Page 117 of A Thousand Cuts

Didn’t he?

It was hard to judge anymore. All he could see was a knife against a throat he loved. Terror after terror in green eyes.

The seconds ticked on, the person under his hands growing weaker in his struggles.

“Fix?” Liam called shakily. “Daddy?”

Fix let the guy break the surface.

Stumbling back through the water to the edge, Fix panted for breath, dripping as PUMA officers climbed into the fountain to grab the half-drowned man by his arms to cuff him.

Cyrus met him on the other side, face tense. “Good choice. We have it from here, and there’s a medical team on standby outside. We can contain the curses until we can call someone else to come in and break the last of them.”

Fix hardly heard him, climbing over the fountain’s lip with water pouring out around him and slapping onto the already wet floor. He trudged on numb legs toward where Liam was being flanked by two officers. King was lying on a makeshift stretcher, whining but moving. He saw Wren with him and knew he’d be okay.

They locked eyes, and Liam broke away from the officers and didn’t stop until he was buried face-first in his drenched chest. Fix wrapped his arms around him and wasn’t sure if he could ever let go again.

It was finally over.

Chapter 21

Liam

Who knew there were so many things that needed to be done when a criminal was caught? Handcuffs, paperwork, statements and signatures, avoiding the media and the nosy civilians gathered to watch the spectacle.

Liam had fussed over King nonstop until Wren took him to get looked over. Liam wasn’t allowed to go with him, having to stay and give his statement. The only things that comforted him were that Wren was certain there were no major injuries, and Wren’s promise that he’d keep King close and make sure he was pampered and spoiled until Liam could have him back and would text him updates.

By the time they were allowed to leave their clothes had dried uncomfortably stiff on their bodies, sticking to their skin and chilling them to the bone.

Adrenaline crashed hard.

Liam saw it in the little things. Fix avoiding his eyes while they were giving their statements. Fix’s stride being just a bit too fast for Liam to fall into step with. Fix’s hand not reaching out for his as he drove them back to the cursebreaker house.

It felt like an icy veil was settling over Liam as the moments ticked by. Moments in which Fix stared dead ahead, eerily silent. Liam kept quiet too, followed his lead as they got out of the car and into the house.

He walked in front of Fix like the worst episode of his life hadn’t just finished in an explosion of smoke, screams, and horrible decisions. Like he was still stuck in a nightmare with no way out. Like the man who’d caused it all hadn’t been dragged away from him in cuffs.

Liam had been promised he’d never see him again, and yet he still felt like it wasn’t over. The relief still wasn’t settling in. Instead, his legs felt like lead as he dragged them across the threshold to Fix’s room. He felt eyes on him the entire time, like brands on the back of his neck.

He wished it felt the way it usually did when Fix looked at him. Warm and comforting. Like home. But those kind eyes were dark with anger now. Narrowed with barely suppressed rage. Rage at Liam and what he had done. He swallowed the bile in his throat and wrapped his arms around his waist as he walked to the window.

Slowly.

Until there was nowhere left to walk. Until he felt like he had put enough distance between himself and Fix for the anger not to hurt.

He flinched when the door slammed, breaking the suffocating silence. It echoed around the room, rattling the windows, deafening him before settling again. It left him feeling like he was in a vacuum all alone.

He wanted Fix’s arms around him. He wanted his lap. His scent in his nose. His heartbeat in his ear. He wanted Fix to wrap him in safety and keep him there. He had no right to ask for any of it, he knew. He’d fucked up before he even found his place next to Fix.

He should get it over with. Let Fix say what he wanted and then get out of his home. He had no reason to be there anymore.

He squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears from slipping out and took a deep breath before forcing himself to turn around. To face Fix.

He spun in place, reminding himself to really look, to commit Fix to memory. He’d probably leave Slatehollow. Probably never see him again. Desperation settled in, making it hard to breathe.

He’d only just met him. Was that tiny sliver of happiness the only thing life thought he deserved?

Was he that—