Page 62 of Man of Honor
“No. No way.” She might have run from her other foster homes, but not us. Not after finally finding a place where she had a chance to feel safe.
The shopping district only got busier to the east, so I turned west, jogging because I couldn’t flat-out run. Ben was on my heels when I veered down a side street and froze. A truck was idling just a few blocks away—and there she was.
Paulie Tibbs had one hand clamped over Ivy’s mouth, the other wrapped tight around her waist as he dragged her toward his waiting truck. She’d lost a sneaker, and her bare foot scraped the concrete as she thrashed. Her eyes were huge and terrified over the edge of his hand.
That look hit me like a sledgehammer. I knew that feeling. I remembered the rush of terror and helplessness, the sense that my borrowed time was up.
“Gage!” Her scream was muffled behind his hand, but I heard.
Instinct roared to life, and I wasn’t thinking anymore—I was moving.
Paulie barely had time to react before I slammed into him, hitting him like a freight train and driving him onto the pavement. His grip on Ivy broke as he fell. She stumbled, collapsing on her hands and knees, but Ben was there to scoop her into his arms.
“It’s not six-to-one anymore, asshole,” I spat, crashing my fist straight into his face. The crunch of his nose breaking was sickening, and I fucking loved it.
Paulie grunted, trying to shove me off, but size and rage were on my side. I straddled his chest, hammering his face again and again until the pain in my knuckles was a black fog filling my mind. The fear in Ivy’s face fueled every blow. He’d ripped her away from us, manhandling her like she was nothing.
Hewas nothing.
I could kill him right here, exactly like I should have done when my father came back for me five years ago, and the world would only be better for it. My knuckles split, slicking my hands in hot, sticky blood until I couldn’t tell whose was whose. At some point, he stopped fighting back, but that only made it easier.
Somewhere beyond the red haze, Ivy was screaming my name. It mingled with the wail of sirens until I couldn’t be sure what was real. Someone grabbed me from behind, dragging me off myvictim. I heaved and tried to flip him over my shoulder, but the guy was too big and too heavy.
“Gage, stop!” Ben yelled, hauling me off Paulie’s limp body. “You’re going to kill him!”
It wasn’t his words that cut through the fog in my head—it was the fear in his voice. I staggered, chest heaving, shaking so violently I could barely stand. Ben’s grip steadied me as I stared down at Paulie’s crumpled body. His face was swollen and unrecognizable, choking on the blood pooling in his mouth and nose. But he was still breathing.
I tore my gaze away, searching for Ivy. She was pressed against the brick wall of a vape shop, tears streaming down her face. Langford knelt beside her, checking her scraped hands and knees with infuriating calm.
When our eyes met, her face crumpled with such profound relief that the hell inside my mind finally began to ebb. She pushed off the wall and ran to me, throwing herself into my arms so hard it drove the air from my lungs.
My right hand was dripping blood, so I curled my left arm around her and glared at Langford over her head. “You were the one by the door. How did you miss him grabbing her?”
“My job is to watch him,” Langford said, nodding expressionlessly toward Ben. “Yours was to watch her. Don’t get mad at me because you fucked up.”
“You’re a selfish bastard, you know that?” Ben growled, stepping forward like he wanted a piece of him too.
Langford looked at him silently, and I had a feeling his eyes were cold as ice behind those mirrored lenses. He stood, dusting hissuit, and said to me, “Those sirens are for you. Better get your story straight before they arrive.”
Red and blue lights were coming up behind us, reflecting in the shop windows. Crowds clustered on the sidewalk a safe distance away, while others shuffled past with their phones out to record the carnage. I ignored them, staring down at the blood slicking my fingers. Even now, it felt like I hadn’t done enough.
“Let it go, Gage,” Ben said quietly, as if reading my mind.
Ivy huddled against me, squishing her face against my chest until her tears dampened my shirt. “You saved me,” she kept whispering over and over. “You saved me.”
I closed my eyes and cradled the back of her head with one hand, careful not to smear blood in her hair. The weight of what I’d done was starting to slam down on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Ben had once sacrificed everything to protect me. Tonight, I’d done the same for Ivy. No matter what came next, I’d never regret that.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
WYATT
Magnolia Street wasin chaos by the time I got there. Watery blood stained the sidewalk, reeking of iron and mingling with the greasy scent of an idling ambulance. Rookie cops worked the crowd, snapping chewing gum and taking statements while bystanders gawked.
At the center of it all was Gage.
He sat on the curb with his wrists cuffed behind his back so tightly that his shoulders were set at an unnatural angle. His shirt was torn and tacky with drying blood, and his head was tipped back, exposing a grimy throat. I recognized that loose-limbed posture, elaborately casual, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. I’d seen it hundreds of times when he was a teenager. Pure defiance.
I knew better. That defiance wasn’t strength; it was a shield to hide his fear. Gage didn’t fight because he wanted to; he fought because he didn’t know how to stop—and he was too damn proud to ask for help.