Page 2 of Day Death (Brutes of Bristlebrook Trilogy)

Dominic

N aval Base Kitsap. Whiteman Air Force Base. Camp David... ”

Jayk’s right on my heels as I storm inside, already pulling out my satellite phone. The familiar names crawl out of the speakers in a dead, droning recitation. Around the room, every face is bone white and wide-eyed as they stare and stare.

I’m braced for the strike, but the words “EMERGENCY brOADCAST SYSTEM” still catch me under the ribs.

Jayk snorts as he eyes my phone, though the set of his jaw is grim. “You kept the sat phone? Colonel Daddy will have your ass.”

“Who do you think told me to take it?”

“. . . Jim Creek Naval Radio Station . . . ”

I hit speed dial on my old man’s number, my gut tightening. They haven’t listed our base yet, so there’s a chance it’s fine. There are plenty of locations they’ll want to hit before ours—it might not be on the strike list at all, depending on how many warheads were mobilized. This is bad, but we can fix it. We’ll get our orders, get loaded up, and we’ll get on this thing.

The call rings out.

“ Fuck !”

I glare down at the screen to see thirteen voicemails. I’ve only been at the club for a few hours. They’re recent.

I open the first message from an unknown number.

This is a message from the Federal Emergency Management Agency: nuclear detonations have occurred in multiple locations across the country. To protect yourself and your family, get inside, stay inside, and stay tuned for more information. Move to the lowest level and most interior portion of the building if possible. Follow instructions from officials—this can save your life. Martial law is now in place.

My head starts to pound, but it’s my war drum. It focuses me. That sharp, bursting adrenaline—that fear —strips away all the messy thoughts and leaves only the problem.

If this is what I think it is, then our asses need to get into gear fast.

“. . . VLF Transmitter Cutler . . .”

“What are we doing? Are we heading back to base?” Lucky pops up beside my shoulder like a whack-a-mole, buckling his belt. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes a little glassy. He’s been riding a high, and he’s still coming down.

Of the 75 th Ranger Regiment, we only have Third Battalion currently at our base, and of my company—Delta Company—only Jayk, Lucky, and Thomas are here at the club. The rest are either on base or off duty as well, and none of our off-duty guys have sat phones. No way for me to contact them. That thought stutters through my focus.

Beau doesn’t have a sat phone.

The war drum in my head grows louder, but it struggles to beat the new worry down.

“ . . . Houston. Atlanta. Los Angeles . . .”

Lucky freezes, then his head snaps up to the screen.

Fuck.

His family is from Los Angeles.

Sympathy bites at me, but I smother it. We’re not grieving today. This is an active situation, and we’re not wasting time worrying about things we can’t change. He needs to hurt over this later.

“Lock it down, Lucky.”

I clap his shoulder and squeeze it to soften the words, but I find my eyes drifting back up to the emergency broadcast as the names keep coming through the speakers in quick-fire blows. I’ve seen a lot of shit since I enlisted, but this is different.

“. . . Kings Bay Naval Base . . . ”

Uppercut.

“. . . Kirtland Air Force Base . . . ”

Kidney shot.

“. . . Washington D.C. . . . ”

A scream rips apart the stricken silence, and the crowd bursts apart like a flock startled into flight.

Hallie backs up, her play bag hanging off one shoulder. “ No . My brother— He just had a baby. I can’t...”

She looks at me, and her lips are bloodless. Hallie’s a domme. Been at the club for longer than I have. Beau tried to flirt with her on our first day and she threatened to lock him in a cock cage if he couldn’t keep it in his pants. Hallie doesn’t take shit, and she’s not easy to ruffle.

Beau had better be okay. He’s with his parents—his whole family are together for Brooke’s birthday. No, they’re okay. They’re far enough out from major cities. They’ll be okay.

“They’re hitting cities, too?”

“Is your phone working?”

“No signal.”

“My brotheris in Washington!”

“The radio just has the same message.”

“This is a joke, right? Like a War of the Worlds thing?”

