Ruptured (Death Dwellers Legacy Generation #6)

Chapter One Diesel

Momma hid her fears about Daddy’s safety. Rebel’s aunts kept smiles on their faces and a united front no matter what else might be happening.

In Rebel’s mind, death was a distant reality that she wouldn’t have to think about for ages.

Then her mother collapsed, one of her brothers overdosed, and her twin almost drowned her.

Death was no longer an occurrence decades away to be shrugged off.

It was at the forefront of her mind. Inevitable. Inescapable.

Current.

Rebel blinked at the TV screen, silent and dark, like the world around her.

The soft light behind her hospital bed cut through the pitch black and offered a small reprieve, but her mind whirled.

Coldness surrounded her and she kept envisioning herself underwater, fighting to escape, clawing at Rule’s arms, trying to pry his fingers away.

Her hair spread out, wet and heavy, an umbrella hiding her brother’s fingers from their dirty work.

Except her thoughts betrayed her. When Rule tried to drown her, she’d been unconscious.

He’d conked her in the head, so that freezing dampness seeping into her skin and pouring through her body was a figment of her imagination.

Had he killed her, she would’ve died without knowing how or why she’d crossed over.

She drew in a deep breath, gasping for air and struggling to breathe.

She remembered little about her arrival at the hospital.

When she awakened and talked to her father, he told her what happened.

Saving Rule was uppermost in her mind. Butterfly Kisses, the song Daddy played for her, soothed her turmoil and she’d fallen asleep.

Now, hours later, her lungs hurt and felt full, almost as if water remained in them.

Coughing seized her and stole more of her breath. Pain radiated from her chest and she moaned. The bedside light flicked on and Daddy stood next to her bed. He grabbed her hand as a nurse rushed in.

“She just started coughin’.” The worry in Daddy’s voice matched the look on his face. “It woke me up.”

“My chest is hurting,” Rebel croaked, her coughing lessening. She squeezed Daddy’s hand, comforted by his presence.

“That’s normal, Rebel,” the nurse said gently. “The doctor makes his rounds between eight and nine, Mr. Caldwell. He’ll check her out and discuss options based on what he finds.”

She sounded so nice, but Rebel was too tired to look at her badge and discover her name to thank her when she felt better.

“My baby girl’s gonna be okay?” Daddy asked quietly.

“Yes, sir. She’s one of the lucky ones.” The nurse reached over Rebel and twisted a green knob, then patted her arm. “I’ve increased your flow of oxygen.” She pulled out a syringe and turned to the IV, inserting the needle into the injection port. “There, love. You should feel better soon.”

Foggy warmth spread through Rebel. She tried to keep her eyes open, afraid to close them, afraid a watery grave awaited her.

“I don’t wait to die,” she whispered.

Daddy kissed her forehead. “You fine, Reb. I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ happen to you, baby.”

“Okay,” she said, believing him.

Her eyes slipped closed.

“Read it again, Diesel,” Axel said groggily.

Diesel wasn’t sure he had it in him to reread Axel’s favorite fairytale.

Since they’d been given a room near Rebel’s and Aunt Meggie’s, Axel hadn’t allowed Diesel out of his sight.

Not even for a piss. Hours ago, Ransom and Ryder fell into a restless sleep on the foldaway beds medical staff had rolled into what was normally a private suite.

Ransom, more than Ryder, kept awakening, plagued by nightmares.

But at least they attempted to sleep. Axel refused to try.

“I want to hear it again.”

“One more time, Ax,” Diesel said, worn out.

His emotions were raw. Of all the things he could’ve imagined happening, Rule trying to kill Rebel hadn’t entered his mind.

He hadn’t seen her yet because Uncle Christopher wanted him with the Triplets, but Diesel’s head was with Rebel.

He wanted to see for himself that she was fine.

Axel thumped his chest. They sat side-by-side on the window seat, though the blinds were closed. “I want to hear.”

“After this time, try to sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Once upon a time, there lived in a certain village, a little country girl, the prettiest creature was ever seen.” Diesel started.

“Like Reb.” Sniffling, Axel rubbed his eyes. “And Mom.”

Diesel nodded, unable to speak. Both their mother and sister were gorgeous, and they’d almost lost them to a crazy motherfucker whose days were numbered.

“Her mother was excessively fond of her; and her grand-mother doted on her much more. This good woman got made for her a little red riding-hood; which became the girl so extremely well, that every body called her Little Red Riding-Hood.”

