter straps hugging tight. Her braid is a little messy, her lips kiss-swollen, and her smile could set fire to a nativity scene.
Vincent coughs, punching his chest.
Jude’s brows hit their ceilings, “My God.”
“Bleeding Mother of God!” Rory exclaims.
And I? I just grin, because of course, she would pull something like this. Of course, she would leave us all speechless, hard, and halfway to feral.
I arch a brow. “You’re gonna kill someone doing that.”
She lifts her cane, winks. “That’s the idea.”
Rory charges for her but stops short when she holds up the cane, horizontal, like it’s a boundary line. “Nuh uh, Rory. Not yet.” She wags a finger.
He turns savage. “Ye think ye can just walk into a room dressed like Christmas sin and expect me to wait?”
Vincent rises to his feet, brandishing a fist. “You will, or I’ll lay you out, Rory.”
“I’ll help.” I wink at her. “I’ll sit on him if I have to.” She smiles, blushing more.
“Fuck,” Rory grunts, turns around, and goes back to the sofa, slumping down and brooding. But he’s still crouched, watching her hungrily.
After limping to the center of the room again, Briella sits on the floor and declares, “Before we get down to other activities, let this be some good motivation for you. I want to play a game.”
Hmm…this should be interesting. I cross the distance to the hearth and park myself on the stone ledge off to her side.
“It’s called Truth or Truth.”
She tosses her braid back, torturing us with her tits half hanging out from that white fluff. All of us fixate on her, waiting for her to explain.
Sitting back on her hands, she crosses those curvy legs.
“I get to ask each of you a question. I want to know more. But keep it simple. I don’t want to drag it out too long.
” She giggles, enjoying the power she holds over us a little too much.
“And once my curiosity is satisfied, I will share my story, my history of the asylum, with all of you. Savvy?”
I glance at Rory and shrug. “Fine with me. Could be fun. I’m down.”
“Ye’re always down.” He rolls his eyes, grumbling. “Just wish she were down.”
“Your dick won’t die, Red.” She sticks her tongue out, and he nearly bursts a blood vessel.
I tip my head back against the stone and chuckle. “What do you want to know, Briella Darling?”
“Jude.” She turns to him, and he nods in that annoying, courteous manner. “Tell me about how you came to be an ex-combat military doctor.”
“Hmm…” He leans closer to her with a heavy sigh, steeples his fingers, and says, “I enlisted at seventeen. The recruiter fudged the paperwork for me. Anything to get out of that hell. I began as a combat medic. Military schooling. They covered it all. I did well. Thought I’d have a lifelong career in the service. Thought I was one of the good guys.”
He clenches one hand, the veins in his forearm thick and pulsing. We know that look. We all have our own demons. But Doc’s? His bled, begged, then betrayed him.
“I discovered there was a drug smuggling op running out of my own unit. Field supplies going missing. Morphine, ketamine, fentanyl—stuff that disappears easily if you’ve got access and no oversight. I did what I thought was right. I went to my commanding officer.”
He huffs a bitter laugh. No humor in it.
“Turns out he was part of it. So were most of the guys I’d bled beside.
They turned on me so fast, I didn’t even see the knife before it was in my back.
They planted evidence. Claimed it was me.
Said I had easy access as a doctor. Said I’d been using the patients and supply chain to cover my own ass.
They testified against me—men I’d saved. ”
He goes quiet for a moment. So do we. Briella arches her back, and I know every empathy bone in her body wants to touch him.
The man who healed her and saved her life.
We’d be fools not to acknowledge how deep her bond with Jude goes.
Pretty sure she fell for him first, even if Raphael owned her soul from the beginning.
And even if Rory said ‘I love you’ before any of us.
“They court-martialed me. Stripped me of everything. When they put me in the transport to send me to lock-up, I figured that was it. End of the road.”
Then a glint in his eye. “Until you four showed up.” He glances at us. Vincent smirks. Raphael gives a sober nod, one arm draped over the side of his chair.
I chuff a laugh. “Now, that was a fun night.”
“Aye,” Rory adds with a twisted expression, considering the blood he spilled.
