Page 40 of The Ruthless Guardian

“You’re working on sounding more American?” I ask, watching him continue to carve things into the chest of a man that died a few minutes ago.

“I plan to stay. I thought I’d try.”

“That’s good. It sounds good.” I can relate to a lot of what I imagine Reaper is feeling right now. I’ve been in a similar position before, and I think I understand what he might be feeling. “My condolences on your family.”

Reaper sighs and shakes his head, turning around to face me. “Death is inevitable. No matter the strength of our fight, death will always claim us in the end. Like this guy. He put up a decent fight at first. I reckon you can watch later.” He points his knife up at the camera in the corner. “I’ll call Mac and Prospect to get the body.”

“You won’t have service here. I’ll grab my phone.”

“Nae,” Reaper swipes the blood off his knife with a rag from one of the counters in the garage and reaches into his back pocket. “I have the sat-phone. Pres said I would need it here.”

“He thinks of everything.” That’s why he gets to be Pres. He’s always plotting, and he doesn’t miss a detail.

Reaper scoffs like he doesn’t agree, dialing the number for Mac and lifting the phone to his ear. While he talks, I rifle through my cigar box and pick out two of my favorites, offering one to him. I haven’t smoked a single one since Phoebe arrived, but I prefer to seal the end of a stressful situation with a smoke.

Twirling my butane lighter between my fingers, I lead Reaper outside and light mine first so he can see how it’s done before handing over the lighter. New smokers tend to be confused, but he handles it well. “Have you smoked these before?”

“Aye.” He spins the cigar in front of his nose, sniffing along the side of it. “Reminds me of my home.”

“Someone in your family smoked?”

Reaper takes a long inhale and nods. “Aye. All of the men.” Silence stretches between us as the smoke billows upwards into the bright sky. “You say she’s okay?” he asks quietly, and at first I think he’s asking about Phoebe, but then it clicks.

“She seems to be,” I answer, purposefully vague while I try to decide how much to divulge.

“She’s not… fucked up?”

Okay, maybe Pres’s concerns are slightly warranted. Or maybe Reaper is just checking in. They’ve been barred from even speaking each other’s names as far as I know, so there’s no way he could ask for the information from anyone in the club. It’s understandable that the situation they went through would’ve bonded them, even if only in a small way.

For Reaper, the murders probably felt like a return to routine, but for Emily they were profound moments she’ll never forget. Her first crush, by her dad’s count, swooping in like a white knight to save her from two men that would rather see her dead? Yeah, that’s going to leave a lasting mark.

“No, of course not,” I answer. “She goes to school, goes to therapy, and hangs out with friends. I mean, it affects her I’m sure, but she doesn’t complain in any of her phone conversations. She’s doing really well. She’s gonna grow up to be a fully functional adult with only a little more than the regular dosage of childhood trauma.”

Reaper chuckles. “Perfect.”

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Are you fucked up by it?” It seems to me that he’s pretty comfortable with the idea of murder and the practice itself. I doubt he’s plagued by the memories of what he did for Emily, but I’m curious.

Reaper squints at the sky while he contemplates the answer, then shakes his head. “Nah. That one felt good. A little better than all the rest, I think.”

Chapter Thirty-one

Phoebe

It’s been a week since the world changed. Nothing actually changed on the inside. The walls are the same. Josiah looks the same and sounds the same, and for the most part he acts just like he did before. But now, for the first time in what feels like a billion years, I’m not afraid. The outside world is safe again.

And yet, I don’t want to go. I’ve grown to like it here. The solitude is comforting, like constantly being in a warm embrace. Josiah gave me access to the internet again, but I don’t use it for much. I’ve been doing a bunch of research with my phone though, I can’t get that stupid scenario out of my mind.

It’s just one last thing I have to mention to Josiah, and I don’t know how he’s going to react. His number one priority always seems to be keeping me safe, and this might cross that line for him. He might see it as hurting me, while I think he’ll be healing me.

“Can I ask you for something?” I mumble, standing behind him where he’s sitting at his desk. I’m too nervous to say the words too loudly, like if I speak above a certain volume everything is going to crash to the ground around me. “It’s going to sound really weird but I… I keep having this thought and I-”

Josiah spins in his chair and removes his glasses. “Phoebe, just tell me. Don’t give it a six page preface. Just tell me what you need.”

Need. It is a need. I wring my fingers together, looking at his face then down at the floor. “It’s… embarrassing.”

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