I open my mouth, but I’m interrupted by a sound. A voice that makes my blood run cold. The anger and terror in it makes my hair stand on end. “Get your fucking hands off of me, you piece of shit!” The cold, hard realization hits me, and I hear Rattler suck in a tortured breath next to me. It can’t be her. It can’t. She’s safe at home.Ourhome.
Hicks reemerges from the darkness, and he’s not alone. He has a death grip on Elle’s upper arm. I can see his knuckles turning white as she fights against his hold. Simultaneously, Rattler and I take a step toward her, but Hicks puts the muzzle of his gun to her head. She inhales shakily, and in the light of his headlights, those bottle-green eyes that I love so much are wide with terror.
“By all means, come closer if you’d like to see your play-thing get her pretty little head blown off,” he snarls at us. Putting his face down next to hers, he changes his tone. “I thought I was going to have to come find you, but look at what a good girl you are. Selflessly coming to their rescue. Sure, you’re unarmed and more than a little stupid, but you did your best, sweetheart.”
Hicks turns his rifle back toward us, moving his aim from Rattler to me and back again like he’s trying to choose. “Who should I off first, princess? Big and stupid or the reptile fetish?” He asks Elle, running his nose over her cheek. She leans away, disgusted.
“You can go fuck yourself,” she grits out
“Have it your way,” he says with a chuckle. Time moves at a glacial pace, but so does my body. In a feral panic, Elle struggles against Hicks as he swings the barrel toward Rattler.
CRACK. CRACK-CRACK-CRACK.
“No!” Ellescreams. I’ve never heard anything like it. Not even in Afghanistan. She’s rage incarnate, boiling over with pain and terror.
I sprint toward her, instinct taking over.Get her safe. Get her away. Away from him. Behind the truck. Away. Away. Away.I’m halfway to her when I realize she isn’tjuststruggling. Maybe it’s just a reflex. Maybe she knows that disengaging clean is unlikely, if not impossible. Either way, she jockeys for position, and once she maneuvers into a better spot, she brings her knee up almost all the way to her chest and drives her heel down with every bit of force she can muster.
I hear the bones in his foot snap before the pain even registers on his face. They echo in the dark like a child cracking twigs in the forest. Hicks lets out an almighty bellow and reaches for her again, but he’s too slow. Or maybe she’s just too fast.
Her hand, now free, flicks. There’s a flash of silver in the moonlight, and an instant later, blood inexplicably sprays from Hicks’ throat. His bellow and all that rage cuts off so abruptly that I swear I can still feel the last of the vibrations in the silent night. I skid to a halt, shocked as the moment of silence gives way to a distressed gurgling sound. Rattler was hot on my heels, but out of the corner of my eye, I see he’s pulled up short next to me, mouth hanging open.
Hicks drops to the ground with a wet thud, and it’s only when the light from his cruiser catches a gleaming handle that I realize her butterfly knife is sticking out the front of his neck. Elle looks up, the tears streaming down her face mixing with the blood splattered all over her, staining her face in pink rivulets. She doesn’t move. Just stares at us like her muscles have calcified.
“Ryland?” she calls Rattler by his given name, the pain and confusion just as clear in her voice as it is on her face.
“Fuck,” he breathes, taking off at a full sprint. He reaches her first, holding her face in his hands. “Baby, what are you doing here? Jesus, fuck. Are you okay? Baby, answer me. Are you okay?” He pulls her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her shaking shoulders.
I stand over Hicks, watching the blood pour from his neck like a river overflowing its banks. “Did—Oh, god! Did I kill him?” Elle’s voice is tiny in the darkness. Terrified. Fragile. That she can even feel guilt or sadness for this pathetic excuse of a man, this rotten heap of cruelty, is a testament to her beautiful heart. I, on the other hand, am a lot less forgiving.
“No, sweetheart,” I tell her, reaching down and snatching Rattler’s revolver from Hicks’ belt. He glares at me, even now reaching for the rifle with a limp hand. I kick it farther away, not that it would have done him any good.
He’s already dead, his body just hasn’t gotten the message yet. From where I’m standing, his life was forfeit the second he laid a finger on her. He sealed his own fate, and I’m not about to let the woman I love, my Old Lady, go through life with this on her conscience.
Rattler hands me the bullet he had stashed in his belt buckle. I stare Hicks in the eyes as I open the cylinder and let the blanks rain down on his chest. “All blanks, you stupid fuck. Every single clip.” I load that single bullet, glancing at Rattler. He hugs Cherry’s head, covering her ears and shielding her line of sight.
Hicks gurgles up at me, blood spilling out of his mouth and hatred burning in his eyes.
“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” I growl through clenched teeth. “Wanna speak up? No? How about some parting words of wisdom?No one touches our girl.Have fun sucking the devil’s dick.”
I straighten my arm, pointing right between those hate-filled eyes, and pull the trigger. Beyond confirming that Hicks won’t ever take another breath, I don’t even look at him. He’s lower than trash, and the only thing I give a flying fuck about right now is getting Cherry out of here.
16
ELLE
I’m shaking. I’m shaking so hard it hurts. Fuck, everything hurts. The only thing that’s keeping me together is Rattler. He has his arms wrapped around my head, squeezing me to his chest. I can hear his heart beating under his t-shirt and I just stand here, counting the thumps while he strokes my hair.
One.Alive.
Two.Alive.
Three.Alive…
“Where the fuck are they?”
“Fuck if I know!”
“We’ve gotta get her out of here.”