Chapter 5 #2
I stared at the two of them for a moment before giving up. “Broth is the best,” I muttered.
“We can do that,” Trey said.
“Yep. Gimme a few minutes,” Sam said, slipping out the door.
I didn’t miss the warning look he gave Trey before he left, though. Trey scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Sorry I pushed you to eat too much,” he said.
My thoughts tumbled over each other. As horrible as being with Juck had been, at least I knew what to expect from him and the Reapers. I hated feeling so off-balance here, hated the unpredictability.
Trey began to say something else, but the door burst open, startling us. Two giant men stumbled in, bleeding everywhere and shouting drunkenly about it. I started moving, relieved at the familiarity of snarling at them to shut the fuck up and sit. I knew how to do this.
I didn’t care for the details, but they wanted to tell me the whole story.
A knife fight with a couple rusters, whatever that meant, broke out at a place called Mootzie’s.
The men looked like they did some sort of hard labor, judging by their bulky muscles and numerous scars.
The first one stood taller, with thick stubble on his face and a tattoo near his left eye.
He’d taken a knife to the side, but the gash wasn’t too deep.
The other had a large, bushy beard and tattooed sleeves on his muscled arms. He’d grabbed a blade with his bare hand and nearly sliced his fucking fingers off.
I told the one with the gash on his side to put pressure on it while I dealt with his buddy’s hand.
It was a mess of sliced muscles and tendons, and blood and dirt were everywhere.
I grasped his hand, and they finally quieted as the warmth spread into his wound.
When I finished, they stared open-mouthed.
The man opened and closed his fist. If I hadn’t had my powers, he would have lost at least one finger, but instead, a long scar spanned his entire hand.
“Fucking hell,” he slurred. “Blaze, look at this.”
They peered at his hand and then up at me, their eyes wide.
“Fuck,” Blaze agreed.
“Get off my chair so I can take care of your friend,” I said.
“I’d let you take care of me any day,” he said, leaning forward and giving me a grin. “You wanna get a drink with me?”
“No,” I snapped. “Now get off.”
His attention dropped to my mouth. “I could get off—” he started with a leer, but Trey cleared his throat. “Alright, alright, Mason.” He slid off the chair, but before I could move, he grabbed my hand. “Name’s Zip. If you change your mind about that drink, lemme know.”
I jerked free, turning to Blaze. “Alright, you’re next.”
Blaze’s shallow wound only needed a few stitches, but he wasn’t too pleased that he had to deal with a needle.
As I gathered my supplies, I quietly asked Trey for a narc.
He paused, looking confused, but he unlocked the safe and handed me one anyway.
I prepped it and tucked it in the band of my pants where I could reach it fast.
“Why don’t I get the magic?” Blaze complained, eyeing the small needle in my hands.
“Because this is barely anything,” I replied, trying to move his arm out of the way. “Stop being such a baby.”
“Fuck that!” Blaze bellowed, taking a swing at my head.
I ducked, grabbing the narc and stabbing it into his meaty thigh with more force than necessary.
He blinked down at it, his string of curses slurring as the drug hit him.
When he toppled back into the chair with a heavy thud, I let out my breath.
Trey had halted an arm’s length away from me.
I glared at Zip, who stood next to the table, watching. He raised his hands and backed away.
“Do what you gotta do,” he said.
They stayed silent as I stitched the wound closed with steady hands. After I got him bandaged, Zip lifted his unconscious buddy over his shoulder.
“Hope I see ya around, Bones,” he said with a wink.
I didn’t answer, instead turning to wash my hands in the ice-cold water.
“Why didn’t you use magic?” Trey asked when we were alone.
“I figured I should save it for emergencies.” Exhaustion crept into my bones. I’d never reached my limit before when I only healed Juck and sometimes Grip and Vulture. I didn’t even know I had a limit. Now I did, and it’d be stupid not to conserve my power.
“Like when some idiot gets shot in the gut on a rooftop?”
I looked over at him as I shut off the water. He grinned at me, leaning on the table, his expression so open I could practically hear his invitation to tease him back. C’mon, play with me.
My heart clenched. I studiously started disinfecting my tools with a bottle of alcohol.
“Why’d he call you Mason?” I asked.
“That’s my surname,” he answered.
“What’s a ruster?”
“People who live in the slums.”
The door opened again, and Sam entered with a steaming tin mug.
“Here you go, Shortcake. Wasn’t sure how much broth you wanted. I can get more if you want.”
Shortcake. Well, the Reapers had called me much worse.
