The storm grew worse than the weather had called for. The door had been barred shut at one point by the snow and leaving proved to be impossible. No more activity came through from McCray, which was our only saving grace.
Catalina has spent the better part of the last couple days mourning for the family she never got to know. Grieving for the pain and suffering they’ve caused with their evilness.
The snow stopped last night, and the sun is bright this morning as I crawl from her side. I have every intention of getting us out of here today. I need to find out if there’s been any new information revealed about McCray. If there’s someone else we should be on the lookout for after we snuff his life out. I want this over once he’s dead. There can be no more surprises.
Opening the front door, I head straight for Cat’s truck. Thankfully, she had it plugged into its own separate generator so that once the storm passed, she’d, we’d, be able to get out of here. There’s an urgency I feel to get her somewhere I know she’ll be safe. A foreboding in the air that I won’t see the hit coming.
Unlocking the truck, I turn the key in the ignition and hope for the best. The engine stutters as it turns over, so I pump the gas to get the heat flowing. It revs once, and I know we’re good to go. Turning the heat to high, I head back inside the house to wake Catalina up.
“Atticus?” she calls softly as I enter the front room. Guess I don’t need to wake her.
“Time to go, sleeping beauty,” I reply as I make my way to her room, the kittens dancing at my feet to be fed. “Make sure there’s lots of food and water out for the critters. If all goes well, we’re leaving today.”
“Today?” She sits up. “I told you I can’t just leave.”
She’s trying my fucking patience. Walking to the side of her bed, I lean down, gripping her chin with a bit of light force. I need her to understand the complete gravity of the situation we’re in.
“I don’t think you fully understand what’s going on, Catalina. I can’t protect you here. There are too many opportunities for him to distract me and get to you. I can’t let that happen. If I’m here, then I need my people. Since I have no fucking service here, I can’t do that either. Now, get your shit together, and let’s go.” I know I’m being harsh; the hurt in her eyes speaks of it, but if I must be an asshole to get what needs doing, done, then so be it.
“You don’t have to be so rude,” she snaps, standing up, trying to push me back.
“Except, I do. It seems to be the only language you listen to.” I lean forward to lay a kiss on her forehead, trying to soften the blow of my words. “Losing you isn’t an option for me, lamb.”
Her puff of breath on my neck is the only acquiescence I need to know she’ll do as I say. “Fine. But it wouldn’t kill you to say please.” She huffs and walks away while I laugh.
Saying please would likely never make it pass my lips before hell froze over.
While Cat gets her stuff together, I fill bowls of water for the animals and make sure they have food out for a couple of days.
“Here.” She drops a bag on the floor by my feet before leaning down to hug the dogs.
I head out to the truck to put her bags in the back when a loud whistling sound pierces the crisp, clear day. Searing heat blows me back from the truck that is now an inferno just feet from where I’d been standing. My ears ring, and pain assaults the side of my face and neck as I see Catalina come running outside, East and West on her heels.
“Get back inside!” I yell, only it sounds funny. My voice is hoarse.
“Atticus!” she screams, dropping to her knees in the snow beside me.
“You’re going to get pneumonia, get back inside!” I’m disoriented as I try to figure out what happened. Why the truck exploded.
“Atticus.” The fear in her tone finally draws my focused attention as she brings a hand up to my face.
“What?”
“I need…I need to sew you up.” What the hell is she talking about?
“I’m fine, lamb, I just need you inside. You have more than that rifle lying around?” The whistling sound I heard makes sense as my mind clears. A fucking RPG or grenade launcher.
“You’re not fine!” Stubborn fucking woman.
Trying to stand, I wobble on my feet, and she has to catch me. “Shit.” Maybe she’s right.
“West, hunt!” Cat commands. “East, guard!” The dogs do her bidding as she maneuvers me inside, the truck’s flames slowly warping the metal that once was our only way off this fucking mountain.
Dropping my weight on her couch, Cat runs to the bathroom and comes back with towels, a sewing kit, and a bottle of whiskey.
“Drink this,” she instructs as she drops the other items beside me.