Reception is spotty in the club. It’s too remote for reliable coverage, but suddenly there are dozens of screens flashing around the room. Everyone’s dialing and clutching their cells to their faces like they’re oxygen masks and no one’s catching air. The hum of the crowd rises to a frantic pitch and it’s hard to make out the broadcast.

“Cell network’s out,” Jayk mutters, sounding resigned. He checks his phone. “Internet too.”

No shit. They were always going to be an early target. This sat phone will be worth its weight in gold soon, even if it’ll only connect to other sat phones.

Even though it won’t connect me to Beau.

God damn it. He’ll go back to base. He’s not an idiot. He’ll meet us there.

“I heard Los Angeles.” Jasper strides up, anxiously stroking the vicious blacksnake secured at his hip. His eyes are locked on Lucky, and the small lines at their corners are deep and tense.

I’d heard Jasper was roped into giving a whipping demonstration tonight, but it’s still a surprise to see him. He’s been AWOL since he retired as our shrink six months ago—at the tender age of thirty-eight, not that we’re allowed to question that fucking fact.

“I’m so sorry, Lucien,” Jasper says softly.

Lucky blinks, a small frown marring his forehead. He tears his gaze away from the broadcast and looks at Jasper, his face pale and his blue eyes blown dark.

Hugh, one of the subs who had been in the hunt, shoves off his dom and throws his phone to the side with a vicious, choked curse. Thomas comes up beside them, talking with coaxing hands. Someone storms past him, toward the door, and he throws me an urgent look, wanting orders.

I slash a hand signal at him. Deal with it .

Someone starts crying behind me, and the war drum beats , beats , beats in my head.

“Everyone stay put!” I bellow, and a handful of civs skitter away from me.

Sure, like I’m what they need to be scared of right now. I glare at them, and uneasiness grips my gut when more people head to the doors.

I flick through my voicemails quickly, opening the last one from the colonel.

From my dad.

“Captain Slade, we have Code Alpha. Martial law is in place, and it’s already a shitshow out there, so prioritize speed. Bring civs if you have to but I need your team back at base yesterday. This is going to get rough.” There’s a pause, and my dad’s voice turns gruff. “Mentally alert, physically strong, and morally straight, son. Rangers lead the way.”

There’s a beat of silence as I stare at my phone.

“Well ain’t that cute. You two ever speak normally? Or do you just recite the fucking creed back at each other and call it a day?” Jayk’s voice is too shaky to hold the snark, and he’s staring at my phone like it just bit him.

Of course he’s rattled. You don’t hear Code Alpha and not be ready to shit your pants, I don’t care how trained you are. Code Alpha isn’t life changing.

It’s world shattering.

“. . . NORAD Peterson Space Force Base . . . ”

I fucking knew it. This isn’t a broadcast. It’s an obituary.

Gritting my teeth, I hit the speed dial again, but nothing.

My thumb strokes over the screen as I tuck the phone away and ignore Jayk. He doesn’t get it; his dad is a piece of shit. Mine might be one of the few people who can pull our asses out of this fire. I don’t need him to write me a poem. I need him to do his job, just like he needs us to do ours.

I fix our group with a hard look. “We need to get these civs mobile. If they wander into a blast site looking for their families, they’re dead. We need to take control of this. Are you good?”

Lucky’s bruised eyes are still on Jasper. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Lucien,” Jasper scolds, and I shoot him an impatient glare. He can save the tender loving shit for later.

The tendons in Lucky’s throat grow taut, but a forced smile tugs his lips up on one side. “Don’t worry about it. My parents were just talking about hitting the road. I doubt they’re even there. I’m good. You want me to take the door? How are we doing this?”

“. . . Strategic Command, Offutt Air Force Base . . . ”

Fuck. That one’s a big problem. That, with the others? That’s our highest order decision-making gone. My old man really is going to need backup.

There’s a loud crash. Damn it, someone’s rifling through the bar.

