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)
“Flame…” I whispered. This time I failed to hold back the lump clogging my throat. Failed to hold back the tears that visibly betrayed my fear and sorrow for the man I loved most in this world.
“Don’t let them hurt Isaiah,” Flame pleaded me. I heard low murmurs from the Hangmen, as Flame referred to Ash as the brother he had lost. They would not know to whom Flame was referring. His voice was slurred too.
AK must have seen my confusion at Flame’s slurred speech. He flicked his chin at Rider who was approaching with his medical bag. He must have gone back to the van and retrieved it. “Madds,” AK called. I saw anger engulf his face. “They had snakes.” His meaningful stare stilled my body. “They had snakes. The fuckers tied them up and the snakes bit them.” I nodded to show I had heard the information, yet inside, it destroyed my every cell. “It doesn’t look like they were too venomous. Bull has seen their type before, but the sheer number of bites has left them both numb and confused.”
Snakes. Fire. Knives on their arms and bodies. The bad men here had unwittingly amplified Flame’s biggest fears and made them real.
“We need them cut down, so Rider can fix them up,” Viking said. “But the stubborn fucker’s refusing to let us near them.” Viking shook his head. “Even us. He doesn’t recognize his best friends.”
“Please,” Flame begged again, only this time it was quieter, yet laced with more urgency.
“He’s speaking to you, Madds. He knows you. Or at least, he knows he can trust you. We need to get Flame down and get both of them home, then figure out how the fuck to get Flame back. How to get your man back to himself.”
I stepped away from AK and Viking. Styx and Ky were on the other side of Asher, far enough away, I guessed, so as not to upset Flame. Styx nodded to me; his arms crossed over his chest. I walked slowly to the line of trees, heart in my mouth, as I gazed upon my family, both hurt and bleeding. But it was Flame to whom I was compelled to most. He was the most disorientated. The most in need of help. His breath came faster and faster as I approached, his bloodied chest rising up and down as he sucked in quick inhales of breath.
His black gaze met my eyes. I forced myself to smile. “Baby,” I spoke softly gently, so as not to scare him, or give him case to doubt my intentions. “We must cut you down.”
A pain, deep and intense, flashed across his features, contorting his face. My knees almost buckled. “Isaiah came back,” Flame said, appealing to me for help. “He came back. But so did our poppa and Pastor Hughes. They hurt him, Maddie. I got Isaiah back and they hurt him.” Flame’s eyes lowered to the ground. I knew he was reliving some version of hell in his mind, when I saw his muscles begin to twitch and his length begin to harden inside his pants.
“Snakes… they had snakes. They bit him.” Tears tracked in thick rivulets down Flame’s cheeks. “He is good, but the snakes found the devil inside him too. How? He is good. He isn’t evil like me.”
I wiped away tears from my cheeks and edged ever closer. I kept my arms at my sides. I would not touch him. I did not know if he could tolerate being touched right now—even from me. “I see him,” I replied to Flame, and glanced across to Asher. He had been listening intently to us. And my stomach fell on seeing the agony etched on his young face, as Flame spoke of his deceased brother, not Asher who was standing beside him. The brother who had followed Flame into this fight. I had to get them down. Then all would be well. I would make things good again.
I cast a watery smile at Flame. “I am here to help you, Flame. You and Isaiah.” Flame’s shoulder relaxed slightly. “But you must allow us to help you down from the tree. You are hurt.” I smiled at Asher, trying to reassure him everything would be okay. His head fell, averting his gaze from mine. “Let us save Isaiah, Flame.”
Even speaking the words was a dagger strike to my heart. To even speak his fallen brother’s name in such a way made my soul cry out at the injustice of my husband’s plight. At how, even now, he had to deal with the trauma of losing his brother in the tragic way he had. At how Flame had yet to accept that he too was an innocent in this story, the victim of an abusive father who tormented him each and every day of his young life. “Can we save him, Flame? Can we save Isaiah?”