“Here, I’ll finish cleaning up.” Trey moved next to me, reaching for the tools in my hand.
Feeling uncomfortable, I sipped the broth while Trey told Sam what happened. When he got to the part where Blaze took a swing at me, Sam glowered.
“Sorry I wasn’t here to help,” he said.
“She didn’t need any help,” Trey cut in. “She was prepped with a narc and knocked him out as soon as he tried to hit her.”
Sam broke into a wide grin. “Atta girl.”
I stared at them over the mug. Why were they being nice? None of this made any sense. I hated feeling on edge, trying to figure it out.
“What do you want?” I asked sharply. “You think I’m gonna suck you off for this or something?”
They both looked at me with matching startled expressions.
“Gods, what?” Sam asked.
“What? No!” Trey said at the same time.
“I mean, not unless you want to,” Sam added with a smirk that vanished with a grunt when Trey elbowed him.
A part of me relaxed, but the anger remained. “Why are you doing this, then? What the fuck do you want?”
“Doing what?” Sam asked, rubbing his side and glaring at Trey.
“All of this!” I shook the half-empty mug at them.
Sam glanced between my face and the mug, but pity filled Trey’s face. It only made me angrier.
“Don’t,” I snapped before he could say anything. “I don’t need your help.”
“We know,” Trey said, his gaze gentle. “Just ’cause you don’t need help doesn’t mean you gotta do everything by yourself.”
“You’re part of our crew now,” Sam said.
My fingers clenched around the mug in my hand as I stared at them.
“We take care of our own,” he added, like I was the stupid one.
“I got one of your crew killed.”
“You didn’t kill Exo,” Trey said, even as sadness tightened his eyes. “Exo disobeyed orders.”
“Yeah, that’s not on you.” The pain in Sam’s voice was clear, but he seemed to force a smile. “I mean, would I have preferred to avoid a fuckin’ nighttime rooftop chase where I nearly fell through that damn tin roof and lost my favorite knife? Yes.”
“All I know is you sure as hell didn’t have to save my life, but you did it anyway.” Trey’s face was still serious.
Sam crossed his arms. “And all I know is you’re one of us now. So you can quit the lone wolf bullshit.”
I stared at them, clutching the mug. “There’s no way you all feel like that.”
Mac’s and Lana’s angry faces flashed through my head. I hadn’t seen Lana since we’d arrived at the hold, and I dreaded the next time we’d run into each other.
They looked uncomfortable for the first time.
“Well, no,” Trey admitted. “But everyone is loyal to Mac. They’ll follow orders even if they don’t like it.”
I doubted that, but I didn’t argue. I couldn’t afford to believe it, no matter how good it sounded.
Don’t let your guard down, Wolf agreed.
I sipped my broth and watched them argue over how to organize my tools. It wasn’t long afterward that Griz came to take over. Trey and Sam cheerfully told me good night and Griz took up his spot outside the door. The sudden silence didn’t feel quite as welcome as I thought it would.
I scowled at myself. Get it the fuck together.
I climbed the ladder and, with effort, managed to pull it up into the loft with me.
I straightened, panting but relieved. I toed off my boots and climbed under the blankets on my bed.
The lumpy mattress was the most comfortable thing I’d slept on in a long time.
The blankets smelled clean, like soap. I had an entire house all to myself.
After twelve years of sleeping in tents, this felt almost luxurious.
There was no sand in the bed or my hair, no danger of the wind whipping a tent pole out of the ground, and no other person whose presence was a constant threat.
I didn’t have to fall asleep terrified of what Juck might do in the middle of the night.
It was so close to what I’d pretended not to want for twelve years. It was so close to an actual home.
C’mon, you’re smarter than that, Wolf warned.
I know. I know.
—
Madame summoned me again two days later.
I’d spent the past couple of days healing a few walk-ins and organizing the clinic.
Most people only needed a few stitches or some medicine.
I could tell the population here had grown used to patching themselves up the past couple months and that most continued to do so despite having a healer again.
I didn’t blame them for not trusting me.
I used my downtime to sort through the previous healer’s supplies.
Sam brought me broth for every meal, and my stomach slowly adjusted.
Griz and Sam were inside the clinic talking to each other as I tried hard to ignore them.
They acted more like brothers than crewmates, constantly joking with each other.
And gods, they were loud. When the door opened, I turned, and my heart sank at the sight of Mac.
I hadn’t seen him since Madame’s interrogation.
“Madame wants you,” he said, confirming my fears.