Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
WREN
“It doesn’t look like he’s there.”
Sire searches through his binoculars while Loch does the same, confirming, “I don’t see movement.”
I use the scope on my rifle, scanning what’s left of Nannie’s house, but it’s hard to talk. Charred rubble. Cinder blocks. A stone chimney. A burnt stove and debris. It’s all that’s left of my home.
But with Sire on my side and Loch on my other, we lie on our bellies and spy over the ridge. Grant, Jace, Axel, and Nash flank us, making sure we’re not ambushed from behind, and…
This is my home now.
With Sire and his family.
When we work together like this, how can I be embarrassed about anything that happens between us? It only makes us closer.
Together, we’re watching Nannie’s barn. I never burned it down, so I guessed Waylon would return to it. My instinct kept telling me he would, and Loch listened to me, but now I feel foolish.
Did I lead us on a wild goose chase?
“Wren?” Sire asks. “Angel, it doesn’t look like he’s here. The barn is empty.”
“I know. I just…” I keep scoping. I keep getting that instinct.
It’s the same I felt when I met Sire.
You belong here.
Through the crosshairs of my rifle scope, I spot a monarch butterfly. It flutters out of the barn, to the thicket of my favorite red oleander bushes, and…
“Wait, y’all.” I spot it, my pulse tripling. “Beside the barn, through the oleander grove, there’s a fresh trail through it. It wasn’t there before.”
I lower my scope, nodding toward it. “I bet that trail leads over the next ridge and across the creek. There’s an old farmhouse there—Mr. Grinzer’s. He’s a sweet older man, and Waylon’s an evil piece of shit. He’s probably forced his way in and moved his lab there.”
We hike in a single formation, using the dense cover until we reach the next ridge. I lift my nose and immediately smell it on the breeze.
Grant does, too. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Is that cat piss?”
“No.” I raise my rifle scope, scanning the windows of Mr. Grinzer’s tattered farmhouse, noting the new fan in the kitchen window. “It’s ammonia and phosphorus.”
“It’s a meth lab,” Loch agrees.
Quietly, we crouch into position and watch the property through our scopes and binoculars. After an hour or so, Sire whispers to me, “You okay?”
I lower my gun, grinning at him. “I’m hunting, city boy. I’m peachy. How ‘bout you?”
He lowers his rifle, smirking back. “Woman, I’ve hunted, too. Just not for my dinner.”
After two hours, a willowy figure opens the front door and stands on the porch. He removes his respirator to light a smoke.
“That’s Alan,” I whisper to my men. “Hurt him and I’ll shoot your ass.”
“Noted,” Axel chuckles.
A few minutes later, a larger figure emerges from the house, and rage crawls up my spine, one vertebra at a time. It puts pressure on my trigger finger. “That’s Waylon,” I hiss. “And he’s mine.”
“You can take a shot, Angel,” Sire growls. “But his head is mine.”
“Hold your fire.” Loch sounds calm. “If that older man is in there, we need a new plan.”
Waylon and Alan go back inside, and we watch the house while Loch and Jace circle the property. Thankfully, it’s a sunny day, and the visibility is good.
When they get back, Jace sounds skeptical. “No one’s out there. Where’s the rest of his crew?”
I watch the front door through my scope, confessing, “Oh, I poisoned them.”
Sire chuckles. Axel does, too. I lower my gun to see the rest of my men staring at me.
“What?” I shrug. “Let that be a lesson. Don’t piss off a woman and then make her cook for you.”
Nash nods, impressed. “What poison?”
I smile. “I brewed oleander into their sweet tea.”
Loch laughs. “She’s a genius.”
“She’s a queen,” Jace admires.
But I stare at Sire, who’s gazing at me with that look I love. It’s the one that makes me feel like Joan of Arc, leading her army of ex-Bratva soldiers. He boasts, “And I need to marry her.”
“Hurry up or I will.” Axel winks at me.
To others, Axel’s a dick. I guess with everything I know about him, I understand why he’s that way. But to me, he’s sweet. Deep down, like his brothers, he’s protective of women, and I can sense it; Axel’s heart belongs to one. I just don’t know who.
And I know Nash is secretly in love with Vale. I just wish he’d tell her.
I cherish how they care for me, too. How they’re doing this for me. It’s like each king is fiercely devoted to his queen, but they’re loyal to all of us. I guess that’s how they got this far.
“Alright.” Loch signals us to huddle. “Here’s the plan…”
With my back braced against a giant hemlock tree in the woods behind the farmhouse, I hold my position. I have a clear shot across the grassy yard, with my rifle aimed, covering the back door.
Sire’s at my three o’clock, on the edge of the clearing. Jace is at my nine, while the rest of my men storm the front door.
I’m calm. I know they’ll be okay. They move like a tactical team.
They flush Alan out the back door first, and Jace booms, “Hands up! On the ground! Now!”
Alan’s so stunned, he falls to the grass with his hands in the air.
Waylon runs out next, ripping his mask off with his left hand and lifting an AR to fire with his right…
But I’m too angry and accurate, remembering his threats and abuse. How he sold me into hell and how close he came to violating me, too.
I exhale—Asshole—firing a bullet through his right shoulder.
He spins, falling to the ground, and Sire’s on him with his rifle raised. “How you like them apples, Waylon? My badass Wren just shot you.”
Quickly, I chamber another round from the magazine. It’s my training while Sire kicks the AR out of Waylon’s hand.
