Page 29 of Man of Honor

“Think you’re tough, huh?” Paulie taunted, panting with exertion.He crouched beside me and grabbed a fistful of hair, his breath warm and sour on my blood-streaked cheek.“Looks like you’ve got a death wish, Beaufort.Yeah, I know who you are. Everyone around here does, don't we?Rich fucker. You should’ve walked away that night and left the girl alone."

“Keep talking, Paulie," I slurred through my bloody teeth."Just makes it easier for me to remember your face when I come back for you.”

His fist slammed into my throat, and I choked.The world went dark. Still, I tried to get up, but my arms were shaking too badly.I was getting pulled under with each blow.Drowning.

I remembered this feeling, too—the one when I was about to die.

Maybe it was the darkness of the forest or the smell of green all around me, but suddenly, I felt like I'd been transported back to the bayou.I was a kid again, and I'd failed to outrun the monster.I could almost hear the bullfrogs croaking and the water lapping against the muddy banks.Part of me knew it was crazy; I was a grown man, and this was just another in a list of fights as long as my arm.But the rest of me was in the bayou, alone and bleeding in the dark, and no one was coming to help.

My brothers had warned me to play it smart and stop causing trouble.But that wasn't who I was. I was a fighter.It was all I knew.

“He’s had enough.” The voice echoed strangely in my head, like it was coming from a bullhorn at the end of a distant tunnel.

“He’s still breathing,” said another voice, rougher and meaner.“Might as well finish the job.”

“Not even Vanderhoff could ignore that.”

Someone chuckled. “He’s probably dead, anyway.”

A final kick landed somewhere near my kidneys, but I barely noticed by this point.They left me there, sprawled in the dirt, waiting to see if I’d crawl back to my feet.But I was done. By the time they moved away, the world was fading in and out.Their footsteps were distant and distorted, like I was listening underwater.

I lay there for a long time, blood pooling in my mouth, chest heaving with each shallow, broken breath.Maybe this was it, I thought stupidly.Maybe this was where everything finally ended.But my heart kept beating. My lungs kept drawing air, even though it hurt like hell.I wasn’t dead, no matter how much it felt like my body had been put through a meat grinder.

I rolled onto my back and stared up at the canopy of trees.So, this was how it went, huh?Not today. Not yet. The ground was too cold, too damp, and I wasn’t done.Not by a long shot.

With a ragged, wet-sounding laugh, I began the torturous process of climbing to my feet.It felt like trying to move a mountain.My vision blurred, and the world swayed, but I dug my fingers into the rough bark of a nearby pine and managed to drag myself upright.

My brain was chugging so sluggishly, I could barely think.The Dead End was nearby, I knew that much.If I strained, I could still hear the music.Someone must have started the jukebox up again.But I couldn’t go back there—not in this condition—and I couldn't go home.

My brothers were trying to make something of themselves, to do things right with the mess we’d been handed.But if they saw me now, bleeding and beaten half to death, it’d be over in seconds.Dominic would kill every one of those men without a second thought.He wouldn't hesitate, and he wouldn't regret it, not even when it landed him a life sentence alongside Ben.I'd already ruined one of my brother's lives.I wasn't about to do it again.

I swiped a trembling hand across my face, grimacing at a wet smear of blood, and stumbled in the opposite direction of the bar.The woods were a haze of dark shapes and shifting shadows, but I was acting on muscle memory by this point.My feet knew where to go. I’d spent so much time on my own as a kid, I’d memorized every crooked tree and creek in the parish.I could walk these woods blindfolded.Hell, my vision was so shot, a blindfold wouldn’t have made any difference.

I almost laughed, but it hurt too much.For all the time I’d spent in the wild, for all the paths I knew, there was still nowhere for me to go.This place raised me, shaped me, but I'd never belonged.My father had made sure of that.I hadn't even known how to read or write when Boone took me in, and I'd spent my school years isolated in special classes just to catch up.The only friends I’d made were the rough kind, the convenient kind, the ones who got into trouble with me but never got me out of it.I'd lost touch with all of them when Boone shipped me to Vegas.

Crickets and cicadas kept me company as I staggered along, unperturbed by the rustle of something creeping through the underbrush.Probably a snake. Somewhere along the way, without meaning to, I found myself following a creek.Murky water burbled through a tangle of oaks and pecan trees, a thin silver vein barely catching enough moonlight to act as a guide.

Time didn't exist in the forest, so I don't know how long I wandered, guided by instinct.I only knew I couldn't stop. My legs dragged like I was wading through jello, and I slipped on wet grass, landing face-first in the dirt.But just when I was ready to collapse, a flicker of light broke through my fog of pain and confusion.

I squinted, half-convinced I was hallucinating...and then I realized what I'd done.

A bitter, half-crazy laugh bubbled up inside me.

Even after all this time, after everything that had happened between us, I’d made my way to Wyatt on instinct.Like I still thought he could save me.He was the only man who’d ever made me feel safe, but I’d never once dared set foot in his home.

It stood beside the creek, a renovated barn designed with rugged, rough-hewn charm.Porch lights glowed like lanterns, casting a soft light over the weathered timber and stone steps.The whole place gave off a sense of peaceful solitude, far different from the haunting, decaying quiet of Eden House.

It took every last scrap of strength to get up the steps.The world was slipping in and out of focus, and a fine tremor had settled deep in my bones.By the time I reached the door, I was shaking so bad I could barely raise a fist to knock.

The door swungopenbefore I could connect—and there was Wyatt. Casual. Warm. Barefoot and messy-haired.Even now, barely conscious, I felt the tug ofhim.

“Jesus, Gage...” he whispered. His expression was filled with shock and horror.

I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say, and barely managed to croak out, "I...I didn't have anywhere else togo."

Then the last of my strength gave way, and Icollapsed.

Chapter Fourteen