Distracted, urgency beating through me, I eye Lucky. His folks are always talking about traveling. Starting up with a mobile show.

As far as I know, they’ve never even left California.

Jasper shakes his head. “Perhaps we should?—”

“He said he’s fine, Jasper.” I wait until Lucky glances at me, then hold his gaze. “His folks are traveling.”

The look Jasper gives me is frigid. Lethal.

I ignore him. “Lucky, get Thomas and take the door. Don’t let anyone leave. Jayk, you’re backup. I’m about to give these folks some shitty news.”

Lucky rolls his shoulders, and I see him switch from civ to soldier. “You want me to stop people leaving?” One brow kicks up. “You sure about that, Cap?”

Nope.

Beau would be my usual compass check on shit like this.

But Beau isn’t fucking here .

“They can’t go off half-cocked looking for their people,” I say instead, as the drum becomes a sledgehammer inside my skull. “We get them to an evacuation zone or back to base. They don’t get a choice. Not this time. I’ll knot them in every rope we have here and haul them out if I need to.”

“. . . Minot Air Force Base . . .”

Jasper sighs beside me. “Fine, Dominic. What would you have me do?”

Jasper? I look at him in surprise. What can Jasper do? I respect his work, but it means nothing to me in this situation. Still, he’s keeping his head. He’s not begging me to try to call his parents.

Or his wife.

“Help Jaykob,” I say vaguely, already turning toward the wide bar. Braydon freezes, his hand still gripping the vodka. He has two more bottles under his arm, but I ignore him, climbing up onto the polished wood until I’m standing under the emergency broadcast screens.

No one looks up.

Jaykob and Jasper position themselves by my feet, and Thomas nods at me from the front door, manning it with Lucky.

Between me and them, the crowd swarms like panicked ants. Cries and snippets of anxious conversations pummel me.

“Did you hear Boston? I have a second home in Boston, maybe I can go there.”

“Are we getting invaded?”

“Do you think it was?—”

I put the whistle I had for the hunt between my lips and blow. The piercing shriek cuts through the room over and over until I finally get eyes on me.

“I need you all to shut up and listen,” I snap.

“Easy,” Jasper murmurs, and I try not to grind my teeth.

They’re not soldiers, but they are subbies. Doms.

They can take some damn orders.

“ . . . VLF Transmitter Lualualei . . .”

“Most of you know me as Master Dom, but outside Darkside, I’m Captain Slade, head of Delta Company in the 75th Ranger Regiment of the United States Army Special Operations Command.”

I look over the stressed faces staring up at me. I know most of them. I’ve dommed some of them.

With Beau .

“We’ve been hit in multiple locations and have no intel at this stage of where, or if, we might be hit next. Everyone pack your things. Make sure you have transportable water, warm clothes, blankets, and whatever food, tools, and weapons you can find. We’re going to the evacuation center near our base—our people will take care of you there.”

Silence.

Done. I bend to get down when they surge forward.

“The hell I’m going anywhere with you. My daughter is at home!”

“Can you really keep us safe?”

“The emergency message said to stay inside and wait for instructions.”

“ . . . Malmstrom Air Force Base . . .”

Fuck fuck fuck . Why is the public prep around a ballistic attack so fucking non-existent?

I blow my whistle again, but only half of them are paying attention to me now. People are turning, crowding Lucky and Thomas.

“These are your instructions,” I thunder down at them. They have to hear me on this. This is life or death for them. “The nearest city is hours away. We had no physical sign of a disturbance here. We’re most likely outside a fallout zone, and we don’t have the supplies to go to ground here. We move while we can—and we stay out of those strike locations. If your people were there, then they’re either dead or they need to find their own way. The sooner you accept that, the more likely you are to survive.”

Jasper sighs, then mutters, “Very tactful.”

Jason, a big dom I’ve had over for barbecue before, flips me off. “Go fuck yourself, Dom, how about that?”

“You need to start thinking , asshole,” I snap back.

