Boar charged at him from the back like a Minotaur finally caught up to his prey. He slung the short chain between his wrists under his captor’s chin and pulled, dragging the bastard’s feet off the ground in a single move. With a face purple from bruises and four deep scars running across it, the rage tearing out of Boar’s throat was the final push for Clover to stop hiding.
Their opponent’s neck snapped, and when his body dropped, Clover exhaled the load of air he’d been unconsciously holding.
He was still in a state of shock when hands spun him around, and he met Drake’s black gaze, which focused on him from behind a balaclava. His heart danced, but before he could have said anything, Drake leaned in and pressed their lips together.
There had never been a more chaste kiss in Clover’s life. Their mouths weren’t even touching, separated by the fabric of their balaclavas, yet the spark of emotion conveyed through the way Drake held him left no doubt of where they stood. Despite the crack between them previously feeling like an uncrossable valley of regret, Drake was still ready to save Clover from the wolves.
Clover squeezed Drake’s hoodie. Time was just a construct right now, because it stretched into infinity in their little bubble. The nature of their relationship remained uncertain, but Clover finally saw a path to a new understanding. Not a sturdy bridge, only the narrowest dirt road threatened by overgrowth, but it was there, and Clover would walk it every day until no one could deny that it existed.
The shouting from the direction of the house reminded him that they weren’t alone, and the cops must have heard the shootout. They didn’t have much time.
Drake stepped back, but his eyes remained locked with Clover’s. “Okay?”
“Y-yes. Boar.” Clover wouldn’t waste the precious seconds, so he stepped toward the confused group of captives. His voice trembled at first. “The cops are at the house. Go there, or run. Either way, this is your chance.”
The eyes staring back at him lit up like a dozen suns peeking from behind the horizon, but understanding was dawning on their faces. He had no idea if they saw police as salvation or a threat, but his job was done here.
A crack made Clover flinch, but when he saw it was Boar running his way, Clover dashed toward him with a broken sob. Relief soothed the pain of the past months when their bodies clashed and the strong arms lifted Clover off the ground. He’d missed Boar so much.
“You’re alive,” Boar whispered into Clover’s ear, and the familiar tickle of his beard made Clover finally believe that this wasn’t yet another dream. They were back together.
“My van’s down the road. Let’s go,” Drake said, urging them forward as the prisoners scattered. “One? All okay? Five and Four are with me. We’re off,” he spoke into his headset as they sprinted between the trees, following Drake’s lead.
The other prisoners should distract the cops enough to ensure a safe escape, but they couldn’t take any chances. In the morning sun, Boar’s naked back, even if bruised and dotted with scars, looked sturdy, but then Clover’s gaze settled on Apollo’s mark on Boar’s shoulder blade. The three of them shared it, and all he could think of were the horrors Boar must had gone through and survived.
Apollo. Fucking Apollo. The bane of their existence.
He was so focused on Boar that the white van seemed to emerge out of nowhere, but Drake was already jumping into the driver’s seat. “Get in. Get in,” he roared, and unlike Clover, Boar jumped straight into action and turned the handle at the back of the van despite the steel cuffs on his hands.
He rolled inside, and Clover followed. The van had already come to life by the time he shut the back door and lay on the yoga mat, exhausted and still squeezing his gun, driven by the irrational fear that someone might tear inside.
Drake was already informing the others of what had transpired, but Clover’s attention settled on Boar. Barefoot, in just a pair of sweatpants, with four irregular scars marring his face, he seemed exhausted, but what mattered was that he was here in the flesh. Alive.
“Boar…” Clover’s voice trembled when he put his arms around Boar’s neck and squeezed. He tried to speak, but got too choked up each time, and Boar ended up stroking Clover’s back reassuringly when it was Boar who needed the support.
They rolled from side to side as Drake sped down the winding road, but in the familiar space where they’d made out many times, safety was a given, no matter what went on beyond its metal walls.
Boar smelled of soap, but his long beard hadn’t seen a comb beyond his own fingers in a long time. He appeared more serious. Bigger. But the hard muscles couldn’t make him any less cuddly, so Clover held on, breaking into a sob of relief.