“I said, I’m fine.” As she goes to the kitchen to grab a bowl with warm water and a bottle of aspirin, she reaches for a small mirror from one of her shelves on the way back.
Sitting on the table in front of me, she doesn’t say a thing as she holds the mirror up for me to see.
Motherfucker.
Pieces of shrapnel dot along my neck, while about an inch-long portion of flesh from my cheek hangs loosely.
Whiskey.
I need the fucking whiskey as the pain begins to throb in tune with the blood flowing.
Taking a long pull from the bottle, I struggle to accept this new reality. New scars. Same battle. Ultimate prize. I’d do it all over again so long as it meant my woman is safe.
Short sobs catch my attention as Catalina threads her needle. “I’ll be fine, Catalina. I’ve had worse.” Much worse.
I can see she doesn’t believe me. “Talk to me.” I’ll need the distraction while she sticks me.
“About what?” She’s gone pale as I take another swig of alcohol. “Take three of these, this is going to hurt.”
I accept the pills she hands me. “Sounds like you’ve done this before?”
“I grew up on this mountain. Mom fixing me up was easier than the drive to the clinic in town.” We take a deep breath together as she uses a cloth to clean the area around where she has to sew.
“Fuck.” Being shot doesn’t hurt this fucking bad.
Catalina
I’ve never been so scared in my life as I was when I heard the explosion. Seeing Atticus lying on the ground bloody and confused. I swear my heart stopped beating. I hate him, and I love him.
I don’t know how or when it happened, but he’s mine, and if something happens to him, I’m not sure I could go on living. He’s become as essential to my life as breathing.
Assessing his injuries, I know it’s by the grace of God that they aren’t worse. Or haven’t hit any vital veins or arteries. Especially the shrapnel in his neck. It’s only about half a dozen fragments, but enough that he’s going to feel them coming out.
Noticing he’s drunk half the bottle of whiskey, I know he’s about as ready as either of us will be for me to sew up his cheek.
“Here we go,” I murmur, and he clutches the edge of the couch.
I bite my tongue with the first poke through his flesh. His handsome face is now one of gruesome pain. He doesn’t move or make a sound as I continue to thread ten stitches in his face.
“I had to stitch the back of my calf once.” I need to distract us both; I can see him beginning to sway the further I go along. This story will likely piss him off enough to get his adrenaline pumping.
“What happened?”
“I was chopping wood–“
“Jesus Christ.”
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault. Someone had set a bear trap, and it caught East’s leg. His howling distracted me, and when I turned, I lost my footing, dropped the ax and fell on my ass.” I can laugh about it now. He looks like he’d like to tan my hide. “When the ax dropped, it landed at a weird angle, and my calf slid on it enough to split the skin.
“You ever touch that ax again, I’ll tie your hands behind your back and fuck you so hard you won’t walk straight for a month.” His threat does the opposite of what he likely wants. My core pulses, and my pussy throbs from the menace in his tone.
His gaze glistens as he sees my reaction. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I choose not to answer him. I know it’ll be used against me as soon as he can. “Needless to say, we both had a trip to town after that.”
Growling by the front door stops further conversation as Atticus stands just as I tie off the last stitch. “Down, behind the couch, now.” The rage in his voice prompts me to do as he says. No way do I want that aimed at me.
I lay on the floor, listening, waiting as Atticus cocks the rifle and takes aim at the door. “It’s me, it’s Charles!” is yelled, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Atticus roars but doesn’t grant the man entry.
“I found him.”
“Yeah, so did we.”
“I know where he’s staying. He was here. I saw him before he blew the truck, but he didn’t see me.” I don’t know if I’d trust Charles any more than I can throw him, but I’ll leave that up to Atticus. “There are other men here, too.”
“What other men?” Atticus snaps, his patience coming to an end.
“Daniel and someone, I think.”
“Atticus!” I hear another man call. The door opens swiftly, and boot steps quickly enter before its slammed shut again. “Holy fuck, what happened to you?” The same new voice asks.
“The truck blew up, dipshit.” Another voice answers.
