Page 7 of Resurrection (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #3)

Cole

I’ve gotta do something. Distract her so she can focus her attention on something other than my dilapidated ass. Don’t get me wrong, I love the attention, but not when she’s babying me. It makes me feel incapable, useless, insignificant.

Not if I have anything to say about it.

I might be hurt, might have fucked up my ankle to the point I’m limping all over the place, might have angry scars all over my body that’ll stick with me the rest of my life, but I am not fucking broken, dammit!

I can see her breaking, though. See the need to divert all her energy into me so we don’t look towards her and all the shit piling up in her mind. Minute by minute, I see it grow. The anxiety. The rage. The impending explosion. Our own personal Mount Vesuvius, ready to erupt .

If she keeps this up, I’m taking matters into my own hands.

I know just the thing to get her out of her head and back to how she was before that fucking beach.

She’ll hate me for it in the beginning—ask me why, yell, scream and beg for me to show her mercy, for us to show her mercy—but then love us in the end.

Oh, she will love us in the end. I guarantee it.

If she keeps this up, I will personally lead the charge to help Aly cope with her demons, to purge her of everything and build her back even stronger.

*SLAM*

Our gazes swing to the foyer as Jax and Hawk enter the room, some... thing hanging from Hawk’s hand.

“Dinner!” he calls out, smiling like a crazed lunatic and wearing nothing but cargo shorts and unlaced combat boots. His unruly blonde hair isn’t helping his case for sanity either, sticking up in all directions as if he’s the poster boy definition of unhinged.

Jax eyeballs him, probably thinking the same thing but he has no room to judge, having personally displaced about a hundred squirrels in the past hour and is also, conveniently, missing his shirt. At least his boots are tied.

“What.... What is that?” Aly asks, pointing to whatever-the-fuck he’s holding.

“This?” He points to the hunk of mangled flesh dangling from his fist as if we’re talking about anything else. Ass .

“Yes, Hawk... that.” I urge, a headache forming behind my eyes at his antics.

“Oh, yeah.” He lifts it, stretching his arm out in front of him, unbothered that it’s still slowly dripping blood. “Gopher,” he says matter-of-factly, like we should have known just by looking at it. But how would we when—

“Where’s it’s head?!” Aly squeals, her eyes bugging out of their sockets at the lack of one. Sadie whimpers beside me at the sight, nuzzling her nose between her paws.

Hawk’s insanity never lifting, he smiles larger, nodding excitedly as he replies, “Rifle.” He proceeds to follow up the single-worded answer by gesturing a bomb explosion with his hands. “BOOM!”

“Yeah... I think Hawk needs an outlet. A proper outlet. Dude was on the roof, sniping all the squirrels and chipmunks as they fled the trees I cut down. Couldn’t stop threatening Chip and Dale with a bullet up their asses for outmaneuvering all the bullets he shot at them.

Made absolutely no fucking sense. Then he got distracted when this big ass bastard showed up on the other side of the yard.

All it took was one shot and I can safely confirm the gopher felt nothing.

” Jax adds, slowly sidestepping Hawk with a weary glance.

“Oh, fuck you, Jax! You were right there with me! In fact, wasn’t it you that started all that mayhem?

You, that made all those furry little tree rats homeless in the first place?

I’m just completing the destruction you were too lazy to finish.

” Hawk ends his rant and, with the bleeding carcass still in his hand, crosses his arms in front of his chest as if to say no further questions, your honor .

“I got the wood for the fire, ass hat. It’s called being productive,” Jax says, throwing his reasoning right back at him.

“You chopped down enough to host a bonfire for the next three days straight and build an Amish pole barn with the remainder,” Hawk rebuttals, lifting a finger to point accusingly at Jax while tilting his head.

“You play... with your wood... too much, sir. It’s affecting.

.. the family.” He turns his stance towards me and Aly, still perched on the floor, our gazes bouncing between the two of them like we’re witnessing a tennis match.

Lifting his hand, he indicates to our general direction.

“Look at them. What if Aly wanted to play with some wood? Or even Cole. Cole might’ve wanted to.

But you don’t know, do you? You never asked.

I’m sure either of them would have appreciated a nice, long, hard, stiff piece of quality timber.

And now you’ve taken all that fun away. So selfish. Bad Jax. Bad ,” Hawk chastises him.

Jax looks over to us, probably seeking guidance but receiving only a tiny shrug from Aly before returning his focus back on Hawk.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING ON ABOUT?!” Jax explodes, his arms waving frantically around him as Hawk has officially hit his final nerve.

Hawk, on the other hand, doesn’t even seem phased by his outburst, and goes about setting the gopher in the kitchen sink, prepping it to be cooked .

“Any who, how do you think this would cook up best?” he asks Jax leisurely. “Roast it on a spit, rotisserie style? Cut it up and make a stew? Gopher steaks?”

Flabbergasted and at a complete loss for words, Jax just stares at him. I can see the vein in his forehead on the verge of rupturing. The pent-up aggression harboring inside him, begging for release.

Yeah... I’d say we all need a reset if Jax is getting this worked up over Hawk’s normal shit. Not to mention, Hawk taking out everything that moves is a bit concerning... even for him. Aly as well, with her constant worrying and that mask she thinks necessary.

I’m giving us one more day.

One more day to get our heads on straight before I pull rank.

I’ll have to have a quick talk with the others when I’m finally able to get a second alone again—probably when she’s sleeping—but that’s ok. I know for a fact they’ll be down for some redirection. For a distraction from the shit world we live in.

We’ll get the release we need...

My way.