Vengeance
Everything hurt. The pain came in waves, crashing through his side every time he breathed. That was good, though, because pain meant he was still alive. He'd take pain over the alternative any day.
The scent of pine filled his lungs, mixed with blood and damp earth.
Somewhere nearby, an owl called into the darkness, oblivious to the fact that half the southeast's most dangerous criminals were hunting two people beneath an abandoned railroad bridge.
He shifted an inch, and white-hot agony ripped through his ribs.
"Don't move.” Chloe's voice was soft but firm. "You'll open your wound back up." He looked over at her. She'd cleaned most of the blood from her hands in the creek, but dried crimson still stained the cuffs of her hoodie. She hadn't left him, even after finding out exactly who he was.
"You should've gone when you had the chance," he rasped.
She didn't even look up from where she was checking the bandage. "You've said that three times now."
"I'll probably say it again,” he warned.
"I know." A faint smile tugged at his mouth. She was stubborn, and Vengeance knew that Savage would've loved that. His chest tightened at the thought.
"You know—" he said quietly. "I almost didn't make it to Huntsville to warn you and the Royal Bastards about the Black Veil Syndicate."
That got her attention. "What do you mean?"
"I almost turned around before I even got to town."
She frowned. "Why?"
"Because I knew what would happen if you found out my name." Silence settled between them. "I wasn't afraid of Dante finding me." He swallowed hard. "I was afraid of you looking at me the way you did tonight."
She looked at the ground. "I'm sorry."
"No." He shook his head carefully. "You had every right."
"I still shouldn't have?—"
"You thought I'd lied about everything,” he said, interrupting her.
"You did lie,” she reminded.
"I omitted the truth."
She raised one eyebrow. "Seriously?"
He sighed. "Okay, I lied."
"Thank you for admitting that." She sat back against a fallen tree. "I don't know what I'm supposed to feel."
"You don't have to figure it out tonight,” he said.
"I keep remembering—" She stared into the darkness. "You throwing yourself in front of me back at the clubhouse and then again when Lucius shot you."
He shrugged—as much as someone with a bullet wound could shrug. "It wasn't a big deal."
She looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "You got shot."
"I've been shot before,” he admitted.
Her eyes widened. "What?"
He realized too late what he'd admitted. "Damn."
"How many times have you been shot?” she asked.
He rubbed a hand across his face. "Four times."
"Four?" she shouted.
"Well, five now,” he said.
She stared. "That's not normal."
"No, it isn't."
"You just keep getting shot?" she asked.
He chuckled, then immediately regretted it. "I've made some poor career choices." That earned him the smallest laugh. It lasted barely a second, but still, he'd take it. The sound disappeared as quickly as it came.
"I keep thinking about what Lucius said,” she whispered.
His muscles tensed. "You don't need to worry about him,” he said.
"But I am worried.” She looked straight at him. "He said you're Dante's only son."
"I am,” Vengeance said.
"So—” She hesitated. "Why are you still alive?"
He blinked. "What?"
"If Dante's as evil as everyone says, why didn’t he kill you?” she asked.
He looked toward the stars. "I asked myself that for years, and I finally figured it out."
"You figured what out?” she asked.
"I wasn't really his son." He laughed bitterly.
"I was his project." The words hung heavily between them.
"He wanted an heir—someone exactly like him.
" His jaw clenched. "When I was fifteen—” He stopped talking, and he could feel his heart racing because he had never told anyone this—not even Doc or his Prez.
Nobody knew. Chloe waited him out, but she didn't push him. She just waited for him to continue.
"When I was fifteen—” His voice came out rough. "Dante took me on my first trafficking run." Chloe went still beside him. "He said it was time for me to learn the family business.
Vengeance closed his eyes. "There was a girl." His hands curled into fists. "She couldn't have been more than sixteen." He could still see the girl’s face and hear her screaming. "I was supposed to load her into the truck." His stomach churned. "But I couldn't."
"What happened?" Chloe asked.
"Dante handed me a gun and told me if I wasn't strong enough to move her—” His voice cracked. "I needed to be strong enough to kill her."
Chloe's hand slowly found his, and he froze.
"I refused." Her fingers tightened around his.
"He and his men beat me unconscious." She inhaled sharply.
"When I woke up, the girl was gone.” His eyes filled despite every effort to stop it from happening.
He'd never known her name and never found out what happened to her.
He'd searched for years but found nothing.
"That was the day I stopped being his son."
Chloe's thumb gently brushed across his knuckles. "And you started running,” Chloe said.
