Page 155 of Shattered Souls
“Don’t.”
“He can’t do this here.” His voice is strained as he vacillates between interfering and letting Grayson go to town on his shithead father. He must decide to give him another moment as he pulls out his phone instead, bringing it to his ear. A moment later, he says, “Yeah, you might wanna come out here.”
Royce’s broad frame darkens the doorway a moment later.
“Jesus Christ, he’s going to kill him.” He stalks over to Grayson, and this time, I don’t interfere as he grabs him by the back of his shirt and drags him off his unconscious father. “That’s enough,” he hisses, voice low as he scans the street.
Grayson grunts and shakes him off but makes no move to attack his father. Instead, he spins toward me, stalking across the short distance between us until his hands cup my face, his gaze raking over every inch of it before dropping to my neck.
His gaze turns molten as his nostrils flare, his thumb moving to scoop up the droplet of blood before sucking it into his mouth.
My hands slide up his chest, resting over his thundering heart. “I’m fine,” I assure him.
“Aurora?”
“She’s in the house, hopefully asleep.”
With a curt nod, he whirls on the guys. “And where the hell were you two whilehe—”he stabs a finger in Bertram’s direction—“was attacking our girl?”
“We had no idea.” Logan grimaces, chagrinned. “He’s supposed to be in the hospital!”
Grayson shakes his head. “That’s what I was coming to tell you. I just got a call from the hospital to tell me he’d absconded.” Snarling, he turns away and begins pacing the sidewalk.
“Well, I don’t think we’ll be returning him,” Royce drawls, sneering down at what remains of Bertram. Between the burns and Grayson’s beating, he’s unrecognizable.
“What do we do with him?” Logan asks, jutting his chin out toward Bertram.
“I’ll call Dax. I’m sure he’s got somewhere we can take him.”
Royce makes his call, and a short while later, they have an unconscious Bertram bundled up in the back of his truck.
“How are we doing this, then?” Logan asks as we huddle around the back of the car.
“I’m staying here,” I tell them. “Someone needs to stay with Aurora, and honestly, I don’t want to know.” I meet Grayson’s gaze. “I’m not letting him steal any more of my happiness. Knowing he’s gone is all I need to know.”
He holds my stare before nodding—an understanding passing between us.
“Royce can come with me. Logan, you stay with the girls.”
“What?!” Logan protests. “No way. I want my pound of flesh, too.”
“All of you can go,” I tell them, waving toward the truck. “We’ll be fine. Our only threat is currently zip-tied and soon to leave the land of the living.”
The three of them share a look, a silent communication going on between them. None of them look terribly happy about it, but ultimately, they all agree, and I watch the taillights of Royce’s truck disappear into the distance before heading back into the house.
I shower quickly before pulling on Logan’s sweats, Grayson’s t-shirt, and Royce’s hoodie and crawling into bed beside Aurora. I snuggle into her, breathing in her scent that is uniquely hers.
Burying my face in her neck, I smile because, finally, I’m free.
46
LOGAN
Arms crossed over my chest, I lean against the tiled wall as I watch Bertram dangle from a chain hooked to the ceiling. It feels fitting that we’ve come full circle. That we’re back in the same room we interrogated Lydia in.
Except, this time, our victim won’t be leaving alive.
“He’s waking up.” Royce takes a step back from where he’d been standing sentinel over Bertram, Grayson pushing off the wall on the far side of the small room to stalk closer.