“Caused one hell of a scene,” Jude explains. “Prison transport didn’t stand a chance. Next thing I know, I’m free—and off the grid with the rest of you bastards. Well, apart from a last stop along the way.”
Briella lifts a brow, and I nod to our alpha. “Raph found the ones who turned on Jude hanging out at a bar. Same night he was going to prison for life. Damn, I mastered dismembering that night!”
Eyes wide, she locks them onto Jude. He’s more relaxed now.
“I didn’t lift a finger that night. I simply watched.
Call it revenge if you wish, but it was justice.
And retribution. Raphael, Vincent, Seth, and Rory…
” His gaze briefly roams across us as he finishes, “They are my blood brothers. More than any of those assholes. And despite our time apart, those bonds never severed. Chains on our souls. And hearts.”
“Ack, Doc, don’t be getting all sentimental or ye will make me sick,” Rory huffs.
“Well, we don’t want that.”
When Jude turns back to Briella, she’s already crawling toward him. Goddamn, her ass…the skirt covered it, but her plump cheeks peek out from the panties that are little more than a thong.
This really is the best Christmas!
Once she’s curled up in Jude’s lap, her head on his chest, she turns to Vincent. “What happened with the underground fighting, Vinny?”
Vincent sits closer to the center now, opposite Briella and Jude. He leans back, staring somewhere past the firelight, jaw tight like he’s chewing glass.
“I felt like a fuckin’ animal for years,” he mutters, rough-edged like his vocal cords have been scraped against concrete.
“I fought for cash. Years of it. Underground, dirty, brutal. Every punch, every cracked rib, put food on the table for the kids still stuck in the system. Even got shoes on the little ones’ feet now and then.
I hated the fights. Hated what I became. But I did it anyway.”
He doesn’t look at any of us. Doesn’t have to. We know. We remember.
“Jude…he was always there. Every time I came back bleeding or broken, he fixed me up like I was worth fixing.”
Jude doesn’t speak, but his hand twitches where it rests on his knee. The other is wrapped around Briella.
“I aged out. Thought I was done. But I kept fighting. Kept watching out for the kids. And then one day, the asshole running the fights tells me to throw one. Big payday, he said. Or else.”
Vincent finally glances at us—brief, sharp.
“They threatened the foster home. The kids. Said they’d torch it. Said they knew where you all lived. So, I did. Went down in round three. Let the bastard take me out. Swallowed every ounce of pride I had for those kids.”
A long breath. Bitter. Briella’s lips have parted.
“Turns out, the rival gang leader lost a fortune betting on me. Thought I’d win. Thought I’d stick to my record. He didn’t care why I lost—he just wanted payback.”
I feel the tension coil in my spine. I already know this story, but hearing it from his mouth makes it hit different. Makes it real.
“Jude was on leave. Raphael kept tabs—like he always did. You were living with him then, Seth.” He nods toward me. “Raph got word that something was coming. You all found me when they did.” His eyes flick to Rory. Cold. Calm. “They sent a crew to take me out. Rory was one of them.”
The fire pops. No one speaks. Rory just crosses his arms over his chest.
“But he didn’t.” Vincent exhales, and Briella beams at her Red….and mine. “Didn’t even pull the trigger. Hell, he turned on his own boys. Helped cover me. Got beat to shit for it too.” He pauses again, steady. “And turns out? He’s the one who tipped Raphael off in the first place.”
“Why?” Briella asks my partner.
He snorts and jerks his head to me. “Told ye, Lass. Only I get to beat up that punk ass. He was in the fray, on the other side. Didn’t have t’think for a minute. Especially when Vincent was the best of us. And what all five of us have is better than anything I had in that goddamn gang.”
My throat goes tight. I look at Rory. He’s avoiding me, but I see the way his jaw flexes, like he’s bracing for a hit he’s already taken a thousand times.
I make my way to the couch and sit down next to him. Keep it casual for his sake, elbowing his side. “You made a thousand fucked-up choices,” I murmur. “But that? That was the best one.”
Now, his eyes snap to mine. No guilt. No shame for anything. Just a slave to his instincts. But Rory’s gut? It’s always wanted me.
“Ahh, bloody Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he curses right before gripping the back of my neck and attacking my mouth, kissing me something fierce.