Page 2 of Revenge Saints (BloodHawks Duet #2)

I can’t let her go.

Fuck. I thought we weren’t going to find her in time.

She’s sobbing, her arms wrapped around Ryker and Max, her head buried in my neck. Her tears are hot, but they don’t soothe. They slice . Every drop is a blade across my skin.

I have to protect her. I won’t lose her. I can’t lose any of them.

Dante… I’m coming for him. Even if I have to burn what’s left of our home to ash.

And Roman? He’ll pay. I should’ve ended him the moment I formed BloodHawks. That bastard never deserved to breathe past that day.

I force myself to breathe, to think. We can’t stay here. When these two don’t report back, Roman’s going to send more after Aspen.

And that’s what’s bugging me…

Why her?

He’s already got the base. Dante. Half our weapons. Aspen doesn’t know the codes to the rest. So why take the risk?

Because she’s a woman?

There are some women in town. He wouldn’t waste men for just that.

No…

He wants her for a reason.

“We need to move,” I murmur as I tilt her chin up with two fingers.

I need to see her, all of her. Her bloodshot green eyes lock with mine, so full of pain and silent pleading.

I almost forget how to breathe. She looks like she’s begging to wake up from a nightmare that just won’t end.

“We can’t stay here. We need to find somewhere safe… regroup, figure this out.”

She nods, and I feel her legs start to loosen from where they were clinging around me. Max and Ryker back off, giving her space as she begins to slide down my body.

But the second her feet hit the ground; she gasps and her knees buckle. I grab her before she drops .

“Aspen?” Max is instantly at her side, crouching low, and his eyes land on her leg. “Shit.”

There’s blood. Too much of it. It’s dripping down her jeans, fast.

“Fuck,” Ryker growls, his whole body going tense beside us.

She’s hurt.

How the hell didn’t we see it?

I rip off my belt without thinking, yanking it through the loops with one sharp pull, and hand it to Max. He doesn’t waste time. He wraps it tight around her thigh, just above the wound, his hands steady but his jaw clenched.

Max doesn’t hesitate; he rips the fabric open, and Aspen flinches, her breath hitching as pain rips through her. Her hand darts out without thinking, and Ryker’s already there, grabbing it tight, steady. He leans in close. “You’re okay, Aspen. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

I see it then; the cut’s deep, ugly. Too much blood. Max looks up at me, his jaw tight, and I don’t even need him to speak.

We’re fucked.

I grit my teeth and take a slow breath, trying to ground myself, but it’s no use. My hands curl into fists at my sides, the need to do something burning through me like wildfire.

“I’ll carry her,” I grunt. “Max, you follow. Ryker, cover the rear.”

They both nod, already moving into position.

“What?” She snaps as she crosses her arms, stubborn little thing. “I can walk! It’s not that bad now that Max put the belt around it.”

And of course, she tries to prove it, taking a step forward.

No. Hell no .

I catch her arm and pull her hard into my chest. She gasps, eyes wide as I lower my face to hers.

“You’ve got two choices,” I growl. “You let me carry you… Or I tie your arms and legs and throw you over my damn shoulder. Either way, you’re not walking. Got it?”

“Knox!” She squeaks, cheeks flushed, eyes darting to Ryker like he’s going to save her.

But Ryker just shrugs, arms crossed. “Don’t look at me; he’s right, and you know it.”

“Let’s all just breathe,” Max cuts in. “Sweetheart, that cut on your thigh? It’s deep. You need stitches. If you walk on it, it’ll tear wider, and you might start bleeding out again.”

Her chin lifts, defiant even through the pain. “But it doesn’t hurt that much,” she murmurs, soft and stubborn, tugging lightly at my grip like she’s not about to fall over.

Max gives her a patient look as he brushes a lock of hair off her face. “That’s the adrenaline talking. You think you’re fine, but you’re not.”

She breathes in slowly and heavily. And then her eyes flick to mine. “Fine,” she says.

Liar.

I see it all over her: the tight set of her jaw, the flicker of something wounded behind those forest eyes. She hates this. Hates being carried, hates needing help. She’s been surviving on her own for too long, scraping by, never letting herself lean on anyone.

But I’m not anyone. And I’m not letting her bleed out because her pride won’t sit the fuck down .

