Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
My heart shattered for what she had been through… was still going through.
“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ISAIAH,” Flame continued to scream. Then his voice weakened, forcing my heart to twist into a tight knot. “He’s good. They bit him, but he’s good. Not evil. Not like me. He can’t be evil too…” I followed the sound of Flame’s voice to a heavily wooded area. I locked eyes with Hush and Cowboy. Their eyes appeared sad as I passed them by. I steeled my nerves for what I would find. One by one, the Hangmen, who hovered near the tree line, looked at me with sadness and concern—Beau, Tanner, Bull, Tank… I inhaled a fortifying breath, and then turned slowly. Blood drained from my face at the sight that greeted me. Consciously, my hands covered my mouth and I felt my heart echo the cutting pain that burrowed in my soul.
“Flame,” I whispered, then cast my eyes to the tree beside him. “Asher…”
Asher’s dark gaze caught mine. “Madds,” he slurred. My eyes tracked down his shirtless body. He was covered in blood. Covered in knife wounds and pierced by dual holes all over his body. His cheeks were pale, and his eyes were half-lidded, as though he had been drugged. “Maddie… help him…” Asher whispered. His head rolled in the direction of Flame. He fought for consciousness, but I detected desperation in his eyes. Even through his own pain, he petitioned me to aid Flame.
Flame.
I could not look in his direction for fear of falling apart. I closed my eyes and drew in another deep breath. I had to. I had to face this. You have faced difficult trials before, I reminded myself. My own trials I could defeat, I had the will to triumph. But when it came to Flame, when it came to the other half of my soul…
“Please…” The pained broken voice I knew and loved endlessly spoke directly to my heart. Lifting my head, I forced myself to bear witness to my husband. I silenced a threatening sob from escaping my mouth as I cast my attention upon him. My legs shook. I was thankful to feel a supportive hand on my back, helping me to remain standing when I felt like crumpling onto the ground. Bella, I recognized her touch. She was still with me. “Please…” I heard again, a mere whisper in the silent forest. Flame’s tortured eyes met my own. His face was pale and his body… I blinked, trying to stave off the tears and sorrow I felt roaring through my very being. The low and rasped timbre of his voice vibrated through my chest, the cry for help taking root within my soul. He recognized me. Even through this, he recognized me as his.
“Flame,” I said and moved toward him, body trembling, weak from shock. In my peripheral vision I saw AK and Viking close by. I felt their eyes upon me as I approached my husband. The closer I got to Flame, the more his injuries were revealed to my searching gaze. His skin was covered in blood—some I could see was not his own. As with Asher, I observed the knife slices to Flame’s flesh and the dual holes that pierced his already scarred skin. In empathy, I felt teardrops trickle down my cheek. But no matter how strong I endeavored to be, seeing my husband and my Asher this way, defeat and fear in both their gazes, destroyed me.
Thick ropes kept Flame and Asher bound to their respective trees. Flame’s black hair was wet with blood and it fell over his eyes. AK tried to approach Flame; hands held high in surrender. But Flame’s eyes switched from pleading to vengeful in a split second. “Don’t,” he snarled at AK. “Don’t fucking come near me.”
AK stepped back and resumed his position beside Viking. Viking placed his hand on AK’s shoulder in support. AK turned to me, anguish written all over his face. “He won’t let us cut them down.” AK edged closer to where I stood, speaking softly so only I could hear. He ran his hand over his cheeks. I knew him to do this when he was concerned. “He keeps referring to Ash as Isaiah.”
My eyes closed, then I glanced to Flame. His lost eyes were roving over the Hangmen, as though he did not know who they were. He was completely lost. Even surrounded by his family and the people who loved him most, Flame had regressed to become the lost little boy I had met once before. The one trapped in the eternal hell of his abusive childhood. The frightened little boy whose poppa hurt him, and whose little brother had tragically died in his arms. Cradling my bump, I knew why this had occurred. Our baby… our baby had forced Flame to relive the death of his baby brother, and the cruel circumstances surrounding the loss.