Chapter 22 #3
He pressed into my back with his thumbs, avoiding the thickest scars. “Does that feel good or bad?”
“Mostly good.”
“Tell me if it hurts.”
He rubbed my sore muscles, avoiding the thick scars, and I groaned.
“Tomorrow I’ll ask Zeke if he has any dried herbs or flowers to make a salve,” I mumbled.
“I’m sure he’ll have somethin’ you can use.” He pulled me against him again. “Did that help at all?”
I settled into his embrace. My back still ached, but it seemed looser. “I think it did. Thank you.”
Between the comfort of his body and the warmth of the water, my eyelids grew heavy. His fingertips brushed across my bare skin.
“Will you tell me about this?” Trey asked, tracing the brand on my chest. I stiffened, and he added, “You don’t have to, darlin’.”
I didn’t want to, but I doubted I’d ever want to talk about that day. I steadied myself, breathing deeply. In the silence, the wind gusted against the house.
Finally, I said, “The only people who knew what I could do were Juck, Vulture, and a man named Grip. After Grip died, Vulture started wantin’ more—more power, more control.
Normally, Juck would’ve shut that shit down right away, but he couldn’t, ’cause Vulture knew my secret and he wasn’t afraid of threatening to reveal it.
It started gettin’ real tense between the two.
Juck tried to get him killed a couple of times, but Vulture survived.
So Vulture got real friendly with the gang.
He was good at that—bein’ charismatic and charming to get what he wanted.
It reached a point where Juck knew if he killed him, the gang might revolt. And I—”
Air rushed into my chest, unsteady and loud. Trey held me tighter, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.
“Vulture wasn’t a good person, but he’d been less cruel to me than Juck.
So I figured if I was gonna pick a side, I’d rather it be his.
So I started sneaking out to see him.” My eyes burned, ashamed to admit the next part.
“I did the same thing as before…with Rally, that boy I ran away with. I told Vulture whatever he wanted to hear and did whatever he wanted to do. But Juck caught us together one night.” I trembled, remembering the panic and terror of that moment.
“He dragged us out of Vulture’s tent. He was so fuckin’ angry, I thought he was gonna kill both of us.
Instead, he had his men hold me down while he got some metal fencing and bent it into a J.
He put it in the fire until it was red-hot, and then he made Vulture watch while he burned it into my chest so no one would ever forget that I belonged only to him. ”
“Gods, Bones.” Trey sounded stricken.
“I passed out from the pain,” I said numbly.
“While I was out, he beat Vulture nearly to death. I don’t know why he didn’t kill him.
Maybe he thought I loved Vulture so he could use him to control me, or maybe it was the other way around, I dunno.
I woke up in so much pain, and he drugged me even though I was beggin’ him not to.
And, well, you know what happened next.”
“How much time passed between that night and when the revolt happened?” Trey asked quietly.
“Four days.”
“So then Vulture told everyone about your powers and they all started fighting each other?” When I nodded, he continued.
“And then Juck shot Vulture and tried to get away and that’s when you stabbed him?
” I nodded again, trying not to remember the blood coating my hands. “Was Vulture conscious when you left?”
“Yeah. He watched me kill Juck. He thought I did it to help him win. When he realized I was leaving him to die—” I could see the rage and betrayal on his face as if it’d happened yesterday.
My relationship with Vulture had always been complicated, and I hated how much guilt still lingered.
“If he’s alive, he’s someone we don’t want to run into. ”
“He’s someone who doesn’t want to run into me,” Trey said.
“I’d prefer to never see him again,” I said faintly.
“Well, the good news is, last we heard, the few Reapers left were heading south. Hopefully for good. If he’s still alive, he probably went with ’em.” He pressed a kiss to my temple, then lingered there, speaking low and soft in my ear. “Thank you for tellin’ me.”
We sat in silence for a while, soaking in the warm water.
The sick feeling in my stomach from talking about that awful day began to fade, leaving me wrung out and shaky.
My head rested back against Trey’s shoulder, and his arms held me against his chest. I counted the steady beat of his heart until my own slowed to match it.
“We should try to get some sleep,” he eventually said, and I agreed.
Entwined together in the bed, he ran his fingers through my damp hair. Every time I expected my body to tense, it didn’t. I kept waiting for the moment to break, for the safety to vanish, but it held.
I’d never experienced this kind of closeness. It still scared me, but it felt…it felt like healing, as though Trey had his own kind of power that flowed through me, piecing together all the broken parts of my soul.