Page 12 of Chaos & Carnage
Casting a glance over my shoulder, I notice Oliver has placed Dante and Enzo between us, a strategic move that will offer some reassurance to the men that even though I’ve allowed them to set foot inside our home, I don’t trust them.
Dante and Enzo must sense the tension too, as their backs are ramrod straight, their keen eyes surveying the clubhouse and surrounding area as if sensing the present threat. Dropping my gaze, I notice that they have their hands open and relaxed at their sides, their fingers spread to show they aren’t holding any weapons.
The front door is pulled open as we approach, and I greet Dax with a curt nod as I step into the darkened interior. The room is nothing like I remember, and a wave of regret crashes through me that this home me and my men slaved to build has to be turned into a security outpost. Of course, that’s the point of a clubhouse, then again it still doesn’t lessen the disappointment at seeing it.
Still, my men have done an excellent job of fortifying the place. Men line the front wall, keeping watch through slits in the windows, and I know more are watching the perimeter and are stationed at other lookouts throughout the building.
I haven’t had the chance to stop by and check on the clubhouse myself. Between Evie’s resurrection and Red’s disappearance, I’ve been relying on Marcus, and men like Dax, who have been with me since the beginning, to keep things running smoothly. From what I can tell, everything was left in safe hands, but it’s good that I stopped by. As their leader, I should be here. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Evie and Red, I would be shoulder-to-shoulder with them right now, gun in hand, ready to fight.
Once Red is safely escorted back home, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing.
Turning my attention to Dax, I notice his focus is over my shoulder, at the two suit-wearing statues behind me. His face is pinched tight, and as I cast my gaze around the rest of the men, I notice similar expressions of unease.
“Red?” I grunt out, getting straight to the point. No civilized conversation can be had with all of them while these two are in the room. Their presence will only serve to escalate tensions further. Since it already feels like we’re residing on the edge of a volcano ready to erupt, I have no desire to see what would happen if the top blew off and magma started spewing.
Dax’s wary gaze flicks back to mine. “She’s in your room.”
With a nod, I move past him, hearing the sound of the others following and feeling everyone’s eyes on us as I move toward the back hallway and down to my bedroom. With every step, my heart climbs higher, until it’s lodged in the back of my throat. Excitement at seeing her again, at holding her in my arms and kissing her delectable lips, merges with questions of what state we’ll find her in and what she’s been through in these last couple of days.
By the time my hand wraps around the door handle, I’m a nervous, anxious mess. Glancing back at Oliver, I see those same emotions in his face, and not wanting to be separated for another moment, I push open the door.
My steps falter as I cross the threshold, finding my girl curled up on her side in the middle of the bed, sound asleep. Even the sound of scuffling behind me, as the others fight to be the next through the door, doesn’t wake her from sleep.
All of us go still when we realize she’s sleeping, and on silent footsteps, I walk around the bed until I can see her face. Black rings line her eyes, and a large bruise has formed on her temple, I’m guessing from when she was thrown from her bike, but other than that, I can’t see any damage. Nothing life-threatening, at least.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Dante take a step toward her before pausing, as though he can’t resist the pull but is afraid to get too close or touch her. Despite my own desire to wrap her in my arms, I stay frozen, watching as Dante takes another step in her direction. His face is glued to her, running up and down her body as if trying to assure himself she’s alive and in one piece, and the way he moves is like he’s being pulled on a string. Even if he tried to fight it, he’d still be drawn to her.
When he’s close enough, he reaches out a hand except rather than touching her, his hand just hovers there, inches from her skin, like he’s afraid his touch will do more harm than good. None of us can see the extent of her injuries, but we all saw her bike. There’s no way she isn’t battered and bruised underneath her clothing.
Eventually, he runs the back of his finger over her cheek, the only obvious area that’s unharmed. Red leans into the touch before her eyes flutter, and she slowly turns her head toward him as her lids, still heavy with sleep, part.