The crowd surges again, and someone lunges at Lucky. Thomas covers him, tossing the guy back easily, but two more fill his place.

Damn it, they’re not listening. Why aren’t they listening ? Don’t they have any sense of self-preservation? They need to switch it off.

Uncertainty eats at my resolve as Lucky grimaces, pushing Greg back. He’s fucked Greg before. He’s fucked Greg before and now he has to fight him?

Clusters are holding back. Pockets of people are crying. Some are angry. Some are gathering shit up like it’s a fire sale. These people are scared shitless.

Lucky gives me a questioning look, his face red with strain.

Am I really prepared to use force against civilians , even to keep them safe? Martial law or not, this isn’t sitting right. Beau would have a problem with this.

“You want me up front?” Jayk asks.

My stomach drops, and I hesitate. I linger on Hallie’s red-rimmed eyes as she shoves at Thomas.

No. I’m not using force against these people. Darkside is all about choice, and they have the right to choose their fate. Even if it’s stupid. Even if they’re emotional . Something rips in me.

Even if it means their life.

“. . . Robins Air Force Base . . . ”

Voices lift into a deafening shout, cutting off the last name, but my head snaps up anyway. I can’t see the screen. I jump down and back up, though I know the image hasn’t changed.

Blood pulses in my head, and the war drum staggers, loses its rhythm.

Not there. Robins is less than twenty miles from Mama Bennett’s farm. With these nukes, that blast radius...

Jayk’s hand grips my shoulder. “Hey, how far are we taking this? They’re losing their shit.”

My lips are numb. “They would have been fried.”

Jayk gives me a strange look. The room is a whirling mix of color and sound.

Beau is dead .

“Lucien and Thomas are getting overwhelmed, Dominic. Make a decision. Now.” Jasper’s voice is cold. Curt.

I rub my forehead. Right. There’s a problem here. We process later. We grieve later .

I try to think, but for some reason, Beau is in my head, grinning and flipping me off as he got into his truck. He held it outside the window as he drove off.

Clearing my throat, I manage, “The ones who want to go can leave. Tell them.. .”

I frown. I can’t even remember what Beau flipped me off for.

“What happened? Why is he like this?”

“Fuck if I know. Shit, Thomas is down.”

It was only three days ago. Why can’t I remember ?

“Enough,” Jasper hisses.

Stepping forward, he uncoils the blacksnake from his forearm. He pivots away from the crowd. Lifting his arm in a villainous flourish, he snaps the whip in a cruel crack that thunders through the room. The crowd shrieks, rearing back, and he cracks it again.

“Lucien, move aside. Let them go,” Jasper orders into the abrupt, shocked lull.

The room focuses enough for me to see Lucky’s blond buzz cut catch the light as he drags a bleeding Thomas away from the door. I watch vaguely as dozens of people pour through the front door.

Dozens of people who are probably going to die.

Just like Beau .

I feel sick to my stomach. It’s a cold, roiling nausea that’s never hit me in an active situation before. But Beau is dead, and it doesn’t make sense.

How can he be dead? He’s the other half of my whole fucking soul. The good half. He can’t just be gone .

Maybe two dozen people stay inside. There’s too much shouting and crying, and we don’t have time for it. I know that. You don’t make captain by crying over every dead soldier, especially lately. Especially while things are still so hot. There’s shit to do.

If Beau’s dead, that’s just bad fucking luck.

“We have to get supplies. Anything we can use,” I say, looking up at Jayk and Jasper.

Only Jasper isn’t here. He’s over with Lucky, pressing a handkerchief against Thomas’s bleeding brow.

When did he move?

Jayk is still staring at me.

“Are you deaf? We need supplies.” I shoulder past him, not sure where I’m going.

My war drum is gone, and I’ve lost my rhythm, but I don’t need it. I’ll figure it out. It’s what I’m trained for.

The rest of the room is still so dizzy and too fucking loud, but I see one of the subbies curled up under the bar. Curled up like the small lip of wood will protect him. His black-painted nails are buried in his blue hair and sobs wrack his body.