Axel blinked his sleepy green eyes, shining with unshed tears. “Do you think our grandmothers would’ve liked Rebel, Diesel?”

“I’m sure they would’ve been,” Diesel replied, almost certain he spoke the truth. From what he’d heard about Dinah Nicholls and Patricia Donovan, they’d loved their families, especially Aunt Meggie and Uncle Christopher. “More than likely, they would’ve adored her.”

“Would they be sad about what Rule did?”

“Yes,” Diesel said without hesitation. “I’m very sad about it.” He was also livid.

“Me, too,” Axel said around another sniffle. He yawned. “I want to see Mom and Rebel.”

“You will,” he promised. “By the time you go to sleep and wake up, they’ll be rested and ready to see you.”

He poked out his lower lip and leaned his head against Diesel’s shoulder.

Diesel closed the book, glad for the reprieve, but sorry for the reason.

Now that he’d stopped reading, the silence of the room seeped into him and the scene he’d walked upon nearly six hours ago invaded him.

He felt as if he’d jump out of his skin.

He needed a hit so fucking bad, he almost brushed aside Uncle Christopher’s warnings, and called his dealer to buy enough coke to send him into a safe no man’s land for the next week.

Diesel swallowed, cold and clammy, muscles taut.

To calm himself, he glanced around at his surroundings.

The neutral yellow, blue, and green took away the sterile feel of most hospitals.

Though primarily for his family, this special wing never lacked patients, equipped with intensive care resources and privileges that became regular medical management once the danger passed.

Uncle Christopher and Mortician pumped a lot of money into the unit so it easily became an overflow area if the hospital needed it.

As long as Aunt Meggie wasn’t admitted, if there were club members or their family there, the design allowed the unit to be split, one side cut off from the other to appease both the Death Dwellers and the hospital.

It was the first deal Uncle Christopher entrusted to Diesel without Kendall and Brooks’s oversight. A deal Johnnie knew nothing about.

A deal that turned spare rooms into damn near hotel rooms when Aunt Meggie was there and required a donation of one point two five million per quarter that was split between Uncle Christopher and Mortician.

For Aunt Meggie.

“If Meggie safe, Prez straight,” Mortician confided to Diesel. “Besides, Red and Meggie girl the closest I ever got to sisters. I want her safe too. Motherfuckers always gunning for her. We can breathe easier if she getting care inaccessible to other fuckheads.”

The deal happened two years before Gunner’s birth. Diesel brushed it off. With Rebel admitted, he couldn’t imagine life as a regular motherfucker without the power and influence of his family. They would lose their minds in the waiting room or trying to sleep on uncomfortable chairs.

“I want to hear it again.”

Axel’s sad little voice seeped into Diesel’s brain and brought him back from the brink. He couldn’t lose himself to his own misery because his family needed him. Especially Axel.

“I have a question.” Diesel set aside the illustrated reprint of Charles Perrault’s fairytales, first written in the 17th century. “Why do you like Little Red Riding Hood so much?”

“Cuz it’s the only thing we all like,” he said quietly.

“I don’t follow you.”

“Mom always read Mother Goose to us and Dad watched us one night cuz Mom went somewhere with Aunt Zoann. Dad got the pizza from the gate. CJ was playing video games and I was bored cuz I was six, just a little kid, so Reb got her book. She got us all to listen cuz she was so funny being Little Red Riding Hood and the grandma and she made Rule be the Big Bad Wolf. We didn’t want to fight her or nothing. ”

Because of the trauma of the evening, Diesel wouldn’t question or reprimand Axel about fighting Rebel.

“A couple days later, Rule gave me a bunch of drawings. It was about Little Red Riding Hood.” He swiped at his wet cheeks and glared at Diesel. “Fuck that motherfucker. I’m tearing them all up.”

As much as Diesel agreed with that sentiment, he didn’t want Axel to regret ruining something so valuable to him that he’d kept it for almost five years.

The backstory gave Diesel insight on why Axel insisted on hearing it repeatedly tonight.

It brought him back to a time when his brothers and sister were happy and safe.

“Now I understand why you insisted on packing it in your overnight bag.”

Kicking his leg back and forth, Axel nodded. “I want to read it to Mom and Reb. It makes it funner.”

“More fun,” Diesel said with a smile. “I admit I thought you’d given up on your favorite fairytale.”

Axel sidled a glare at him and continued kicking his leg.

“You’re a Spider-Man and Superman fan now, although I still hold you in contempt for not choosing a Universe.”

“Objection,” Axel said, lacking his usual fervor. His little voice sounded sad and drawn. “You like both of them, so why can’t I?”

