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“It’s over, Caroline. It’s over. We’re free.”
* * *
When I came to, it was hours later—a dusky blue and purple evening. The AC had been turned off, a blanket was draped over my legs, and a leather coat was over my chest. Knox was snoring softly beside me. The truck was still running, trembling slightly beneath and around us.
My brain registered it all slowly, rather than in a split second, as if I wasn’t completely traumatized.
I tested my limbs and digits, trying to remember how many of each I had. After that, I had just enough strength to stretch from being curled up in the seat for so long—and flinch when all my injuries I’d sustained over the past week protested.
A strangled whimper escaped my lips, and Knox was awake instantly, checking me over like a mother hen.
“Care. You okay? Where’s it hurt? I got bandages. Talk to me, baby girl. You with me?”
I nodded. I didn’t trust my voice yet.
Knox settled, sighing, pulling me flush against him. “Okay. I got you. Anything you need, I’ll get it.”
I bit my lip so hard it hurt. My throat burned with restrained tears. Knox held me tighter, but not enough to break me. Just tightly enough to hold me together.
“Nate.”
Knox kissed my temple. “Yeah?”
“Please don’t let me fall apart.”
His breath hitched, and he was quiet for a long moment, then whispered so gently I started crying, “I found you once, Caroline. I’ll keep finding you every time you get lost.”
I didn’t care how weak I looked or sounded. I didn’t care who saw or heard me. With Walter Bates gone, I didn’t have to be strong all the time anymore. It would be a tough habit to break—damn near impossible—but I was willing to work on it as long as Knox was my sponsor in creating the “new me.” All that mattered was the process of healing.
It was nearly ten at night by the time I was able to dredge up a passable mask of composure to face the Devils and remaining Wolverines who had stayed—whether willingly or not.
Knox tried to convince me to continue resting. “You don’t have to do this yet, Care.”
I tied my hair back into a loose bun—the opposite of the severe ponytail I had worn for years. “No. This needs to be over and done with once and for all.”
“Okay. I’m right behind you.”
We returned to the warehouse floor, where it looked like the aftermath of a war zone. Wolverine bodies were stacked like firewood by the garage door, which had been shut. The Wolverines who were still alive huddled against the far wall, not talking, just existing, waiting for judgment.
The Devils were clustered together in the area least affected by blood and death, Brody still fussing over his brothers’ patched-up wounds. But they were all there—Jackson, Mason, Jameson, Abel, Grant, and Brody. Beaten but victorious.
When the doctor saw us approach, he immediately wanted to look me over. I let him. Jackson and Mason sat beside each other and looked up with the same neutral expression.
One thing I didn’t need to dredge up was raw, soft honesty—if quite blunt.
“Thank you.”
Abel barked a laugh, shattering the awkward silence. “Damn, girl, don’t get too wordy.”
To my complete surprise, the other Devils chuckled—Grant, Mason, and Jackson not as much, but I didn’t blame them. They were all exhausted, mentally and physically. They had all been trying to kill Walter Bates for a long-ass time. Now that he was dead?
The biggest question of all: what now?
“Thank you for what?” Jackson asked.
“Killing the biggest threat to Reno it’s ever seen. For not killing me.”
Jackson grunted and scrubbed roughly at his face with his palms. “Yeah. Just disperse these fuckers so I can get back to my baby mama.”