Page 163 of Endless Anger
Alive.
Battered and bruised, butalive.
Pushing off from the wall, I propel myself inside, sprinting before the crouching man can turn or fully register my presence. He’s leaned in, speaking to her in soft tones, and I want to rip his spine out with my teeth.
Instead, I tackle him, driving my knee into his back as his face slams onto the ground. Grabbing his hair, I bring his head up and repeat the motion, not stopping when blood sprays where the impact busts his nose wide open. Same as I did before leaving Dean Bauer hours earlier.
The blood gets on my fingers, splashing onto my face and neck, and he’s totally unconscious by the time I feel a hand on my shoulder.
I spin around, pushing Alistair off me, and face Lucy.
For several seconds, we just stare at each other on our knees, struck completely silent.
“You came for me?” she whispers.
Her voice makes me lightheaded. “Of fucking course I did, baby.”
She brings her free arm up gently—so fucking gently—touching my face with swollen fingers, like she can’t believe I’m really here.
Her blue eyes are tinged red and wet. She’s been crying—no,sobbingmore likely.
My chest pinches, and I itch to continue beating Beckett Dupont. I’m trembling with the need to make him hurt, but then she scoots forward and launches herself into my arms.
When she buries her face in my neck, she unleashes a torrent of tears, soaking my skin in a downpour. Her wailing echoes in the cavern, ricocheting off the walls and piercing me in the heart.
She clings to me, her breath hot on my throat. “Foxe—they t-took him. I–I don’t know where… I don’t know w-what they did, but I don’t think…”
A tear slips over my cheek. “I know, baby. I know.” I make eye contact with her father, whose eyes are red now too. “I’m so, so fucking sorry.”
46
ASHER
Dad eventually makeshis way to where we are, stretching his arms over his head, since the ceiling is much higher here than anywhere else.
He glances around the cavern as he stands beside me, both of us giving Lucy and Alistair a private moment to collect themselves. She’s wrapped in her dad’s arms, and right now, I can’t watch.
Not knowing Grayson and Violet won’t get that with Foxe again.
Dad clears his throat. “What I said earlier?—”
“It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“Oh no, I did mean it.”
He turns to me, and I take a second to appreciate the heart-to-hearts happening in here while a corpse casually rots and the corpse-to-be continues to lie unconscious mere feet away. Frankly, I would expect nothing less from us.
“I hold you to a high standard because I know you’re capable of attaining it,” he says. “For a long time, I was afraid of you, beingmyson. I didn’t want you to be like me, and you are in so many ways. But I’m okay with that. I’ve made my peace with it because you’re a better version of me. By a million miles. Sometimes, it just seems like you get stuck on your negative emotions, and they end up ruling when you should bemaking better decisions. I try not to interfere unless you ask, but when it comes to protecting the people you love, that isn’t something to skimp on. Ever. I’m sorry if that feels unfair or if I haven’t been the best role model for it, butthatis the Anderson curse. Taking care of the people who make your life better.”
He used to be so quiet, always observing and reserving his thoughts for when he was asked for them. I grew up watching that and internalizing it, learning that sometimes words weren’t necessary. Action seemed better, and I loved my fists most.
They got results.
But I’ve always sort of resented the savior complex he seemed to have. No matter what, day or night, if someone he loved had a problem, he was there for them. Which meant there were a dozen or more people on the planet who took attention away from me.
Stupid, really. Selfish too. He never neglected me, yet I hated that he helped others, like it somehow meant he loved me less.
But he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t love me. I know that much.
