Chapter 15
ARCHIE
I’m still completely shaken by the sight of Denver walking through my front door, face covered in blood, throat a myriad of purple and black bruising. The message Percy left for me before he got Denver to the house had me in a murderous rage.
Now that I know he’s safe, I feel something else. Animalistic. Feral. More dangerous than I’ve ever been. I’ve maimed and killed before on the orders of my father and my brother. That had been a simple act of obedience.
I have never wanted to draw blood and pain the way I want to now, knowing that someone touched Denver and I wasn’t there to stop them.
I hate the fact that I didn’t take this fucker out that first night in the alley. It’s not like me to let someone get away like that. When it was Nico, I didn’t stop until the man was no longer breathing, but with Denver, I’d been distracted.
He’d looked so pretty out there under the dim, yellow lamplight. His eyes were wide, and he wasn’t staring at me with fear or disgust. He was looking at me like I was someone. Like I was worthy to stand in front of him and gently wipe the blood from his face.
And in that distraction, I let the man go, and now he’s hurt again.
Percy did his job last night, of course. When Denver called, he went running, and for that, I will love my brother even more.
But I can taste revenge, coppery and sweet, on the sides of my tongue. And I will have it.
Denver’s in the shower, getting ready so we can go to his place. He finally agreed to skip his classes today, and he let me help him send a message to his colleague since his eyes were still too unfocused to use screens.
He hasn’t agreed to live with me, and I wasn’t sure if it was miscommunication—like maybe I was using the wrong sign. But he’s agreed to stay for now. And until there’s a body burned or buried nine feet beneath the ground, he won’t be leaving my sight.
And after, I will figure out a way to make him understand that he is mine and that I don’t want him going anywhere. I don’t care if it’s weird. I don’t care if that’s not how things are usually done. Denver is perfect, and I will never let anyone else touch him.
Ever again.
While Denver’s finishing up getting washed, I find Percy in his workshop, carving intricate swirls on the leg of the chair he’s been making. He looks up when I enter and lifts a brow at me. “You’d better not be here to bitch at me about last night.”
I can’t seem to unstick my tongue for the moment, so I walk over and yank him to his feet, wrapping my arms tightly around him. He’s always been shorter than me, but he’s always made me feel small and safe.
He’s strong, and his arms go limp for a second before winding around me and holding me tight, the way I like to be hugged.
“Thank you,” I rasp against the side of his head.
He takes a step back and gives my neck a firm pat before letting me go. “He’s different, isn’t he?”
“Like Nico,” I say. “But not the same as him either.”
Percy laughs and sits back down to pick up his gouge, though he leaves the leg on the table. “Milo and I kind of figured.” His face turns serious. “Do you think he’ll be able to handle us?”
Normally, I struggle if people don’t paint a broader picture with their words and say exactly what they mean, but in this case, I know exactly what “us” means. Our family. Who we are.
What we have done.
And what we might do, even after we leave the business.
I don’t really know the answer, but I know what my gut says. “Yes. I will tell him soon.”
Percy snorts. “I think he kind of figured it out.” He taps the gouge on the table, then looks up at me again. “You can’t tell him about the job though.”
That’s a little annoying and patronizing because I know that. I know how all of this works. I barely know the details, and I’m not about to share those and ruin our harmony.
But if he finds out, because he might—Denver is clever—I don’t think he’ll run.
“He’s staying with us,” I tell Percy.
He tilts his head to the side and gives a little nod. “I assumed.”
“We need to figure out who’s after him.”
Percy sets his tool down and rocks back in his chair, looking at me.
“There’s something Denver isn’t telling you about this situation.
He was scared shitless, but not as shitless as he should have been.
Find out what he knows and get back to me.
I’ll give Matias a call after and see what he can come up with. ”
My brows shoot up. We’ve known Matias most of our lives. He’s the son of my dad’s best friend, who got into law enforcement so our families had another man on the inside. He works in tech for the FBI, and we don’t call him often. But I appreciate that Percy is willing to take it this far.
“I want him to stay safe,” I say. “He’s mine.”
Percy meets my gaze and doesn’t look away, even after I do. “We won’t let anything happen to him again.”