“Dante?” Her voice is hoarse, but damn if it’s not the best sound I’ve ever heard. Whether she’s screaming bloody murder, crying out my name in the throws of passion, or like this, her voice is music to my ears, beckoning me. It wraps around my soul and reminds me of home—of happy memories, smiling faces, and joyous laughter. It reminds me of the positives of life, of what’s important.
I’d long forgotten what it felt like to bathe in that warmth. In the warmth of infectious smiles and loving eyes. I’ve spent so long in the cold clutches of vengeance and grief that I’d become oblivious to what I’d lost. All these years, my life has been dedicated to avenging Evie. I was so focused on that one task that I failed to realize that I had lost everything too. After that day, there was no more laughter, no more easy smiles. No more warmth or love. Everything was bleak and cold, layered in pain and regret… until Red.
Even when she was evading me and driving me insane with her lies and refusal to tell me who the Reaper was, she still sparked something in me that I thought I’d lost. Every time I was around her, she would punch through the impenetrable cage wrapped around my heart without even meaning to. Every touch, every snarky remark, every heated glance was another blow to my armor, until I was riddled with holes and leaking emotions I’d long since forgotten how to feel.
At first, I hated her for it. I hated her for reminding me of what I once had—what I lost—but soon, I became addicted to those feelings, to her. I chased that warmth like a drug addict after their next fix until it became the only thing I wanted to feel.
I still want revenge, but it’s no longer the predominant emotion. I’m no longer encased in stone and breathing for only one purpose. Now, I’m actually living. Instead of getting out of bed with the promise of vengeance on my tongue, I want to wake up to the taste of her. Red’s as cynical as anyone else born and raised in Black Creek, but she emits a light that you can’t help but be drawn to. Like a moth to a flame, she enraptured me, lured me in until all I could see was her fire. Her flame blinded me and singed my wings, but I have no intention of flying away. I’m wholeheartedly hers, have been from the first moment we met, and will be until I take my last breath.
“Mia vita.” The reverence in Dante’s tone takes me by surprise, and even though I don’t know what he’s said, he says it with such devotion and admiration that it’s almost jarring. Gone are the harsh lines around his lips, and there’s a softness in his eyes that I wouldn’t have thought him capable of. It’s like looking at a completely different Dante to the one I’ve been forced to put up with for the last forty-eight hours.
Is this the Dante Red sees? The one she believes was worthy of being spared that day in the church? The one who made her fall for him?
Seeing her awake breaks Oliver’s restraint, and he surges forward. The movement catches Red’s attention, and she turns to face him as he steps up to the opposite side of the bed. Hesitation flashes in her eyes, even as a nervous smile lifts her lips, and she watches him closely as he hovers above her. Dante remains on her other side, watching over her like a sentinel. I get the impression it’s going to be next to impossible to get rid of him now.
The air crackles with unspoken words as Red and Oliver lock eyes, a thousand unsaid emotions flitting between them as the rest of us watch on.
Oliver’s face crumples, and his words come out ragged when he speaks. “Fuck, Red.” In the next moment, he’s practically on top of her, careful to hold his own weight as he wraps her up in his arms and pulls her against him. “I’m so fucking sorry. I was a fucking idiot, and you have every right to brandish your knife and threaten to slice me open. I should never have made you question us.Ishould never have questioned us.” Loosening his hold on her, he moves to cup her cheek, lifting her head until she’s staring him in the eyes. All of us lay witness as Oliver bears his soul for her, allowing not only her but each of us to see every bit of anguish, love, and regret he’s been harboring. “You’re it for me. It shouldn’t have taken you disappearing for me to realize that, but just know that I love you.”
“I never questioned us, Oliver. It would be impossible to not love you.” Tears are thick in Red’s voice, but she holds it together, her tone sharpening as she says, “I understand why you had your doubts, but if you ever do that to me again, Iwillslice you open with my knife.”
Oliver just beams at her. “Not a problem, Trouble.”
“Jeez, talk about a sappy fucking reunion,” Enzo grouses, garnering Red’s attention as she looks his way, another bright smile lighting her face.
Enzo smirks beneath her attention, but I see the relief in his eyes. “Good to see you in one piece, Spitfire.”