He writhes on the ground in pain.
“Dad?” Alan’s not sure what’s going on, but Jace picks Alan up, one-handed, by the waist of his jeans, and pulls him away.
Grant helps Jace. He kneels on Alan’s back, putting zip ties on his wrists before they help Alan stand and escort him toward the front of the house.
But Sire looms over Waylon in the backyard with his muzzle pressed to his skull.
“Did you hurt Wren?” Sire presses harder. “Did you hurt all those girls? Confess the truth.”
“Hell, yes, I did.” Waylon shows no remorse. “Virgin pussy is worth a lot these days.”
I’ve never seen Sire like this, his face ferocious, his eyes slanting devilish and determined. That’s all he needed to hear. “Then vengeance is mine,” he seethes. “I will repay, says the Lord. And—”
“House is clear. We got him!”
There’s more commotion at the back door. It’s Loch, calling out, carrying Mr. Grinzer in his arms while Nash covers them from behind.
I watch it all in my scope as Axel emerges last, his shoulders dropping, relieved this is over, but…
A branch snaps behind me.
I’m crouched so small behind this giant tree; whoever it is can’t see me.
Another branch snaps.
My men are too far away in the yard to hear the threat, but I do, approaching from my eight o’clock. Slowly, quietly, I turn, peering around the tree, using my scope.
It’s a man in camo. He must be Waylon’s backup, weaving through the trees, his rifle aimed at … Sire.
Oh, hell no. Not my man.
WWWD? What Would Wren Do?
You have one in the chamber, three in your magazine.
Always count your shots.
I aim and fire at his thigh. He falls, turning my way. It’s exactly what I want as I reload, lightning fast. He opens his body toward me, raising his rifle while I aim for his center mass, and fire again.
“Wren!” I hear Sire call for me while I keep my crosshairs on the body in case it moves.
“Here!” I shout out.
In a moment, I hear Sire by my side, huffing, worried, “Angel?”
“I’m fine.” I keep my rifle aimed at the dead man. “He was going to shoot you. Check the woods. There may be more.”
While Axel covers Waylon and Jace has Alan, the others swarm the perimeter, rifles raised, looking for more threats, but there are none.
We meet in the backyard, and Sire holds Waylon at gunpoint again, waiting for Jace and Grant to load Alan into a truck parked in the driveway.
Alan’s in shock when I appear, standing by his open car window.
“Wren! Is that you?” He gulps. “Fuck, I hoped you were dead.” He shakes, his brow, sweating. “I mean… I’m so sorry. I know what he sold you into, and I’m so sorry. I kept hoping you were dead instead of—”
“Are there others?” I demand, “Alan, tell me. Has he taken other girls?”
He nods toward the farmhouse. “Not here but check inside. Check his laptop. He’s working for some evil shit. The Warden, and…” His bound hands twitch. His cheek tics. “I just need a little rush. Can you get me a—”
“We’re getting you some help.” I touch his clammy arm. “These guys are the good ones, okay? They’ll pay for it. Don’t worry. Just let us help you. You’re safe now.”
Tears well in my eyes, seeing the bruises on Alan, too. When he wasn’t high, he always protected me from his father. And when he was high, I protected Alan. It’s what Nannie would’ve wanted.
While Loch stays by the truck with him, I walk back to Sire, who’s still got Waylon on his knees.
There’s an eerie calmness to him.
Like that’s Sire’s body, but not his soul.
He passes his rifle to Jace, who takes it, covering Waylon while Sire unsheathes the machete strapped to his waist. I knew it wasn’t for the thick brush on our hike.
Sire yanks Waylon’s hair, exposing his neck before he places the blade to his open throat. “Look at my future wife,” he snarls. “This is for my angel. She’s the last one you’ll see before you burn in hell.”
“Fuck you,” Waylon spits.
“Don’t you dare get fucking blood on my Killshots.” Sire seethes, preaching scripture into his ear, “Do it and I’ll punish you according to your ways, while your abominations are in your midst. Then you will know that I am the LORD, who strikes.” Sire punches his face with his empty fist.
“Aw, shit,” Jace mutters, glancing at Axel. “Get two tarps out of my pack. He’s about to make a holy, fucking mess.”
“Wren,” Sire ignores him. “What do you have to say to him in his final moment?”
I stand over Waylon and search his empty eyes. He’s worse than the Devil. He believes in nothing, but I do.
I slap his face. “That’s for Banjo.” I pull back and spit in his eye. “And that’s for Alan.” With rage, I rear back and kick him in the balls, and he doubles over while I sneer, “And that’s for me and the girls. Fuck you, you little dicked evil piece of shit.”
But the urge is too strong. I kick his balls again because there will never be enough punishment for men like him.
Then, I gracefully make the sign of the cross. “And that’s for Nannie. She’s the only one who can save your soul now.”
I look at Sire and find a glimmer of the man I love. “He’s all yours, my Lord.”
With a pivot, I turn away. I know what Sire will do after I leave, and it doesn’t bother me.
I trust in God, Sire, and his vengeance.
I ride with Loch while we take Alan and Mr. Grinzer to the hospital. The sound of the gravel road and the silence of the victims in our backseat quiet me.
Loch reaches over, gently touching my hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You fight like a queen.” He winks. “You know you’re ours now, right?”
Through the passenger window, I watch the rolling green ridges of the peaceful mountains I love and shed my last tears. I say goodbye to my past.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I know where I belong now.”