I’m not surprised that Denver’s quiet on the drive to his place. He sits in the car beside me, eyes closed, breathing steadily. He’s got one hand in mine, his fingers drawing lines on the insides of my own, and the comfort of it is…
There aren’t really words to describe it. All I know is that I’m addicted, and I can’t let him go.
I will not let him go.
He has become something I’m hyperfocused on. Much like my obsession with death and graveyards. But this is deeper, more profound. It makes something swell up inside of me, all-consuming and so comforting. I don’t know how to explain it, but the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew he was different.
I knew he was mine. And I plan to keep it that way.
The GPS directs me to his place, and he doesn’t open his eyes when I pull into a parking spot and turn the car off. I give him a moment before reaching over and stroking a touch down his jaw.
His eyes open slowly, and he blinks, his movements a bit sluggish, like he’d been deep asleep. His nystagmus is pretty much gone though, so I think the last of his dizziness has faded. His gaze meets mine and holds it, and I allow it for as long as I can stand.
When I have to stop, I fixate on his lips instead.
‘Do you want me to go in for you? You can text me a list,’ I offer.
He snorts a laugh, which comes out a ragged, soft wheeze from his throat damage. It creates a fresh wave of anger that I hope is not showing on my face.
‘No. My apartment doesn’t scare me. This just feels like…’ His hands hover for a second. ‘A lot.’
I can’t really relate. My life has been chaos from the moment I was really aware of what living was. There were peaceful moments but rarely any actual peace, which is what Percy is trying to create for us now.
And I want that, but I can also handle this. I can handle more so Denver doesn’t have to feel so much.
‘Come.’ I get out and walk around, helping him out of the car.
I know he doesn’t need it, but I’m craving him, so keeping him close feels important.
He wraps his fingers through mine and pulls me along to his place on the first floor, the door tucked in a little corner of the building.
It’s very nice, cooled by shady trees, and there are flowers planted somewhere because I can smell them on the breeze.
Denver digs his keys out of his pocket, but when he tries to shove the key into the dead bolt, the door swings open.
My hackles are up, and I grab him, shoving him behind me as I reach into my inside coat pocket and touch the handle of my knife. Adrenaline shoots up my spine as I kick the door open all the way and step just past the threshold.
“Oh my god,” I hear Denver whisper.
The place is trashed. I know Denver doesn’t live like this, and as I peer around the corner into the living room, I can see his couch cushions are shredded, the stuffing all over the floor like someone ripped it all out.
It’s an amateur job. Whoever did this tried to make it look like he was being robbed—like they were looking for something—but I can tell this is just ordered chaos. This is an attempt to throw off the cops because they assumed Denver would call them.
I feel his hand on my back, his fingers trembling, and I turn to face him. ‘I don’t think anyone’s here, but I want to check first.’ I couldn’t hear movement, but I’m not letting him wander around without being certain.
He swallows thickly, then steps past me and sucks in a breath so sharp he starts to cough. I can see the pain in his face as he grips the wall, and I quickly take him by the chin, guiding his breath so he calms down.
‘Better?’
He shakes his head, but I know he means the shock of it all.
Reaching into my back pocket for my larger folding knife, I press it into his hand. ‘Wait here,’ I tell him. ‘Hurt anyone who gets close to you.’
He pales but nods as he curls his fingers around the weapon. He looks good like that, wearing my clothes and holding my knife. If these were different circumstances, I would pin him to the wall and fuck him just like this.
But there’s time for that later.
Taking a deep breath, I push away from him and do a quick search of all the rooms. Luckily, there are only two bedrooms with a single bathroom off his, and not a lot of closet space, which means there aren’t many places for this fucker to hide.
No one is under either of the beds, and the linen closet is all but empty, so by the time I make it to the kitchen, I let myself relax as much as I’m able, considering the circumstances. I don’t know if anything’s been taken, but I’m not sure we’ll get the chance to find out right now.
Denver’s in the living room with his back pressed to the wall, his eyes a little dazed.
He’s definitely in some kind of shock again, and that leaves me freshly pissed off at the person doing this.
But he’s also steady on his feet, which means my brother’s probably right.
There’s more to this story than he’s told me so far.
‘No one here.’
His shoulders relax a fraction. ‘Okay.’ I’m tempted to ask now what’s going on, but I think he’ll be more open if I bring it up once we’re home. ‘Look around. Was anything taken?’