“Good girl.” The words come out rough as I scoop her into my arms, holding her close against me.

She winces, and I stop. “Didn’t you say it didn’t hurt?”

“You touched it,” she bites out, glaring at me like I’m the one who cut her.

I smirk, cocking a brow. “I didn’t even go near your thigh. That’s all you, pet.”

She grumbles something under her breath, probably calling me names, but her arms curl tighter around my neck.

We start moving. Eight hours ahead, maybe more. My grip tightens, her weight grounding me. This, keeping her safe, is the only thing keeping me from snapping and storming the fucking base.

“Where are we going? And… Dante?” She asks softly, but it slices through me like a blade to the ribs.

Fuck.

Dante.

Max answers before I can find my voice. “The old MacCallen farm. Secluded. It’ll buy us time.”

He and Ryker are on full alert, guns drawn, sweeping the woods like they’re waiting for the trees to attack. With Aspen in my arms, I’m useless in a fight unless it comes down to teeth and rage, and right now, I wouldn’t mind going feral if someone so much as breathes wrong near her.

“I know that name,” she murmurs, her fingers threading through my hair, the other hand pressed against my chest like she knows I’m about to snap. I tighten my hold on her instinctively .

“Oh!” she gasps, jolting a little, and we all freeze like goddamn statues. “It’s the farm you didn’t take Ethan! When Ryker and he fought!”

Fucking hell. I almost drop her. My heart lurches.

“She’s going to be the death of us,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head.

“We didn’t fight,” Ryker replies flatly, barely glancing at her. “For that, he’d have to actually hit me.”

I chuckle. It’s more reaction than humor, more habit than anything else. Because inside? I’m unraveling. Ethan. That memory… It’s like glass in my throat.

And just like that, I realize how badly we didn’t see it coming.

Fuck.

Ryker had been the first to pick up that something was off—the tension, the hesitation—but we didn’t listen. I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because if I let myself believe Ethan could turn on us… I don’t think I would’ve survived it. Neither would Dante.

If Roman’s telling the truth, if he really killed him, then this betrayal cost us everything. And even after everything Ethan did… My chest still splinters like glass under steel at the thought of him being gone.

He was with us since the fucking plague.

He wasn’t a part of the BloodHawks, but he was our brother . One of us.

I remember those early days, how we sparred in the mornings and trained until we couldn’t lift our arms. I showed him how to fight, how to survive, and how to shut down the fear .

He was just a scared kid back then, clinging to some fading memory of family while stuck in a base in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by mercenaries. He knew the stories from our past.

Ethan… He made dumb jokes, always poking at shit he didn’t understand, messing with things just to show off. But he always had our backs.

Or so I thought.

Fuck.

You were one of us, man.

Damn it, Ethan.

“Are you okay?” Aspen whispers. I glance down, and she’s looking up at me; she’s peeling back the layers I don’t let anyone touch.

“I am,” I say, trying to show control, but her brows pull together, and damn it, I know she doesn’t believe me.

I offer her a smile anyway, a hollow one, a mask over the storm ripping through me.

She leans in closer, her breath warm against my skin, her fingers sliding behind my neck. “My heart hurts too,” she whispers, and those four words wreck me more than bullets ever could.

Fuck.

Bryn, Ethan, and Dante. Our home, burning behind my eyes.

Bryn…

I was a bastard to her.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, the words crumbling as they leave me.

Aspen doesn’t answer. She just pulls me to her slow, her lips brushing mine like a whisper, like she’s trying to stitch me back together with nothing but softness and breath.

Her kiss is gentle, hesitant. Like she’s afraid, but all I can think about is destruction.

About Roman.

About blood .

And still, I kiss her back, desperate, like she’s the only thing anchoring me to whatever’s left of my sanity, and then a whistle cuts through the trees like a blade.

I snap up, heart slamming, instincts roaring to the surface. I stride behind the nearest tree, set Aspen down with a protective grip, my back already tense.

Her eyes are wide, scanning the shadows, fear flickers there and it twists something dark and violent in my chest.

“What is it?” She murmurs, barely a breath.

I glance at the other side of the path. Max is there, gun up, aimed to the left, eyes locked in. Ryker’s two trees ahead, low to the ground, half-covered by a thick bush, just a shadow in the dirt.

