Page 33 of Revenge Saints (BloodHawks Duet #2)

I ’m still holding her.

Knees in the dirt. Her body slack against mine. My chest is rising too fast, like I’m coming down from a kill and can’t shake the high.

She’s not shaking anymore. She’s… still .

I shift her in my arms, pressing my lips to her temple. “You good, pet?”

She doesn’t answer, just pulls back, eyes heavy-lidded, skin flushed, lips raw from moaning my name, then she turns around in my lap and straddles me, cupping my face in both hands.

“What are you—”

“I’m taking care of you,” she says softly. Her eyes never leaving mine.

I blink. What?

“I’m fine,” I mutter, clearing my throat. “You’re the one who just got,”

She leans in and presses her forehead to mine, and my hands twitch where they rest on her thighs. she rubs her thumb across my jaw gently, like I’m not the same bastard who just fucked her into the forest ground, then she stops and looks at me.

And that makes it worse, because I don’t know what to do with soft, not this kind of soft.

“You’re the one who just got railed into a fucking tree,” I mutter, trying to pull away. “You need rest, not this.”

“I need you to shut up,” she says, firmer now. “Just for once.”

My jaw clenches.

Her thumb brushes along my cheekbone in a caring, unusual way.

“I’m not built for this,” I grit.

“That’s bullshit,” she snaps. “You take care of everyone. Every second. You act like that’s strength, but it’s just fear, Knox. You think if you stop holding everything up, we’ll all fall apart.”

I open my mouth to argue, but she doesn’t let me. “You don’t think you’re allowed to be held. That if you crack, even for a second, it means you’re weak.”

“Because I can’t crack,” I bark. “Not with the world we live in. Not when everything around us is already broken. Someone has to fucking stay standing. ”

Her eyes don’t waver. “Just let me take care of you, Reaper.”

I shake my head. “You’re not supposed to.”

“Let me try,” she whispers. “Because you’re bleeding inside and no one sees it.”

My throat closes. My chest aches.

Her hands slip into my hair, tugging gently at the roots.

“You don’t have to protect me from this,” she says. “You’re not going to break me or scare me.”

I look away.

She presses her forehead to mine. That’s when it hits me, not the words, not her hands, but her eyes. Looking at me with love.

I exhale.

Then I let my head drop to her shoulder.

And finally, I let her hold me.

Not as mercenary.

Not as her protector.

Just as a man who’s fucking tired.

I wake with the sun peeking through the window. Aspen’s curled into my side, her breath slow against my ribs, soft fingers tangled in the sheet.

And it fucking hits me: today might be the last time I get to touch her, the last time I kiss her, the last time I feel her skin, her warmth, her fucking heartbeat next to mine.

My chest tightens.

It’s never felt like this before a mission. Before? If I died, I died. Fuck it. That was the job.

But now? She’s here, next to me.

Sitting up, I grip the edge of the bed, try to breathe through the hammering in my chest. Then I look down at her again, and the need hits me like a freight train.

I shift closer, wrap my hand around my cock, and rub it against her ass.

She stirs but doesn’t wake. I pause, waiting. When she settles, I press the head to her pussy and push in, just the tip, then pull back, spit on my hand, rub it over myself, and slide in again, slower this time.

She moans, soft and breathy.

I spit again and push deeper. Her body responds, wetter now, her hips twitching against mine.

“Knox?” she mumbles, her tone thick with sleep.

“I need you,” I whisper, pressing in another inch. “One last time.”

Her breath hitches.

Then she moves, pulling me in with her body, pressing back, and I go deeper.

I wrap my arm around her waist, hold her tight to me, and start fucking her slow . Slow enough to feel every pulse, every squeeze, every goddamn second of her wrapped around me .

I rub her clit with my thumb, circling gently, coaxing her awake through the haze.

“I need to hear you come, Aspen,” I whisper. “I need it.” I fucking beg her.

Her hips start to roll, small thrusts meeting mine, her moans getting louder.

“Faster, Reaper,” she breathes.

Fuck.

That name wrecks me when it comes out of her mouth. I flip her onto her back, shove her thighs open, and thrust into her hard, my whole body shaking with how much I need this.

The bed creaks, and slams against the wall with every snap of my hips. She cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders.

Then she screams as her climax crashes through her. So violent, shaking, and beautiful.

