Page 97 of Hurt

A sudden weariness dragged on him as he realized the enormity of the mess he needed to clean up. Physically, their organization was in shambles with the loss of its headquarters. They had dead and injured they needed to care for and civilians who needed to be protected. Not to mention families who were vulnerable to attack. He needed to gather all their intel and make sure it was adequately safeguarded from attack.

And that didn’t even take into account finding out how the Vega Cabal managed such an attack and planning retaliation.

As much as he wanted vengeance to be his first step, he knew it couldn’t be. He owed it to his people to keep a cool head and do what was right for them rather than what he wanted to do.

What he wanted to do was rip out every single one of the Vegas ribs and use them to pin the bastards to the wall like rare moths on display.

Crunching tires drew his attention to a black sedan pulling in. He recognized Roland’s car.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with concern.

At a time like this, they shouldn’t be all together in one area. Distance was their best safeguard. If Grant went down, Roland would be able to step in.

There were lines on his face as he cast a glance around the carnage. “How many?”

Grant sighed. “As of now, we’ve lost thirty. Seventeen to the fire and the rest to the attack.”

Roland gritted his teeth so hard Grant could hear the enamel creaking from where he was standing.

“We’ve got fifteen going to the hospital—none of them are in critical condition. The hospital is in our pocket, but I’ve sent guards just in case. Orders to move families and auxiliary personnel to safe homes are on the way. Jamie and Elijah are scouting for survivors. I’ll return to the house—”

“Grant.” Roland so rarely cut him off that it startled him.

He took a moment to study his younger brother. The man looked tired, hardly surprising considering the circumstances. When he stopped to really look at him, though, he noticed the blood stains all over his shirt and a large ugly wound crudely wrapped on his right hand.

“Roland, what happened?” Fear clutched at his heart.

His brother’s expressive eyes blinked at him from an impassive face.

“It’s Kurt.”

The exhaustion disappeared in a moment, and he stepped toward his brother. He forced a shaky breath and tried to read the answers on Roland’s face. A futile task on the best of days but especially useless when they were both so frazzled.

In the chaos of the massacre, he hadn’t thought of the man. Last he saw, Kurt had been safe at The Sunspot. They had kissed. It was a high he had been riding until the call from Wallace earlier in the afternoon.

He waited for his brother to speak, but he looked like he was hesitating.

For the first time in his life, Grant finally understood why people were so impatient with Roland’s silence.

“It’s bad,” he said after a long pause. “He tried to kill himself.”

Grant shook his head, sure that the smoke in the air was causing him to hear things. He reached out and laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder and held his stare.

“I don’t know the full story,” Roland disclosed reluctantly. “But it seems sometime last night he was…assaulted.”

Grant didn’t think he could form words. Assaulted last night…that meant after he left?

He staggered back and leaned up against a car. Sometimes, while he was driving away, grinning like an idiot, Kurt was being hurt. He was being attacked, and Grant wasn’t there to protect him.

Grant had given him his hand and promised…

‘I didn’t survive this long believing in the impossible.’

Kurt had said that, and Grant had sworn he would make it right.

“Where is he?”

Roland almost recoiled at the ice in his voice. “Your house. I called Dr. Edil to come look at him.”