CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
SARAH
I’ve always loved being on the roof. Maybe that’s why I keep dreaming I’m a butterfly. I always fly so high the shadows can’t reach me. It’s peaceful up there, and the world’s not broken. Up there, we don’t have to be anything but free. No rules. No fear.
There are ten rules you need to follow, bird…
Sarah, don’t fucking listen to him.
Rule number one…
Sarah, his rules don’t mean shit. It’s just you and me.
Rule number two…
Sarah, keep looking at me.
Rule number three…
Sarah, listen to my voice.
Rule number four…
Think about the roof. Our roof.
Rule number five…
You’re the strongest person I know. Don’t forget that.
My head throbs.
“Do you know why my brand is a bird?” Tyler’s rough voice yanks me back to consciousness.
Pain means you’re alive. That’s what people say, right? Well, they’re not wrong.
I blink slowly, and blurs turn into shapes: a yellow tent, shadows, the fire.
Pain and confusion make a brutal combo, but I dig deep, cling to every last shred of stubbornness I’ve got left and drag myself into a sitting position. My whole body screams in protest, and it’s hard to breathe.
My God, everything hurts. Everything fucking hurts.
My right hand won’t stop shaking as I instinctively reach for the other one. The second my fingers brush a broken finger, pain crashes over me.
I look down at my left hand, and it’s wrecked. Pure fucking ruin. Not a single finger is where it’s supposed to be. They’re twisted and wrong, like someone forced the pieces of a puzzle together just to make them fit.
I’ve broken bones before—an arm, a wrist, even a foot once. But this? This is different. I can’t fight, even if I want to.
The cold bites at my skin, and I shiver. I don’t have my jacket. My skirt’s torn to shreds, and I’m shaking so badly I can’t stop my lips from trembling.
My arms are covered in bruises. Deep purples and sick blues paint me. Some shaped like fingerprints. Tyler’s. Proof of how tight he held on.
I’m still in the exact spot where I blacked out. I glance around and see dried blood in the grass, right where my face must’ve been.
The last flicker of firelight glints off the blood, dragging my eyes back up. The fire’s nearly out, but the smell of something burning is even stronger now.
Just past the flames, I see Michael. His lips are pressed into a hard line, his eyes shut, but his face… it’s twisted in pain. And I feel it. God, I feel it like it’s mine.
Tyler’s sitting on a log in front of him, cigarette in hand, pressing the burning tip into my brother’s forearm, branding him the same way Kevin did to James. Michael already has three burns; his skin is blackened and raw.
James is on his knees beside him, eyes locked on my brother’s arm. Blood streaks his busted lip, and his whole body is wound tight, just like he was when Tyler broke my fingers.
He’s ready to fight. He just can’t. Neither of us can.
I came back for him.
I knew I should’ve stayed hidden in the woods. But I needed James more than I needed to be safe.
“A bird,” Tyler says, lifting the cigarette from Michael’s scorched skin. “It was the first thing I ever killed. That’s why I brand things with a bird.”
I swallow hard.
“I was eating outside, and this little yellow bird flew down to my plate and started eating my food. Didn’t ask.
Just took what was mine. Can you believe that shit?
” Tyler shakes his head, as if he’s still pissed about it.
“So I trapped the bird. And it was easy. I was bigger, stronger. But you know what? It still fought, still tried to get away.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees.
“You know what I did? I cut off its wings.”
Tyler presses the cigarette back into Michael’s arm, burning a fresh spot into his skin. The sharp stink of burning flesh fills the air.
Michael starts to pant, shallow and quick, the veins in his neck standing out from the pain, but he doesn’t make a sound. Doesn’t scream.
“It didn’t die, but it couldn’t escape anymore. It was mine. Mine to do with as I pleased. Because now, it needed me. And you know what else? That little bird never fucking ate my food again.”
Tyler finally pulls the cigarette away and flicks the stub into the dying bonfire. Then he turns his full attention to James.
James stares right back, his blue eyes burning with a fury I’ve never seen in him before.
Tyler tilts his head, amused. “I know what you want to know, Outsider. How’d I find you?
People call me a ghost, and ghosts like to hide in the shadows.
Ghosts like to watch. My older brother Kevin said you should strike when people least expect it.
” He nods toward the yellow tents. “When they’re alone in the woods.
” Then at Michael. “Or cooking dinner at their camp.” Then he looks back at James, his lips twisting into a cruel grin. “Or when they’re sleeping.”
James’s lip twitches, and he spits blood on the ground between them.
