Page 37 of Awry
Doc straightens, holding her hand out to Presh.My sister takes it, standing and looking as if she does actually need Doc’s help to stay steady on her feet.
I finally allow myself one moment of indulgence, stepping over and scooping Presh up in my arms, then carrying her out of the room without looking back.
I can feel Presh waving at the impostor over my shoulder.
Then I hear Doc murmur, “Do you need anything else?”
“Sleep,” Zaya says.“But I’m not going to get it yet.”
I miss the rest of their conversation, realizing even as I’m stepping away that I probably shouldn’t be leaving Doc alone with an unknown awry.
Grinder shifts from where he’s leaning back against the exterior wall to cover the door, guarding us all.
Then fucking Reck rolls up into the motel parking lot, tires squealing as if he didn’t anticipate the turn off the main road soon enough.I swear his monster of an SUV nearly rolls itself.But then he’s slamming on the brakes and launching himself out of the vehicle without shutting it off.
Behind me, Grinder stiffens involuntarily at my half-brother’s overly aggressive arrival.
Reck is dressed in one of his stupid official suits, which I hate because it covers practically every inch of him like some kind of neutralizing armor.So he’s not displaying his allegiances, even though everyone knows the Outcast are his for the taking.He’s the favored to step up and take our uncle’s place as president.
Except he walked away.
Now Reck hunts down our kind — under the guise of being an official agent of the Authority, aka the Purge, aka the assholes who think they can police how essence is used and how essence-wielders are treated.Some of their favorite tactics include collecting illegal essence-imbued artifacts, hunting so-called criminals too powerful for the null-run police forces to capture and detain, and arrogantly crossing international borders and encroaching on claimed territories while doing so.
My half-brother is a deadly bureaucrat.A glorified bounty hunter with an extermination license.He’s got some sort of designs on being the head honcho of the Cascadian branch of the Authority within the next couple of years.Along with nebulous plans to take out Cataclysm MC— and specifically the Cataclysm, our sperm donor— when he’s finally got that sort of firepower behind him.
It’s all garbage, though.Just his way of dealing with the aftermath of losing Zaya by discarding all the plans we four formed.All those summers that we revolved around her — our center, our crux.
Shorter and a fair bit trimmer than me, but two years the elder, Reck reaches for Presh — and she for him — the moment he sets his dark-eyed gaze on us.He needs a shave, assuming he doesn’t want to get written up by his superiors.Dress code and all that.He’s a detective, or maybe a sergeant now, for the Major Crimes Unit.
I couldn’t give two shits.
And I don’t want to hand Presh over to him.Normally, I would trust Reck to get her to our uncle’s place, no problem.But I’m not too sure how he’s going to react to the change in her eye color.
The awry are equally revered, loathed, and feared.The asshole Authority are a mix of the loathing and fear.And I know they lock up essence-wielders like Presh preemptively.Or even outright kill them.I’ve heard Reck say so.
Preemptive elimination of a potentially dangerous creature.
As well, Reck has personal reasons to loathe and fear purple eyes.
“Little sis,” he growls playfully, pulling Presh into a hug that leaves her legs dangling.“I don’t see you for six months, and this is how you saunter back into my life?”
Presh wraps her arms around his neck and grins at him.“I’m okay.Now.”
“You could have called me.”He gently sets her on her feet.
“Chains took my phone.”
“Before you ran away,” he says, trying to force eye contact with her.“I would have come for you.”
Presh keeps her gaze dropped to the pavement, not calling Reck on the obvious lie.None of us could have walked into Cataclysm territory and come back out alive.Not with Presh intact and in tow, at least.Not without involving the Outcast and starting a war with a club separated from us, as the crow flies, by another entire fucking country.
“We could have negotiated,” I say softly, trying to smooth it all over because that’s my fucking role, no matter that it chafes badly right now.
“He ordered … this special cage …” she murmurs.
I feel the moment the impostor moves closer.Grinder actually shifts to the side so the fake Zaya can lean in the doorway, as if he doesn’t view her as the massive threat she is.She’s still blocked from Reck’s sight by my bulk, and with Presh coated in her vanilla-based scent, she’s somewhat hidden from his senses.For the moment.
“A cage?What the fuck for?”Reck massages his right hand.That hand was all but crushed thirteen years ago, when he saved my life and Rought’s.But lost Zaya.I’m not sure it actually hurts him anymore, but it’s always a clear tell that he’s agitated.