He’s still got his purple newbie band.

My own throat burns.

“Don’t cry about it. Get up,” I tell him roughly, my voice coming out too thick.

The kid curls in tighter on himself, and I kneel down beside him. I’m not failing this one too. There won’t be any more obituaries walking out that door. “Come on, kid. I don’t get to cry about it, you don’t get to cry. We act. We move .”

I remember my dad telling me that.

I can do this. Mentally alert, physically strong, morally straight. Rangers lead the way. I can do this.

Someone hauls me back by my collar, and I swing around fists first, adrenaline snapping through me. Jayk grunts as my knuckles collide with his thick abs, but he keeps dragging me with him, and I stop fighting him. It’s only Jayk. I do curse him all the way out the door, though.

He throws me into the now almost deserted parking lot.

“What the fuck was that?” Gravel crunches under my feet and the night breeze catches against my cheeks. My wet cheeks.

I bring a hand up to touch one, and my calluses are rough over the dampness.

Why can’t I remember why Beau flipped me off?

Jayk crosses heavy, tatted arms over his chest. His dark blue eyes are almost black in the midnight shadows.

Out here, the night’s silence is suffocating.

“Do you think he felt it?” I whisper.

He frowns at me. “Who felt what?”

Something drips off my chin.

“Do you think Beau felt it when he got nuked?” Beau’s a baby about burns. He bitched for a week when he scalded his tongue.

Radiation’s meant to burn. Bad.

I grip the back of my neck, and my breath comes in trembling. “I really hope he didn’t feel it, you know?”

“Beau was caught in it?” Jayk asks sharply, but I don’t think I can answer. It’s suddenly hard to breathe.

I bend over and brace my hands on my knees as everything spins.

Jayk is silent for a long minute. “We’ll get the civs ready to move, Dom. Just.. . take a beat. Come back in when your head’s straight.” His voice is heavy, and softer than I’m used to when he adds, “Cry about it. You get to.”

I hear the crunch as he walks away, and my chest heaves. I think it splits in two. I don’t know how to do this. Take a minute? What the fuck is a minute going to do? He’s my whole life.

The road swirls under me.

What will I do with our apartment? It’s too big for one person, and he has so much shit there. Beau’s a goddamned hoarder. He likes knickknacks. Nobody likes knickknacks before they’re eighty.

My shoulders start shaking, and I sit my ass in the gravel before I fall over. The moon glazes everything a hot, blurry silver. I squeeze a hand over my face but it does nothing.

An alpha strike wasn’t meant to be possible—not here, not on our turf. It’s the whole reason we do this fucking job. I know it’s been getting worse, so much goddamn worse, but the level of coordination, the infrastructure, the fucking balls ... it shouldn’t have been possible.

I’ve lost soldier after soldier these last five years, but Beau’s been at my side for every funeral. Every time we talk to their mamas after. It’s him I tip to every time we drink in their memory.

There’s not enough booze in the world to honor Beau.

I wrap into myself and cry.

A car starts rolling up toward Darkside, and I only bother to look up when it parks right in front of me. Here and now, this remote? It’s only going to be another member. A civ from earlier changing their mind, maybe.

But when I see the cherry red pickup, I decide I’m hallucinating.

Slowly, I get to my feet, staring. I’m half-frozen, like someone’s about to swing a camera in front of my face and call it all off as a shitty joke.

The driver-side window rolls down.

“. . . Beau?” I say shakily.

He waves his hand at me but doesn’t look over. “Shh, shh. Just keep your pie hole stuffed shut. I didn’t take every backroad over Georgia today only to miss how this ends.”

I follow his gaze to his phone, which he’s plucked from the console beside him. His favorite podcast winks up at me— Greatest Unsolved Mysteries: The Truths No One Wants You to Know. He always downloads episodes when he’s traveling.

Beau’s tanned from days lounging on his mama’s porch, loose and relaxed and clearly without a clue about what’s gone down over the last few hours.

