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She concluded it was probably a very good thing Tabitha found her, seeing as her internal compass had been thrown off during her desperate run through the trees; she never would’ve found her way back to Serenity’s grounds on her own, or at least, not for a day or two.

By the time they reached the boundary line, Tamsyn was sweating, trembling, exhausted, and on the verge of collapsing. It was surprising to discover how far she’d gone, how far from safety she’d been.

As they headed down toward the club, her heart stuttered every time she caught sight of the men dressed in black. There were so many, some standing guard, some patrolling, as though they weren’t convinced the threat was over. Weapons pointing at the ground, ready to rise the moment the men sensed something amiss.

When she saw the huddle of men gathered around a single spot, her feet broke into a ragged run before her brain caught up. Some of the faces she recognized—Evander, Elias, Fordham—and some she didn’t, but they were all somber. Grim.

She raced toward them, fatigue forgotten as images of Merrick dying on the floor at their feet flashed through her sluggish brain. One frame at a time, in graphic detail. From a gaping gunshot wound in his chest to a slick lake of blood pooling around his body, and every horrible possibility in between.

For the first time, she noticed the body in front of her, just a few feet away from the men. Dismissed like so many of the others in camouflage gear scattered through the trees until someone deigned to drag them onto the growing pile in the forest where they couldn’t be seen.

There wouldn’t be funerals or memorials for the dead; no love lost for the enemy.

But this body… Tamsyn skidded to a halt, her head cocking. The face was nothing but swelling on top of swelling, the flesh misshapen and bruised. Parts of the cheekbones were sunken, likely caved in by the weapon that caused the most damage, and the nose was flattened.

She’d grown up with that jawline though, had stared at that hard profile every day for the whole of her life. The mouth twisted open in an expression of pain and terror had been a source of anguish and shame, a commander of evil and unfairness.

The small portion of unmarred skin carried the gray pallor of death; she’d seen it often enough she recognized it, and the stiffness of his body, for what it truly represented: freedom.

The last living son of one of the community’s founding families was dead.

The man who reigned over all the demons in her life was gone.

His existence snuffed out as painfully and undignified as the women whose bodies occupied the dark, empty chasm at the bottom of the mountain. Hundreds of women and girls, generations of them tossed like trash into a landfill, by him and his ilk.

Instead of grief, there was simply relief.

Jedidiah held no power in her court anymore; Merrick was her Master, her lover, her Dom, her one and only. He was the only thing she needed to be thinking about now, because her father’s demise was justice. Long awaited justice, sweet and bloody.

Tamsyn kicked the body once as her contribution to his violent end, even though one kick to a corpse didn’t make up for anything he’d put her through or what he’d stolen from her. But that swing of her foot, the thud of her sneaker connecting with his ribs, felt glorious after so many years of silent, internal rebellion.

She stepped over him then, leaving him behind as she rushed forward, only to be caught around the waist by a strong arm and dragged to a halt again. “Let me go!”

“Shush, sweetheart.” Fordham pulled her against him as she fought to advance the few steps to where she could see a glimpse of white blond hair at waist height. “Jasper’s doing his best to keep Merrick alive, but we have to give him space to do his job. Are you hurt?”

“I don’t matter, I—” She yelped when a hand smacked her butt sharply.

“Don’t ever say those three words again, Tamsyn.” There was a biting quality to his tone. “You matter tohim. You matter to us, but to Merrick, you’re everything he’s been waiting a lifetime for; you are what he almost died to keep safe. If Jasper can’t stop the bleeding, Merrickwilldie in his effort to save you. So don’t ever let me hear you say you don’t matter again.”

Her indignation at the spank fizzled out.

“I’ll ask again—are you hurt?”

She dropped her chin. “No, Master Fordham. I’m okay.”

“Hmmm.” The note of disapproval hummed through her as he went to lift one of her hands; she curled them into fists to hide the dirty scrapes across the palms from her fall.

“Ford, bring her over here,” Jasper called out before her white lie could be revealed.

“We’ll discuss this later, Tamsyn. I’m not your Dom, but fibbing to me isn’t wise.” Gently, Ford grasped her stronger wrist and led her toward the sadist. “Prepare yourself, okay? I know you’ve seen some shit already, but this is going to hit you where it hurts most.”

How exactly did one prepare herself for something like this? She tried to think what Merrick would tell her to do, how he would calm her down and encourage her to focus on her breathing, on keeping her heartbeat steady.

That wasn’t easy when the first thing she saw when the men parted at her approach was the soft, silver sheen of his hair glinting in the late afternoon sun, and the splatters of blood clinging to the strands.

Her breath caught, hitched, then exploded on a sob when she laid eyes on his face.

Pale and waxy, clammy, but thankfully not the cold gray of death.