Page 20 of Crow

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come back here now, and that hurts my heart. It’s more than nerves shredding me apart now, but I have to push them away. I can’t break down right now on the front lawn. I won’t.

Crow steers me out to the street, and it becomes clear, when I see the jacked up pickup truck, why I didn’t hear a bike rumble up.

One of the brothers gets behind the wheel, the other in the passenger seat. It’s a four door truck, which leaves the back for us.

Crow helps me in and shuts my door. I don’t have time to process the heat of him, my own avenging dark angel, leaving me. I’m rapidly numbing out, probably going to real shock, which is a legit trauma response.

The other door opens, my bags are set neatly into the middle. Crow takes the other spot. The truck doesn’t peel away like it would from the scene of a crime. It’s almost obscene how slowly and calmly, it rejoins traffic.

I don’t know here we’re going.

I don’t know what the next few hours hold for me.

I steal a glance at Crow, as if I might find answers there, but he looks all wrong. Still wild. Eyes dilated, blazing, and unfocused. He’s breathing like he’s on the homestretch of a marathon.

We haven’t made it two minutes down the road before he punches the headrest in front of him so hard that I nearly tear out of my skin.

“Pull over,” he commands, frenzied. “Now!”

Chapter 7

Crow

Leave me the fuck alone, Crow!

I need to push this fucker out. As soon as we both caught sight of Tarynn’s dad assaulting her, Raven tore the fuck out of me. He shoved me to the background, and I became the one floating in the dark background, while he thrust his way into the driver’s seat of our body.Assfuck, get the fuck out! I didn’t give you permission to do or say any of that shit!

Since when do I ask for permission? You’re just usually too good at resisting to let me out. Not this time, sweetheart. I think you might be losing your touch. Or is it just when you lose your shit that you’re vulnerable to letting me shove you out and takeover? Good to know.

I swear, Raven, if you don’t get out of my head this second, you’re fucking dead.

Get out? You know I can’t do that. Give over, you mean. Let you back in control? That’s so boring. Didn’t you see how I made her father almost piss his pants? No one touches her.

No one touches her.

At least, we’re in agreement on that.

A moment of quiet fills the inner turmoil slamming around in my skull.

I’m fighting to get back in control and Raven is fighting not to let me.

Our body may look perfectly placid from the exterior, but on the inside, it’s like a bloody battle. Imagine two men rolling around in the dirt, punching the shit out of each other until one of them has to surrender or get knocked the fuck out.

It’s not truly like that, but it feels pretty much the same way.

By the time I’m finally able to wrestle and shove Raven to the back and crash back into my body and brain, I know what’s going to happen. The battle likely only lasted a minute or maybe two, but it was savage and it’s going to take its toll. My insides feel pummeled, and the gore has to go somewhere.

It’s the same, every single time. It makes sense, given that head wounds tend to cause trauma throughout the whole body.

My muscles lock up as my temples throb, the migraine setting in so sharp and brilliant that it feels like glass has been wedged into my eyeballs. My stomach is a riot and this time, there’s no controlling it.

I slam my fist into the headrest again, demanding that Grave pull the fuck over.

Something in my tone must warn him that I’m serious, because he does it pretty much immediately. We’re on a residential street. It’s quaint, lined with a thick canopy of trees. The houses are all older bungalows and split levels. I paid attention while we drove here, every detail seared into my brain, but it’s nothing but a blur now.

I throw open the door and can’t get out of the truck in time before my stomach erupts. I haven’t had anything but watersince dinner yesterday. My face was throbbing, thanks to the fact that I refused the freezing and painkillers Archer tried to give me when he stitched me up at his clinic, so that pretty much took care of my appetite.

It’s worse having almost nothing to spew. It makes me strain and heave until my eyes water and sweat pours down my face in rivulets. Every part of me is unsettled after that inner rebellion. My stomach is like Raven. It’s not going to calm down without a fight.

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