Because he’s been listening to a fucking podcast ?

“... and while science may never confirm what really happened that night, we at GUM believe these facts speak for themselves.”

Beau claps his hand against the steering wheel. “They did it again! I really don’t know how they keep convincing me science is bullshit and yet here we are. I do want to think the faeries took that whole town, Dom. So that’s what I’m going to believe.”

Every episode of that stupid podcast is a crime against rational thought.

“You haven’t turned your radio on?” I say incredulously.

He’s here. Is he here? Or did I just have an aneurysm?

Beau finally looks up at me, squinting against the moonlight. “Why would I listen to the radio? It’s only got bad music or bad news, and I’ve got no time for that. The faeries, Dom. I had to know about the faeries.”

“You haven’t checked your phone ?” I demand, my heart thundering. That emergency text went out two hours ago.

My eyes stick on every feature. Every hair and eyelash. Relief detonates inside me in bright, blinding light.

“You know I don’t check my phone while I’m driving, Dom. It’s not safe,” he scolds, then tries to push the door open with a snort. “The signal never works out here anyway. Would you move? Why are you standing so close?”

When it opens, I smell apple pie and heat burns the backs of my eyes again. I grab Beau and yank him out of the car, pulling him into a fierce hug.

“Hey now, I missed you too, buddy,” he says on a laugh, hugging me back.

I can’t reply, so I just squeeze him tighter.

I know this thing between us is different. Weird enough to go on his stupid podcast, maybe. It’s not something I’ve ever had the ability or interest to explain. I don’t want to fuck him. I just want our lives to bleed together until we die.

Until we die together .

He doesn’t get to do that without me.

These fucking tears leak out of me again.

“Dom? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Worry scorches the humor out of his tone, and he eases back.

He studies my face. “Dom, are you...?” His voice hardens with fear. “You tell me what’s happened right now.”

I step back, shaking my head. Now my nausea is settling, a different kind of panic rises. His face is more familiar than my own, and right now his gives me confusion. Unease. He doesn’t know .

How can I tell him his family is dead?

Grief opens up in empty caverns and black holes inside me.

They were my family too.

“Why did you ask about my phone?” He pulls it out again, and it’s the coward’s way, but I don’t have it in me to stop him.

I look away as he reads through the notification. The last one he would have received before comms went down.

“Dom, what is this?” There’s a vulnerable thread through the question this time, and it makes me want to cry all over again.

This is going to break him. Beau loves big. His family loved like that too.

Thirty minutes ago, my responsibilities were everything. There are people inside that club who need me. These attacks could keep coming at any moment. We have a thousand things to do and plan and be . We never have time for these kinds of feelings.

But right now, all I want to do is handle Beau like an eggshell.

“It’s a Code Alpha.” Beau shakes his head, but I talk over the silent protest. “Colonel Slade called it—he’s summoned us to base.”

I never talk around hard truths. That’s Beau’s wheelhouse. I have to give it to him straight, I know I do, especially when he gives me that apprehensive look. I see the growing fear behind his eyes.

He knows me too well.

“Your family...” The rest clogs in my throat.

Beau pulls away from the words, his breathing unsteady, and I step in and grab the back of his neck, pressing our foreheads together. If he has to go through this, then he’s doing it with me right here with him.

Maybe it’ll only hurt half as much if we take the hurt together.

“Robins AFB was a target. It was hit with an ICBM at time unknown today, and it’s on the official list of casualty locations from the most recent national broadcast.”

Beau’s eyes sink closed. “Stop, don’t say it, Dom. Don’t.”

I don’t want to. I’d give limbs to make it not true. But it is, and he has to know.

I hear the front door of the club swing open, and I know we’ve run out of time. A shitstorm is waiting for us out in the real world.

We all need to face reality now.

So I squeeze the back of Beau’s neck like anything I do will make the next words hurt any less... and I blow up my best friend’s world.

“They couldn’t have made it, Beau. Your family isdead.”