Page 24 of Beautifully Shattered (Secrets & Scars #3)

T his man… He’s wearing a Rebel’s cut. Did he just shoot his own guy?

“Stay back!” Jols pants, stepping up beside me, with Ringo and JD quickly flanking us as the man quickly holds his hands up in surrender.

“Don’t shoot. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Dude, did you just shoot your own man?” JD asks what I’d been thinking, and the man shrugs, taking a step back.

“I’m not who they think I am.”

“And who the fuck are you?” Ringo snarls, stepping forward, zero fear in his stance.

“I’m friend, not foe.”

“Yet you wear a Rebel’s patch,” Ringo hisses, pointing to the logo stitched onto the cut he’s wearing.

The man doesn’t even flinch. “Like I said. I’m not who they think I am.”

My eyes narrow, his words turning over in my head.

“Are you undercover or something?” I ask, and he breathes out hard, frustration flickering behind his calm.

“Look, I can’t tell you who I am, but I won’t stop you. Just go.”

JD and Ringo exchange a weary glance before the man speaks again.

“Before you go, someone’s gotta knock me out.” His lips kick up in a smirk. “Gotta make it look real.”

Ringo smirks, quickly closing the distance before pulling back and slamming his fist into the man’s face.

The guy drops hard, out cold before he even hits the ground, and Ringo crouches and fishes through his pockets, pulling out his wallet and flipping it open.

“Blake Moore,” he reads the name on his identification, taking out his phone and taking a picture of it.

“Never heard of him,” JD mutters, stepping up beside Ringo to stare down at the man.

“Hey, you alright?” Jols’ voice pulls my attention away from the men, and I nod, not entirely sure that I am.

“I kind of feel numb.”

Ringo shoves Blake’s wallet back into his pocket and turns to me, his eyes scanning over me from head to toe.

God, what must he see?

I can feel the blood coating my skin for the second time in the last eight hours.

He must think I’m a monster.

“Let’s get you back to the safe house.”

My reaction is delayed, my head a mess of images, like freeze-framed horror movie reels, flicking past my eyes.

Blood.

Bone.

Brutality.

I can see my hands inflicting it, but I’m struggling to believe that was really me.

“Angel?” Ringo steps closer, and I nod, glancing over my shoulder to the road where the SUV is still on fire and I can hear gunfire in the distance.

“Is it over?” I ask, turning back to find him right in front of me now.

“For us, it is. Riggs called in reinforcements. There won’t be a Rebel left alive to come after us.”

I swallow hard, bobbing my head.

There’s been so much bloodshed. Too much.

All because of me.

It doesn’t make sense.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” JD mutters, and I catch the worry in his eyes as he takes in the cuts and bruises marking Jols’ face and neck.

I don’t say a word. What is there to say?

They’ve all suffered yet again because of me.

We walk out of the forest, and on the side of the road, I stop to bend down and wipe the blood off my helmet, using the thick patch of grass before fitting it back on.

We mount up in silence, riding off to leave the Marx team behind to clean up the mess, and ten minutes later, we’re pulling into the safe house on Redfield Lake .

By the time Ringo kills the engine and we’ve climbed off the bikes, my rage is back, hot and gnawing at me, my thoughts too dark to speak aloud.

Ripping off my helmet, I shove it into Ringo’s chest. “You should burn this. I killed two men with it.”

His brows shoot up, glancing at Jols for confirmation.

“They never stood a chance,” she says simply, and I turn away, heading up the steps of the cabin.

Before I even reach the top, I stop and spin around, my glare molten as I stare at my three friends.

My fury isn’t aimed at them, though. It’s for my parents and that stupid, bloody church.

“Banes is the one willing to throw around serious cash to catch me, but I’m done running,” I snap, jabbing my thumb into my chest. “No more running.”

“What are you saying, Angel?” Ringo moves to the bottom step, looking up at me.

“I want to go hunting… for him. For all of them.” I clench my fists as I struggle not to scream. “I’m sick of waiting around for other people to find intel on them while I sit here useless. I can’t let more people die while I hide.”

I brace myself, expecting Ringo to push back. For him to shut me down and tell me it’s too dangerous. To tell me he won’t allow it.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he nods.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

My voice is softer now, some of the rage bleeding out of me, now that I know he’s not going to fight me on this .

With that settled, the ache in my chest returns as I steel myself for what has to be done.

I don’t want to. I really don’t. But I have to.

After going to the compound today and experiencing the brotherhood. The grief they shared. And the honour they gave their men… well, it’s time.