I follow, gritting her name through my teeth as I come deep inside her, every muscle locking, every breath stolen. I collapse over her, panting, shaking; my forehead pressed to hers.

“I needed that,” I whisper.

She giggles. “Happy to help.”

I smirk, kiss her lips, and pull out gently. I leave the bed and head outside.

Another cold fucking shower; my skin’s still tingling from her when I walk back in.

Aspen’s sitting on the edge of the bed now, eyes heavy.

Dante’s already geared up .

My gear’s on the bed beside her, but her eyes are full of fear now. Sadness.

Like she finally feels it too—

That this might be the last time she sees us standing here.

Alive.

I gear up slowly, piece by piece, feeling every buckle like it’s being welded to my fucking bones.

Aspen slips out of the room, and I don’t follow. I keep my eyes on the wall in front of me as I finish.

Dante stands still for a moment. “I don’t want to take her with us,” he says, barely audible.

I don’t answer right away because I feel the same, and admitting it feels like failing her.

“I know,” I finally whisper, and when I turn to face him, our eyes meet, both of us already drowning in the choice we made.

I step out of the room. Dante follows close behind, silent.

Outside, Aspen stands next to Max and Ryker. They’re already geared up, ready to go, faces tight, eyes scanning everything but her. She’s tying her boots, focused, unaware.

I lift my hand slowly, make the silent gesture. One stays back .

Max and Ryker catch it instantly.

Their chins dip, subtle but sure. And I see it, that flicker of relief behind their eyes.

Dante moves first, circling behind me, stepping to Aspen’s left.

Max shifts forward, closer to the door.

Ryker takes a single step back, silent .

She finally finishes tying her lace, stands up straight, eyes bright, and face hopeful until it clicks.

She whips around, panic setting in fast. “No,”

Dante grabs her arms, and she fights hard . Knees. Elbows. Teeth. Pure instinct.

I move in, catching her waist, then her neck, holding her steady, even as she tries to claw her way free.

“I’m sorry, pet,” I grunt against her ear. “But we can’t risk you getting hurt. Or worse.”

She doesn’t care. She fights like she means to kill one of us, screaming, thrashing, sobbing.

“You said I could help!” She yells, fury cracking into something shattered. “You said,”

She collapses into full-blown sobs as I throw her into the bed.

She scrambles up immediately, eyes wild, chest heaving, but the door slams shut between us before she reaches it, and I twist the lock.

Could’ve tied her up. God knows she’d never get out of my knots.

But if we don’t come back,

She needs to be able to run.

I lean my head against the door, closing my eyes, trying not to break when I hear her fists pounding the other side.

“If we don’t come back by sunrise…” I pause, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Run, Aspen.”

She screams my name, still sobbing, still hitting the wood.

I speak louder now. Clearer. So she hears every fucking word .

“We’re leaving a bag. Food, water, a gun, and a knife. You’ll be okay.”

“No!” she sobs. “Please! Please don’t do this!”

I turn from the door before I change my mind.

My fist hits the wall and goes through it, splinters flying as the pain shoots through my knuckles.

I can’t do this. I fucking can’t but I have to. This is our fight, not hers .

She’s screaming all our names now. One after the other. Trying to stop us from going.

Begging.

Breaking .

We don’t speak. Don’t look back.

We pick up our bags.

And walk out. The door shuts behind us.

And for some reason it feels like goodbye.

We keep walking. The hours stretch long and quiet. No one’s said a word since we left the farm, not since Aspen’s voice cracked from screaming our names.

It’s a silence that eats at me.

I stop. Turn.

The guys halt behind me .

“I know we all feel like shit,” I say. “But we need our heads right. Roman isn’t going to stop. He’ll come for us. For the farm. For…” I swallow hard. “For Aspen.”

“She’s never going to forgive us,” Max says, arms crossed, but there’s no edge to it, just a low, hollow truth. “She wanted to fight.”

“And if she saw Bryn?” Dante cuts in. “If she heard Roman was near her? She’d run straight for them. No backup. No plan. Just-” He stops for a second. “She’d try to save her.”

I nod, jaw clenching. “That’s exactly why she had to stay. We can’t afford that kind of chaos. Not out here.”

Ryker and Max exchange a glance, then nod.

It’s brutal, but they know I’m right.

