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And then I started hyperventilating.
My breath dragged in and out of my lungs like fire. I scrambled away, my hands and knees sliding through blood, eyes locked on my father’s unmoving body like his black soul might rise again.
He wouldn’t. I knew he wouldn’t. But my mind couldn’t catch up.
Only later would I realize the pain on the side of my head was from the graze of Jackson’s first bullet. Just slightly to the side, and it would have been my body on the ground.
I started to cry. Then I started to laugh. Then it devolved into both, and uncontrollable sobs racked out of me.
Everything was hitting me at once—the horror of what I’d done, of what I’d helped do. I did what I had to, and I was relieved my dad was dead.
But… my father was dead.
The truth made me lose the last bit of strength in my limbs.
He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s?—
Before I could collapse into puddles of blood, arms looped under mine and hauled me to my feet, pulling me to a warm, muscled chest.
“I’ve got you, Caroline,” Knox murmured fiercely against my bloody hair, his voice raw. “I’ve got you, baby. I swear to fucking God, I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”
I just kept sobbing like the fucked-up, broken mess I was. I didn’t even fight him from scooping me up bride-style and carrying me somewhere. Suddenly, the fluorescent lights became blinding sunlight. I buried my face in Knox’s shoulder and wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on like he was the only thing keeping me together.
And he was.
I had no one else in my life. Without my father, I was an orphan. I had no attachments to any of the Wolverines—at least, none that I wanted. I had no friends. No allies. No connection.
I heard voices, crunching gravel, and car doors, but I clung to Knox with no intention of letting go unless he pried me away with a crowbar.
I snapped out of a daze when Knox’s lips brushed my neck, murmuring, “Baby, I’m gonna put you down on the truck, okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” was all I could manage, uncurling my fingers one by one to release my grip on him. Everything in me felt numb—but in a prickly, painful way. Like my nerves didn’t know whether to shut off or scream.
Knox set me in the passenger seat of one of the trucks we’d taken to get to this horrible warehouse. The second I settled, the metal buckle touched my hip, and I yelped.
The truck had been sitting out in the sun for who knew how long, and even in March, it baked the cab. It was stiflingly hot and the musty smell made my head spin and I was freaking out.
I scrambled for Knox, rambling nonsense, wanting out, wanting Knox, wanting to get away from all of this and?—
“Care. Care! Calm down, love, please.”
Knox caught my wrists, pulling me almost out of the truck but not letting me flee, standing in the doorway and tucking me against his chest. His one hand massaged my skin where the metal belt burned.
I kept blubbering until Knox put a towel to my face—it made me totally shut down.
“Clean cloth, baby,” Knox said gently. “I need to wipe the blood off, okay?”
“Mm.”
I let him clean me up. I had really gone into shock. I just had to ride the bitch out.
When Knox was done, he tossed the towel and tucked me into the truck, closing the door gently. Somehow, he’d gotten the keys and started the engine, blasting the air-conditioning.
As soon as he sat, I sagged against him, my cheek on his shoulder. I stared at the digital clock on the dash without seeing what the numbers even were. Knox took his hands in mine, massaging the backs with his thumbs in soothing circles. I didn’t think it would work, but eventually, I felt myself returning from an odd, faraway place.
And what made me drop into a stress-induced doze?
Knox’s whisper.