“Lamb?” Atticus’ voice is softer, filled with relief.
I climb from behind the couch and to his waiting hand as he sits again, his rifle aimed at Charles’ head. “Tell me everything. Now. No fucking around.” His gaze is lasered on the man, death in his stare. “Keep going, lamb.” It amazes me how quickly his attitude can change when it comes to me.
Picking up the tweezers, I keep my hands steady as I take a quick glimpse of the newcomers. One’s older, tall, with dark looks. Tattoos peek out of every piece of clothing he’s wearing. The other is significantly younger, but no less intimidating with his lighter looks. He winks when he catches me watching him. “Watch it, Daniel,” Atticus growls, bringing his free hand to land on the top of my thigh, squeezing enough to dart my eyes back to him.
I don’t listen to too much of what is said as I pull pieces of metal from Atticus’ neck, stemming the flow of blood as each piece breaks free. He doesn’t flinch, curse, nothing. If not for the visual evidence, you’d never know he was nearly blown up.
It’s not until I hear my cousin’s name that I stop what I’m doing to look at the new men. “What about Steven?” I know he’s not a good man, but he was the only one to ever care about mom and me. He took care of us when we needed it.
The darker man looks to me, “He’s dead.”
I suck in a sharp breath at the news. “Christ sake, Dimitri. Have some fucking tact,” Atticus growls at the man, bringing one hand up to cup my cheek. “Lamb, he did some bad things. Caused a lot of pain to Talia.”
“He did?” My lower lip wobbles and I bite it trying to stop the pain slicing through my heart.
The younger one, Daniel, comes to sit next to me. This time he ignores Atticus’ deadly glare. “In the end, he chose to protect you. Without Steven, we wouldn’t have known Thomas was coming for you. You are who he chose to be loyal to, Lina, remember that.”
Lina.
It’s what Steven used to call me. He always said Catalina was too stuffed shirt. “How”—I pause to clear my throat—“how did he get mixed up in this mess?”
Dimitri comes to sit on my other side. “Thomas blackmailed him. Said he’d kill you if Steven didn’t get into the house to spy. Thomas used him to get ahold of Talia. He nearly killed her in a warehouse fire. Had planned to rape her along with another man and video it, leaving it for Castiel to see.”
These men are so hard. Cunning. Yet, they choose to comfort me in my time of distress. It’s hard to find fault in them when they only portray a cold exterior.
“Where is he now, Manning?” Atticus stands, stepping between my legs where I’m sitting on the table. Cradling the back of my head, he soothingly pets me, and I embrace the comfort he offers.
“There’s an abandoned hunter’s shack about six miles northeast of here, higher in the mountains. Some hunters have noticed a bit of activity up that way.” Manning hops from foot to foot as he explains his assumptions.
“Dimitri and Daniel will go with you,” Atticus informs.
“What are you going to be doing?” Daniel queries as he stands.
A cold smirk crosses Atticus’ face, and when I see him wince, I hug myself tighter to his legs.
“Getting creative with explosives.”
Thomas
It’s too bad the RPG didn’t take the asshole out. Seeing the bitch weep over Atticus’ injured form was far more amusing than I had anticipated.
Catalina shouldn’t have lived longer than she was in our mother’s womb.
The slut ran before Tim and I could destroy them. Rumors were floating around that the woman had cheated on our father and after seeing the bastard child up close now, I’m positive she doesn’t share the McCray clan blood.
Her life won’t last much longer, though. Taking over the Adair Empire hasn’t been as easy as I initially anticipated. First losing Timothy and then the Anderssons set me back and forced me to reassess my plans for the future.
Catalina was going to be my final shaft to the mother who thought she deserved better than the life she was chosen for.
Seeing that one of these bastards has fallen for the whore makes my plan all the sweeter. Catalina won’t be leaving this mountain with breath in her body. And Atticus, the rotten rat, I should have ordered his death six months ago when he got in the way of our capture of Lilith.
Now, he’ll suffer in a much more agonizing way.
Catalina’s death in his arms will be my ultimate revenge.