Page 51 of Redemption (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #4)

Aly

Soft whines vibrate against my stomach. Midmorning sunlight beams in through a nearby window, the broken yet bright streaks trailing across my closed eyelids.

A heavy pressure lingers at my back, offering the reassurance I need to know that I’m not waking up alone in a strange place.

But none of those sensations pull at my awareness like the echoed malevolence growling against the outer walls.

I jerk awake, eyes wide and heart pounding at the familiar, bone-chilling noise as I turn to Darius seated on the edge of the bed.

He lifts a hand, his open palm facing me with a steady indication.

His other hand lifts to his lips, one finger poised against his mouth as he studies the horrors that await just outside.

Bending over me, he brushes his lips near my ear and, in hushed tones, whispers, “We must have left a trail. They’ve been here for over an hour now. Dozens of them surround the place, so try not to make any abrupt sounds.”

A trail.

A fucking blood trail.

My blood.

Shit.

I glance around the room, noting the two mostly darkened windows.

Darius, at some point while I was sleeping, quietly secured the room, placing dressers and tables against the fragile glass.

From what I gather, it’s been sufficient enough to keep the threat from crashing in.

But with the house surrounded, that also means we can’t get out.

We’re trapped.

I gasp as our eyes meet, but I don’t have to say anything for Darius to know exactly what I need.

He lifts my hand and places it between his two much larger ones.

The heat radiating off his palms is enough to soothe my overexerted mind, but he takes it another step further.

“It’s going to be ok, Mi Alma. Nothing is going to happen to you.

I’ll make sure of it.” He’s so calm when he says it, the words rolling off his tongue as if he just knows it to be true.

And, as I gaze into his eyes, I know it as well.

Trust is vital and isn’t something easily gained once it’s lost.

But, with Darius, I know in my heart he would never let anything bad happen to me.

Back in the woods, and when we arrived here, I admit I might not have reacted as such.

His allegiance, or lack thereof as he indicated, to the Phoenix Rising cult left too much to chance.

Deep down, however, I think I knew I had nothing to worry about.

Even after hearing about his association with the community, I still followed him to this safe house.

Still trusted him enough to keep my best interests in his heart. To keep me safe.

A walking red flag on the surface when all I see is green.

I know I shouldn’t cave to his whims so easily, but even now, he’s showing the Darius I knew from all that time ago.

The one I would have walked to the edge of the earth to find.

He let me sleep undisturbed while he took the time to quietly barricade the windows and doors, protecting me all while sticking to my side to ensure it.

He squeezes my hand between his before letting go to stand up.

With silent steps, he goes to the corner where his pack is and opens it, searching for something inside.

When he returns, he smiles and places a stiff honey-oat granola bar in my hand, retaking his seat on the bed with one of his own.

Together, we sit and eat. Well, Darius sits.

I stay right where I am, curled up in the fetal position with Sadie still pressed against my chest and stomach.

I make sure to place little tidbits of my bar down on the blanket for her to nibble on, and, before long, our meager breakfast is finished all too soon.

Eager to figure out what the hell we’re going to do, I start to sit up but stop as blinding pain rips through my abdomen. My brows furrow as I wince, trying to force the ache away only to have to wait until the torment decides it’s through with me. “Shit,” I whimper breathlessly.

“Alessandra?” Darius asks, concern coating my name as it rolls off his tongue.

“I’m fine,” I say in return, but the questionable look on his face shows he doesn’t believe me at all.

“It’s nothing,” I continue, willing it to be true.

But I know it’s beyond my efforts. No matter how much I want to find the guys, no matter how much I need to know they’re safe, no matter how much it’s killing me to have to remain here and make no forward progress towards helping them escape whatever hell they’re going through, I can’t get to them like this.

Sure, I could probably infiltrate the town, but what use would I be if I needed to put up any sort of fight when I can’t even properly sit upright in a fucking bed?

Not to mention...

The ominous presence lingering just outside that refuses to leave.

“Fuck...,” I curse to myself, miserable with the fact there’s nothing to be done even if I did push through the pain.

It’s out of my hands.

With bittersweet eyes, Darius turns to me. “Looks like we’re gonna have to postpone that rescue mission by a day or so.”

I’m saddened by the fact that there’s nothing we can do apart from embarking on a suicide mission just to get out from the safehouse, but, as I place a hand under me and push myself up, another cramp hits me. And I feel... like I’m fucking... dying .

With all the stress of the past few months—Cole getting torn up by the horde at the estate, the subsequent potential for him to transition, the race to save him, his recovery, the journey to Tryon Palace where we barely escaped another horde just outside of Jacksonville—my cycle has been way off.

If it weren’t for the fact that I have an IUD, I would have sworn one of the guys knocked me up, which, in these times, would’ve been fucking awful.

Thankfully, that’s not the case; I was just really late, and Mother Nature decided to drop a personalized bomb on me at the most inopportune moment and in the most abrupt way possible.

I don’t think I’ve had cramps this awful in years.

Without a word, Darius rises to his feet once again and heads back to his pack.

Unlike before, however, there are no smiles when he returns.

Instead, he fluffs up the pillows behind me and urges me to lie back down on them.