“You’re not me, Ax,” Diesel reminded him. “Besides, I only started liking Spider-Man because CJ was obsessed with him. When I babysat him, he loved that movie and watched it a thousand times. It grew on me.”

Axel shrugged.

Diesel took Axel into his arms and stood up. “Lay your head on my shoulder, Ax. Close your eyes. I promise you Reb and Aunt Meggie’s safe.”

“Where’s Rule?” Axel mumbled, his eyes already drooping closed as he followed Diesel’s order. “I want to see him, too.”

“He’s fine,” Diesel said gruffly, wishing he was so innocent. Clearly, Rule was ill. No motherfucker in their right mind did what he did. But Diesel couldn’t get past him trying to kill Rebel. Take her away. For all Axel’s blustering and fighting, he was a little kid who loved his family.

Diesel didn’t have the best singing voice.

He certainly wouldn’t win an award, but in quieter times—lonelier times—he recalled his mother’s lullabies, then he dismissed it as the fantasies of a brokenhearted boy.

More than likely what he sang to his little brother came from Aunt Meggie.

He walked the length of the room several times over the next ten minutes, crooning to Axel until the boy let out a small snore.

Smiling, Diesel walked to the empty bed and laid Axel in it. He tucked him in, then kissed his little brother’s cheek and straightened.

“No!” Ransom screamed.

Spinning around, Diesel saw him shoot into a sitting position. Tears streaking his face, he trembled.

“What?” Axel mumbled.

Ryder sat up and blinked.

Drawing his legs up, Ransom bowed his head and rested his cheek on his knees, sobbing.

Axel’s stirred, but before he awakened fully, Ryder yawned, got out of his bed, and went to Axel, climbing in next to him. “Go back to sleep, Ax.”

“Okay,” Axel said, turned toward Ryder, and followed the order.

Ryder pulled Axel closer, settled the covers around them, and closed his eyes.

With Axel taken care of, Diesel went to Ransom and kneeled next to him. “Get it out, Ran,” he told him softly, rubbing his back. “It’s been a rough few hours. Fall apart if you have to. We’re family. Brothers.”

Not answering, Ransom turned and hugged him as if he never wanted to let go.

“I’m here to pick you up. Hold you up until you’re strong enough to stand on your own.”

He spoke the truth, but the words felt hollow.

“I can’t go back to sleep, Diesel,” Ransom said, his voice muffled against Diesel’s shirt. “I just keep seeing her and all the blood—”

“It’s a nightmare,” Diesel said with certainty. “Aunt Meggie was bleeding, but she’s fine.”

“No—”

His phone beeped with an incoming text message from Jana.

Swiping his eyes, Ransom sat back and frowned, distracted from what he’d been about to say. “Why do you have flutes for a tone?”

So he could distinguish Jana from everyone else. He shrugged. “It’s a gentle sound. I know who it is immediately.”

“It’s a girl?”

“A very special girl,” Diesel revealed.

Dejected, Ransom laid down again, turned his back on Diesel, and curled up.

While he read Jana’s message, Diesel would give Ransom a moment to collect himself, so he got to his feet, walked to where his phone lay on the window seat, and read.

I’m in Camas. Mom and Dad allowed me to move back after I told them I wouldn’t be there long. I didn’t mention we’re moving in together. Call me.

Diesel read her message again. A few days ago, he’d told Uncle Christopher about Jana and his intentions to marry her. Excitement and enthusiasm for his future had given him a new purpose. He believed he’d finally get his life back on track.

At the moment, divorcing Tabitha and helping Jana struggled underneath the same pool water that almost claimed Rebel’s life.

He couldn’t imagine moving Jana in or even marrying her and hurting Rebel further.

He cared so much for Jana and wanted the best for her.

He no longer felt she needed him and his complicated existence.

Uncle Christopher didn’t want him with Rebel, but CJ said if Diesel waited until she was twenty-one and she still wished to marry him, he’d help to save his life. Whether that ever came to pass, Diesel couldn’t predict the future. He could foreshadow Rebel’s reaction to Jana, though.

Another message from Jana came through.

Mom and Dad invited you to dinner at your convenience. Call me when you get a chance. I miss you.

Jana was sober. He always knew when she wasn’t because she either abbreviated her words or misspelled them entirely.

He couldn’t bring himself to respond right now.

Once he saw Rebel, he’d put things into perspective again.

Maybe, he’d even rekindle his excitement about divorcing Tabitha and marrying Jana.