We move faster now. I want this over by sundown. Set the traps, fuck up Roman’s numbers, and get back to her before she tears down the damn house.

“Finally,” Ryker mutters as we reach the river.

“You got the radios?”

Max and Dante nod.

“Go,” I say, and they split off.

Dante takes his position on the overlook where Aspen was supposed to be, safe from the line of fire, just close enough to signal us. Max and Ryker slip into the trees, heading to flank the base from the rear.

I stay behind and start planting the traps.

I move fast. Efficient. Everything’s in place.

Now I wait .

I crouch low, hidden in leaves and shadows, my finger on the trigger, heart slow and steady. My mind drifts to Aspen; by now she’s probably out of that room, door kicked down, eyes wild, chest heaving with fury. But she knows this place. She knows what it means to come here.

If she makes it here, it’s already too late. She knows that.

The radio clicks. Showtime.

I light the first charge, bolt for cover. Three. Two. One.

BOOM.

The blast punches the air out of my lungs, but I stay down. Count the minutes. They’re loud. Sloppy. Screaming as they rush in. Four of them. Idiots.

Four bullets. Four bodies.

Click, click. Another explosion in the distance. That’s Max and Ryker. I wait.

Gunfire echoes in the trees. Then one more click. I light the last explosive; Roman will catch on soon that we’re thinning his herd.

The third blast hits. Only two come this time. Smart fucker. I track them through the brush, moving silently behind them.

Blades out. Throats cut.

Then I hear it. A step too close. A presence. I whirl, gun raised, and she steps out.

“Don’t shoot,” Bryn says, hands up.

My aim doesn’t waver. “What the fuck are you doing here, Bryn?”

“I just want to talk.” Her voice is soft, rehearsed. Submissive. The tone she used back when she sat quietly by Aspen’s side, pretending to be harmless.

“Talk?” My lip curls. “About which part? Betraying us? Leading Aspen to Roman like a fucking lamb?”

She frowns. “Is that what Dante told you?” She steps closer. I don’t back up.

“I just said she might be better off in a real community,” she murmurs. “With real men. Not killers.”

Her mouth opens and closes, and for the first time, she doesn’t seem sure of the script.

My hand tightens on the grip.

“Real men?” I laugh, feeling my blood boil. “You mean the ones who’d rape her the second she said no? The ones who’d fill her up like a fucking incubator?”

“I wouldn’t let that happen!” she snaps, waving her hands, eyes looking maniacal. Dante was right; she lost sight of reality.

“Roman would use her to get us. He would kill her for it!” Fuck, can’t she see that?

“I misjudged Roman.” She is quieter now. Eyes on mine. Her mouth trembles like she’s about to say more.

“Oh, really?” I lower my gun but keep it to my side. “We gave you security, food, shelter. We never asked for your body or Aspen’s.” My jaw twitches.

“I know that!” She steps closer. “I thought I could,”

“Rule the base? Be the queen of some fucked-up community?” I shake my head. “You really think Roma- ”

Shot.

Fuck.

Pain punches through my side. I drop to my knees, breath stolen, hand pressing against my ribs. Blood pours.

Roman steps out from the trees, slow, smiling like a fucking vulture.

“I told him you wouldn’t shoot,” Bryn says sweetly. “Not because you didn’t want to but because Aspen would never forgive you.”

Roman’s arm wraps around her waist. His gun now aimed at my head.

“You were right, baby,” Roman croons. “Love made him stupid.”

I breathe through the pain; fingers slick with blood.

“You know why I didn’t want her to fuck you that night?” Bryn says, almost tenderly. “Because I knew if she did, you’d fall. You’d be harder to control. But if she never touched you, you would eventually seek me out.”

I laugh loud and dark; she freezes.

“Bryn,” I breathe, looking up at her with a smile that tastes like iron. “I’d rather stick my dick in a shark’s mouth than touch you.”

I spit blood in her face. She slaps me, hard, my head snapping to the side, but I’m still laughing.

“You know what she and I have?” I growl. “Something you’ll never understand. Or have. Or kill.”

I straighten. My back is screaming. My side drenched in blood. Roman steps forward, gun aimed.

“Go ahead, motherfucker,” I breathe.

I close my eyes. And she’s there. Her hands. Her voice. The way she says my name.

“I love you, Aspen,” I whisper.

And I wait for the shot.