Page 12 of A Thousand Cuts

“The scarf is safe,” Fix said. “Liam, can I—”

“Thank you.” Liam walked over to his sewing desk with King at his heel and took a dented tin full of buttons out of a drawer.

He dug around until he pulled out a small wad of cash and thrust it into Fix’s hands.

“I think that should be enough,” Liam said. Fix looked like he was about to argue again, so he pointedly cut him off. “Have a nice rest of the day.”

With a final look into Liam’s eyes, Fix saw himself out of his apartment.

And his life.

Liam didn’t know why that thought made him want to curl up and cry.

Chapter 3

Fix

Fix drove on autopilot.

He went to bed with Liam on his mind and realized his memory had done him no justice. He’d remembered him as pretty, but Liam was stunning. Heavy-lidded green eyes had looked at him with so much emotion. Fix had picked out fear, resentment, hope, and defiance. He’d seen it in the set of his soft jaw, the scrunch of his small nose, and the purse of those pouty lips as he did his best to send Fix away.

Fix went, and with everything he had seen and heard, he slept for shit. Liam wasn’t safe there. He wasn’t happy there. It ate away at Fix.

The lock on his fucking building was barely holding it together; anyone had access to him. Anyone could come in and curse him. Find him. Touch him. Anyone could hurt him.

And the curses. Multiple curses he’d been living with for however long. Curses he couldn’t afford to have broken. Not until one got too dangerous. He wouldn’t let Fix help because he couldn’t pay for it. As if Fix wouldn’t level the whole damn town if it meant Liam was safe and happy.

He could recognize this feeling, this raging need to justify his chosen name. It was always at a low hum, guiding him through the world as he tried to make a difference, but it had been years since it had flared up this strong.

Only six times in his life.

Every time, the person who’d woken it up had ended up being tied to Fix with bonds that couldn’t be broken. First his brothers and Taylor.

Now Liam.

Despite everything Hart had told him about the reasoning behind it, he was still unable to control it. When Fix latched on, he latched on hard. Wren called it imprinting. Hart argued it only happened with animals. Fix felt both of them were right.

His phone rang, snapping him out of his thoughts for a split second.

“Hello?”

“I moved the gerbils,” Wren said in lieu of a greeting.

“Oh.” Fix swallowed the negativity to pay attention to Wren. Wren needed to be heard and seen. Fix knew that and he’d give it to him every time. “Where did they go?”

There was a rustle and a chirp from Blu in the background. “I built them a little thing out back.”

Fix frowned. “Out back…of our house?”

Wren paused for a moment before humming. “Hart said I could.”

Despite everything, Fix found himself chuckling. “Does Hart know he said you could?”

Wren had a wiggly way of asking for things.

“He said yes,” Wren assured him, sounding about as convincing as Ash did next to any sort of open flame.

“Okay.” Fix shook his head, deciding to sit this one out. “I guess that’s Hart’s business then.”