“There’s something else I have to do first…” My voice cracks as I speak, and just like that, tears spring to my eyes and my lip quivers.

Climbing the steps, Ringo stops on the one just below mine, his big warm hands framing my face as I stare up at him, his touch working like magic to ground me.

“I know there is, Angel.” His thumb swipes at my falling tears. “Just tell me how I can help.”

Of course, he knows what I’m talking about. I’ve been avoiding it, shutting down every conversation that he tries to start about it. But I can’t keep running from it anymore.

It’s not fair to me… and it’s not fair to Bobbi.

“I don’t know how to organise a funeral.” A sob lurches from my throat, and Ringo pulls me in, his arms wrapping around me, holding me tight.

“I’ll help, Abs. We’ll do it together.”

“Thank you,” I whimper into his chest, fisting his cut, scared he’ll step away and leave me to feel the chill in the air.

But of course he doesn’t. He never leaves me to suffer through this alone. Not even when I point a gun at him.

He’s always there for me.

I really need to start returning the favour.

“Can I…” I pull back, releasing his cut to swipe at my tears, peering up into his whiskey eyes, now lit by the porch light. “I was wo ndering… and you can totally say no if you want… but I’d hoped…”

A warm smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, hidden just behind his beard.

“What is it, Angel? Just ask.”

“I don’t really have any family anymore… and well… you’re my husband. For now, at least. And your family is so lovely. Your mum and sisters…” His brows shoot up, so I stop talking.

“I’m your husband, for now, at least? You planning on leaving me, Angel?”

I shake my head. “I mean, you said after all of this was over that I could divorce you, so I kinda figured that option was open for you, too.”

Before I can blink, Ringo lifts me off the porch, and my legs wrap around his waist on instinct, carrying me up the steps.

“You’re stuck with me, Angel. Actually, fuck that. I take back that statement. There’s no fucking way I’m letting you divorce me when this is over.”

Laughter follows us inside as JD and Jols listen to our exchange, but I pay them zero attention, not able to draw my gaze away from the fierce promise blazing in Ringo’s eyes.

“Now that we’ve sorted that out,” he sighs, “please tell me what you’re trying to ask for.”

Drawing in a steadying breath, I steel myself to say the words.

“Would it be alright if I bury Bobbi under the Jacaranda tree on your property? She doesn't have to be next to Hope… I just… well… I just don’t want Bobbi to be alone.”

Ringo’s eyes glaze over, and he clears his throat before answering. “Say no more, Angel. Of course you can. ”

I swallow the lump that’s lodged in my throat and lean forward, pressing my forehead to his, just like he loves to do with me.

“I love you,” I whisper, and he hugs me closer.

“I fucking love you, too, Angel.”

He closes the distance then, his lips claiming mine, and I melt against him, soaking in the calm he brings me. The rare sense of peace only he has the power to give.

“Uhhh, question,” JD butts in. “If you two start fucking out here in the living room, because it’s a shared space, we can totally stick around and watch, right?”

The low growl that rumbles up Ringo’s throat is what breaks our kiss, and he shoots a glare in JD’s direction.

“If I start fucking my wife anywhere and you or other people are in the fucking room, you all need to fuck right off! Got it?!”

“Except for when you’re spying on us fucking, right?” Jols smirks, poking her tongue out as she strolls past into the kitchen.

A giggle slips from me before I can stop it, and even though I immediately feel guilty for it, I try hard to ignore the feeling clawing at me for having the slightest moment of happiness.

Ringo’s frown softens into a grin at the sound, his eyes roaming my face before he heads for the stairs with me in his arms.

“I’m taking my wife to bed.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” JD huffs. “You’ll yell at me but not Jols. I guess we all know who your favourite is.”

As Ringo climbs the stairs, two at a time, I catch the smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth, yet he doesn’t respond to JD.

He knows exactly how to annoy his best mate .

“Of course I’m his favourite,” Jols snickers from over at the fridge as she grabs a bottle of water and cracks it open. “I’m prettier than you.”

All I hear is a startled squeak from Jols as we reach the first landing, cutting off our view of the living area below. Then the sound of feet pounding on the timber floors follows, and their laughter echoes up to us.

“Fucking hell,” Ringo groans. “They’re gonna fuck on the kitchen table. I just know it.”

I smile at that, and once again, guilt sinks in.

That’s how it’s going to be now. Every little glimpse of happiness will be tangled with grief.

This is my life now, I guess.

Upstairs, we shower quickly before slipping into bed, our bodies finding each other like magnets as we curl together.