“When I came back to Denver at the end of summer, after I found Axel’s body, I figured I’d find my brother’s killer there.
James Hill had already taken out more than half my men.
Of course he’d come back to finish the job.
That’s how he handled things in Texas, or so the rumors go.
What I didn’t expect was to find him with Alicia, the little bird Oliver let slip away last winter.
She came back playing Outsider in my city, just like her brother. Guess crazy runs in the family.”
Michael tenses beside James, his eyes flashing with anger.
“One night, that little pink bird stopped right in front of the old fire station while I was watching the streets. And she wasn’t alone.” Tyler’s cold eyes flick to James. “You were with her. I recognized your face even in the dark.”
Tyler shakes his head. “At first, I thought you were fucking her, taking what was mine. But then the fire station door opened and Alicia kissed some blond asshole.” He lets out a low chuckle.
“Took me a while to get your name, Michael. Alicia didn’t give it up easy.
Had to break that little bird’s wings first.”
Michael stills, and Tyler grins, soaking in his reaction, feeding off the pain.
“This morning, when I followed her here, she was dancing. So happy. She even spotted the yellow tents before I grabbed her. She fought. Oh, she fucking fought. Screamed when I bit into her shoulder. I liked that part. She had a good scream.” Tyler trails his fingers along his bottom lip, as if he can still taste her.
“She thought she could win. Thought she could save herself.” His smirk widens.
“But you know what happens to a bird when you rip its wings off? It stops fighting. Stops flying. Just lies there, waiting to die.”
My stomach drops.
Alicia.
No.
Michael’s breathing gets ragged. He jerks forward with a roar, his whole body shaking with rage, but the ropes keep him pinned in place.
“You’re gonna die for this, Tyler,” he growls, and I barely recognize his voice. “You’re fucking dead!”
Tyler flicks a glance at his brothers. “I think the odds are in my favor.”
They start laughing—all three of them, lounging around like Alicia never even mattered. Like she was just another bird to crush.
“Look at that. The new bird’s awake.” Russell’s voice is thick with amusement. When I turn to him, he’s already watching me, smirking.
“That one’s stubborn, Tyler. She’s gonna be trouble,” Oliver adds.
“No, she’s quiet now.” Tyler’s eyes land on me, and my blood runs cold. “Glad to see you’re finally learning to follow the rules, bird.”
He’s cleaned most of the blood off his face, but James did a good job wrecking it. Cuts and bruises cover him, and his nose is still swollen from when I broke it.
Good.
Across the fire, James’s head jerks up. His expression softens the second he sees I’m awake, but there’s still worry in his eyes.
He’s so beautiful. And even with all the fear shaking through me, those blue eyes ground me. Like I’m home.
Before I can hold onto that moment, Tyler moves. One moment he’s across the fire, and the next, he’s right in front of me, blocking my view of James. He wipes blood from a cut in the corner of his mouth. Then his hands clamp down hard on my arms, locking me in place.
“Let’s see how many more rules I can teach you before you pass out again, bird.”
“No! Leave her alone! If you want to hurt someone, hurt me,” James shouts, but Tyler doesn’t even look at him. His eyes never leave me.
The back of my neck prickles. I try to claw at the ground, but I don’t even get a chance to brace before Tyler yanks me up and hauls me toward the tent.
I can’t see James, but I can hear him.
“Fuck! If you hurt her again, I’ll send you straight to hell.” He’s roaring now, desperate and furious. “Do you hear me, Tyler? You and the rest of your brothers.”
I hear the crack of a punch, followed by a grunt of pain, then James’s voice goes silent.
Tyler throws me down onto the sleeping bag, the impact shooting pain through my already wrecked body. My broken left hand slams into the ground, and a fresh wave of agony tears through my nerves. It’s no good to me now, just another broken piece of me.
Tyler drops to his knees, pinning my legs in place. The air between us feels suffocating.
I know what he’s about to do.
I know.
Tyler’s dark eyes lock on mine, and then he’s on me, pinning me under him. I can feel him, hard through his jeans, grinding against me, and disgust rises up in my throat.
I try to shove him off, pushing at his chest, but he grabs my braid, wraps it tight around his fist, and jerks my head back.
His other hand yanks at my shirt, tearing the fabric at the shoulder.
I drive my knee up, slamming it into his balls.
A low, guttural groan rips from his throat, and he jerks back, gasping.
For a second, his eyes squeeze shut, riding the pain.
Then he looks at me. And I wish he didn’t. Because now, he’s furious.
“Time to cut your wings, bird.”