Happy to not be upright anymore, I release a sigh and settle in.

I fully expect him to return to his seat at the edge of the bed, but he lingers, hovering over me with furrowed brows and a tightly clenched jaw.

A second later, he reaches for the hem of my shirt, lifting it slightly.

My hands immediately land on top of his, trying to stop him, but his eyebrow lifts when our eyes meet.

A silent request for me to listen and trust him.

Reluctantly skeptical, I lift my hands from his, giving him the consent he needs in order for him to do what he thinks he must. Seeing my approval, he lifts his other hand and places it palm-side down on my belly.

A sudden warmth spreads across my skin, instantly settling the ache within.

Upon seeing my obvious relief, Darius smiles softly and lifts his hand, allowing me to look down and find a single-use hand warmer positioned right where it hurts.

Like he knew exactly what I needed and where I needed it.

A bottle of water is placed at my side next, along with two tabs of painkillers in my palm. Without objection, I swallow the pills and gulp down the water, not realizing just how thirsty I was until that very moment.

He, then, lifts a final item, placing it just above the heat pack.

“It’s my last one, so don’t wolf it down in one bite, ok?” he whispers knowingly. My gaze drops as I lift the whoopie pie and press my lips together, trying but failing to conceal the smile the simple act of kindness brings out.

We’re surrounded by flesh-eating zombies, and he’s making sure I’m not only safe and secure within the shelter we’ve decided to hide in, but he’s also making sure I’m comfortable.

That I’m fed and hydrated and not having to worry about being in pain.

Like taking care of me is the most important thing in the world for him.

He used to do this for me back when...

No...

No, no, no, no, no.

I will not look up and smile back at his dopey, all-knowingly confident face. Especially not when I know he has that tantalizing little dimple that has a criminal history of making my knees weak. Not gonna happen. I refuse to do it.

I totally did.

And like it had a fucking tractor beam aimed right for me, there was that dimple that turned my body to mush. I could literally feel the stress leave my shoulders as his grin widened, recognizing the effect he had on me even after all this time.

Son of a bitch. This cannot be happening.

I cannot let this happen. I already have three guys pining for me twenty-four-seven.

With my female human anatomy only providing me three holes, I literally do not have any more room to allow Dare to wiggle his way back into my life, even if the rest of my body seems to think otherwise.

“ Ahem...,” Me-two interrupts my inner turmoil. She’s sitting on the floor, legs tucked under her with her back against the wall, and has gone complete Disney Princess Mode. But it’s no princess I’ve ever seen.

Nineties gear completely discarded, she’s now decked out in a ridiculous, overly floofy hot pink ball gown complete with a matching tiara that’s been enhanced with spikes of cotton candy.

For some reason, other than to fuck with my head even further, she’s cradling a possum in her arms. It might be dead.

.. might not be. With its tongue currently hanging loosely from its mouth and a possible case of rigor mortis setting in, I have no idea.

Oh, and did I mention there are moths dancing around her head?

Yeah, moths... not butterflies. She’s also replaced her replica of my baseball bat with a crossbow and has banners all around saying things like, “Let the past go!”, “He crossed the horizon to find you!”, “Kiss the boy!”, and, the absolute cherry on top, “I’d let him wreck it! ”

She licks her lips and pulls a large, metal, stick-like pointer out from (probably) her ass and points it to a hand-drawn chart that materializes next to her.

“ According to numerous instances found courtesy of the adult entertainment industry,” she smacks the chart with her stick, indicating to the crude stick figures she’s created of various sexual positions, “the female body can absolutely take more than three. Always remember what Jax used to say, ‘Proper planning prevents poor performance.’ And, in this case, so does lube. ” She smiles as if she just gave the most important presentation of her life before the entire thing vanishes in a cloud of dust with a dramatic poof .

Clasping her palms together at her chest, she sighs whimsically at Darius’ back, the moths turning into little floating hearts as she smiles hopelessly at him.

I, on the other hand, am at a loss for words.

Me-two is a figment of my imagination. Unreal, but still a manifestation of what’s inside of me. Which means...

Oh, Fuck....

It’s not possible, though. I couldn’t do that to the guys.

Or even think to ask it of them. Regardless of our past or any lingering feelings I might have unearthed since we reunited, I’ve moved on.

And now I have to live with that decision.

A tear lingers at the edge of my lash, refusing to fall for him as I once did.

But my voice cracks, confirming my sentiment. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Mi Alma.” His large hand falls to my thigh, squeezing once reassuringly before motioning to Sadie. “Alright, puppy dog. Let’s see what we can do about you and what I can only assume is a bladder that’s about to explode.”

It’s surprising, considering her initial reaction to Darius was to attack him, but she quietly comes to stand on all fours and follows him off the bed and to the bathroom, leaving me in a heaping pile of pillows, along with a heat compress and medication to alleviate my aches and pains, one of my favorite chocolate treats, and a small modicum of peace despite the distressing absence of my guys and the enduring wall of death lurking just outside.

It's also surprising that I didn’t correct him on his choice of name for me. That I let him call me Mi Alma.

It’s then, as I silently reflect and take it all in, that I realize I’m totally, absolutely, unequivocally screwed.