I shake my head once. We can’t shoot. Not yet. We don’t know how many are out there. And we’re low on bullets. Once those are gone, we’ll be fighting with bare hands and blades.

The two bastards who went after Aspen only had one gun between them and four bullets. We took it, yeah, but what if this is a bigger group? That’s not going to cut it.

They both nod, understanding without a word.

I turn to Aspen. “Don’t make a sound.” Her hands tremble, and I see it, the fear, the adrenaline. I reach behind me and pull out my knife, pressing it into her palm. “Stab and twist.”

She nods, jaw tight, knuckles white around the handle.

Aspen might blush when I say filthy things in her ear, but this? This is her fire. She might not know much about pleasure yet, but pain, survival? She knows how to dig in her heels and fight like hell.

Three figures emerge from the trees.

One of them is holding a rifle.

Our rifle.

Motherfucker.

The other two don’t seem armed, probably knives, maybe nothing at all. We can take them. We will take them. The fewer men Roman has, the easier it’ll be to get Dante back.

I signal to Max, and he smirks, already reading my move.

Aspen drops to her knees slowly, tucked into the shadows behind a tree.

I circle wide, silent, placing myself behind the tree near one of the men. Ryker crawls through the underbrush like a ghost, getting right up to the second one’s boots, and the idiot doesn’t even blink. That’s how good Recon is.

Max waits, hidden, watching. As soon as the third guy passes his tree,

We strike.

I grab the fucker by the neck; he thrashes, kicking, fighting like a fish on a hook. But he’s not strong enough, not fast enough, and definitely not smart enough. His oxygen runs out before his ideas do, and just as he starts to go limp,

Crack.

His neck snaps like dry wood in a fire.

I drop the body, my chest heaving. Around me, the others fall. Clean. Quick.

“You okay, pet?” I call out, my tone low.

Aspen peeks out from behind the tree, her hand wrapped tight around the knife I gave her.

“Yes. Better than them.” She points at the corpses; there’s a spark in her eyes. “You guys are… really good at this.”

She sounds surprised. Almost impressed.

I shrug and drag one of the bodies off the path, hiding it in the bushes. “It’s what we’ve done since we were eighteen.”

We strip them and take the rifle and knives. No radios. Useless dead weight now.

“I’ll take her,” Ryker says, walking toward Aspen. She raises her arms for him automatically, and he chuckles.

Her arms snap back down across her chest. “What?” she snaps, her brows drawn tight.

Ryker just laughs, a smug grin tugging at his mouth. She glares at him like she’s about to shank him with that knife.

“Don’t piss her off, Recon.” I shake my head, unable to stop the smirk tugging at my lips.

“Nothing, really.” He scoops her up, and she loops her arms around his neck. But then her eyes, those fierce, stormy eyes, drift to me .

I know that look. She’s chewing on something, some thought rattling around in that stubborn little head of hers. She wants to ask me something. Maybe she’s afraid of the answer. Or my reaction.

I sling the rifle back into position, eyes scanning the trees. We lost time. We need to get to the farm, fast. Aspen’s still bleeding, and adrenaline only lasts so long.

Then she cuts through the silence.

“Was there a reason you guys didn’t want Ethan going to the farm?”

I breathe out and glance at her. “We started moving stuff to the farm after that one trip… the time me, Max, and Ethan went to town.”

She nods slowly, eyes narrowing. “So, you thought Ethan might be up to something?”

“Not exactly,” I say, stepping closer to Ryker as we weave through the woods.

“He was off that day. Off in a way that made my gut twist, you know? But I didn’t want to believe he’d betray us.

I just… wanted a backup. In case we were ever followed to the base, or something happened.

The farm’s big, deserted, and intact; it made sense. ”

“We didn’t know what Ethan was planning, Aspen,” Max adds. “If we had known… we would’ve stopped him. We would’ve never let anything happen to you. Or Bryn.”

A tear slides down Ryker’s cheek. Aspen sees it, and without a word, she reaches up and brushes it away with trembling fingers. Her own eyes shine, swimming with unshed tears.

“I know,” she whispers, smiling through the pain .

We’re all carrying pieces of the wreckage now. Ethan’s betrayal. Dante’s capture. Bryn’s death. The weight of it drags behind us like ghosts.

The farm… it’s not just shelter anymore. It’s our only shot at taking everything back.