Chapter 33
Salem
I lay in my bed at the Roost. The echoes of earlier still clung to me like a demon I couldn’t shake. My body felt like it had been dragged through hell, and in a way, it had. I could still feel the tight ropes Cutter had tied around me, the cold press of the corn husks under my feet, and the smell of burning wood that threatened to swallow me whole. If Heresy hadn’t shown up... I didn’t want to think about that.
Pixie sat next to me on the bed, her eyes soft but her expression serious. “That fucker took you in your sleep? Jesus, Salem, how the hell did he even—”
“He was strong, Pix,” I interrupted, my voice barely audible to others. “I fought. I fought like hell, but it wasn’t enough. He was stronger, and he was ready. Had everything planned out.”
I didn’t tell her the other ways I tried to fight back. What I summoned. Why the house was on fire too. I had wanted to set Cutter ablaze.
“Fucking Slayers,” she said through her teeth.
“He was alone, Pix. None of his brothers would stand with him. Not a single one.”
Pixie swore under her breath, her hand coming to rest on mine. “I’m so sorry. I should have—”
“There was nothing you could’ve done,” I said, shaking my head. “This was on Cutter. He lost it. I don’t know what he was trying to prove, but he was willing to do whatever it took to make a statement, even if it meant breaking every code there is.”
“Rage is dealing with it,” Pixie said softly. “She’s at the Lair now, making sure that bastard pays for every second of what he did. Believe me, he’ll suffer for it.”
The thought of Cutter suffering should’ve made me feel better, but it didn’t. I was just... exhausted. Numb. I needed to scrub this whole night off my skin, to feel clean, like none of it ever happened.
“I’m gonna hit the shower,” I muttered, standing up, my body aching from head to toe. Pixie nodded, giving me space as I walked into the small bathroom and turned the water on as hot as I could stand it. The steam filled the room almost immediately, and I stepped under the spray, letting the heat scald away the cold fear still clinging to my bones.
I stayed there until the water ran cold, trying to shake off the feeling of Cutter’s hands on me, the way he’d tied me up, the panic that had clawed at my throat as I realized I might not get out of there alive.
After the shower, Pixie and Razor helped me back to bed. They didn’t say much, just tucked me in, like I was a child who needed comforting. Maybe I did.
I drifted in and out of sleep, the exhaustion pulling me under despite the adrenaline still buzzing in my veins. But then, sometime in the middle of the night, I felt the bed shift, and my eyes fluttered open.
Heresy.
He was perched on the edge of the bed, his face shadowed but unmistakable. His usual calm, brooding energy was there, but something was different tonight. He was covered in specks of dirt, and I could see dried blood on his arms and along the edges of his clothes. I reached out, my hand brushing his arm, feeling the roughness of whatever he’d been through since he left me.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice groggy but filled with concern. “You... you’re a mess.”
He shook his head, his eyes avoiding mine. “It doesn’t matter. Cutter... it’s done. I don’t want to talk about it.”
I didn’t press him. I knew better than that. Whatever had gone down between him, Cutter, and his club, it was ugly. But the fact that Heresy had walked away from it and come straight to me? That said more than words ever could.
He stood and stripped off his clothes, the grime falling away as he made his way to the bathroom for a shower. I heard the water running, and after a few minutes, he came back, clean but still carrying the weight of the night on his shoulders. He slipped into bed beside me, pulling me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest as if he was scared to let go.
I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of him soothe me, and for the first time since Cutter took me, I felt safe. Truly safe.
When I woke the next morning, Heresy was still there, lying on his side, watching me. His dark eyes held a strange mix of tenderness and something deeper. I knew what it was, because I felt it too. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.
“You’re still here,” I whispered, my voice rough from sleep.
He gave me a small smile. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”
I let out a shaky breath, and for a moment, we just lay there, a magic humming between us.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said softly. “About us.”
I tensed, not sure where this was going. “What about us?”
He shifted closer, his arm tightening around me. “I want us to be together, Salem. For real. I want you as my old lady, my wife.”
My heart fluttered, and I felt my chest tighten. “Heresy, I... I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I’m still figuring things out. I just got my patch. And you—”
“I know,” he interrupted in a rush. “But I claimed you that night in the haunted house. You’re mine, Salem. You know it as much as I do.”
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. I couldn’t deny the pull between us, but marriage? That was a whole other level. “I’m yours, Heresy,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “But I need time. We haven’t even been on a proper date. I’m too young to get hitched before that.”
He smiled, a real smile this time. “Alright. How about we fix that? Let’s go out when you feel better. Just you and me.”
I bit my lip, the idea of a normal date with Heresy thrilling. “Yeah... okay. Let’s do it.”
He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before pulling me closer. “We’ll figure it out, witchy. No matter what happens with the clubs. I’m not letting you go.”