Page 81 of Revenge Saints
“Thank God,” Aspen whimpers, picking up her pace toward the house.
We go through the back door; Knox nailed the front shut.
“Easier to control,” he said.
She strides inside. It’s empty. I catch the flicker of sadness in her eyes.
“The guys won’t be here until tomorrow. They’ll travel at night; it’s safer.” I tell her.
She just nods.
The last contact I had was over the radio, right after I got Aspen to tell them about Bryn. The plan was for us to head here while the guys hit the town for rest and supplies. Rest during the day, move again at night.
It kills me not to be with them, but someone had to find her, and it had to be me.
She did her best to cover her tracks. Every step, every turn, like she knew we’d come looking.
I’m not saying a word about that to Knox. He’s already pissed as fuck. No idea what he’ll do if he finds out she tried to make it harder for us.
I glance over at Aspen. She looks wrecked, exhausted, and bruised. Her face is swollen on one side from where that bastard hit her.
“Sit on the couch,” I say.
She hesitates, eyes narrow, ready to argue, but I raise an eyebrow and point at it.
“Now, Aspen.”
She exhales hard but drops onto the couch.
I head to the kitchen, grab a cloth, wet it, wring it out, and walk back.
“Put this on your face. It’s not ice, but it’ll help.”
She takes it and rests it on her cheek. Her soft skin’s already bruising, purples blooming beneath her eye. She looks tired.
“You should get some sleep.”
Aspen nods, gets up, and walks slowly toward the bedroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
I let out a breath. Another fucked-up day, but at least we’ve got Dante back.
We’re almost together, our little, fucked-up family.
I pull my shirt over my head, unfasten the top button of my jeans, and lean back, legs spread, muscles burning from the miles we walked and the running I did to find Aspen before something went wrong. But our little fighter held her own.
She killed a bastard twice her size and came out of it with just a bruise.
Didn’t expect that, but it fits her.
My eyes grow heavy. I let them close for a second; I just need a little rest.
Gun in my lap, safety off. Just in case.
Don’t know how long I’m out before I hear footsteps.
My eyes snap open. I raise the gun toward the sound.
Only to see Aspen in nothing but one of Knox’s shirts, hands lifted, smirking.