He nodded. "I stole money from him, burned one of his warehouses, and disappeared for almost ten years."
She was quiet for a long time before she whispered, "You've been fighting him ever since."
"Every chance I get,” he admitted.
She squeezed his hand again. "I'm glad you left,” she said.
He frowned. "Why?"
"Because if you hadn't walked away from him, I would've never met the man lying here." Emotion lodged in his throat. What she had just said to him meant more than she probably realized.
Headlights suddenly flashed through the trees, and Vengeance's body instantly tensed. His hand reached for his pistol and found an empty holster. He suddenly remembered dropping his gun during the firefight.
Chloe looked toward the road. "Is that Doc?" he asked.
"I hope so,” he said. The truck slowed as it approached the bridge. The headlights flashed once and then twice more, followed by three more times, and Vengeance finally relaxed.
"Is that some kind of signal?”
He nodded. "Yeah, he came up with it when he needed to meet me out on the road. It was to let me know that he was alone and it was safe to come out of hiding.” The pickup rolled beneath the bridge before stopping, and an older man climbed out.
He was tall and lean with a gray beard. He already had his medical bag in his hand.
His sharp blue eyes immediately landed on Vengeance.
"Well, you look like hell,” the man sighed.
Vengeance grinned weakly. "I've looked worse."
"Bullshit.” Doc Mercer knelt beside him, carefully peeling back the makeshift bandage, and his expression darkened. "You lost a lot of blood."
"I noticed,” Vengeance grumbled.
Doc reached into his bag for fresh gauze, and then he looked at Chloe. "So, this is the girl?” His eyes moved between the two of them.
Chloe nodded cautiously. "I'm Chloe."
Doc smiled kindly. "I know exactly who you are."
She frowned. "You do?"
"I've been expecting you for years,” Doc said.
Vengeance's heart sank. "Doc.”
The older man ignored him and looked directly at Chloe. "Did Vengeance ever tell you who Savage called the night he saved him?” He began removing a blood-soaked dressing.
Vengeance's eyes widened. "Doc, don't." But it was already too late.
Doc smiled sadly. "I was there." The past Vengeance had spent years trying to outrun had just caught up with him once again.
"Doc—” The warning came out hoarse. Doc Mercer didn't even glance his way as he peeled back the blood-soaked bandage covering Vengeance's side.
"You've always hated the truth coming out,” Doc insisted.
"I don't hate the truth,” Vengeance grumbled. “I just hate talking about the past—there’s a difference."
Doc snorted. "There’s no difference."
Chloe stood a few feet away, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she watched the exchange.
The confusion on her face was obvious. She'd spent the last several hours finding out that almost everything she'd believed about Vengeance had another layer beneath it.
Now, she was about to find out there was another one.
Doc carefully cleaned the wound. "You were lucky."
"I don't believe in luck,” Vengeance said
"I know." He glanced up. "But I do believe that bullet missed your spleen by less than an inch."
Vengeance closed his eyes. "I'll take that."
"You'll take antibiotics,” Doc ordered.
"I hate antibiotics,” he grumbled.
"You hate being alive?" Doc asked
"I didn't say that."
Doc shook his head. "Still stubborn."
"It keeps me breathing,” Vengeance said.
"It also keeps getting you shot." Chloe surprised him by laughing. It was soft, but real. Both men looked at her.
"You make it sound normal that he keeps getting shot.” She looked at Vengeance.
The smile faded from Doc's face. "Normal's something he hasn't had much of." Doc reached into his medical bag and pulled out a curved needle. "This is going to hurt."
"I assumed,” Vengeance grumbled.
“Sorry, but I don’t have any anesthesia,” Doc said.
"I figured,” he said.
Chloe stepped closer. "What can I do?"
Doc looked at her. "Hold the flashlight." She nodded as she knelt beside Vengeance; the beam illuminated the ugly wound in his side.
She visibly paled. "That's?—”
"Worse than it looks?" Vengeance offered.
"No,” she breathed. Her eyes stayed fixed on the injury.
"It’s exactly as bad as it looks." He chuckled and immediately regretted it.
Doc didn't wait—the first stitch went in, and every muscle in his body tensed as pain exploded through his side.
He refused to make a sound as Doc put in the second and third stitches.
Sweat poured down his forehead, and Chloe seemed to notice.
Without saying a word, she grabbed a clean cloth from Doc's bag and wiped it away, and the simple gesture nearly undid him because nobody had taken care of him in a very long time.
Doc noticed too. "Hmm."
"What?" Chloe asked.
"Nothing."