Page 4 of Revenge Saints (BloodHawks Duet #2)

T hree hours to go. The sun is high, and the weight of it all is sinking in. My heart is heaving; the thought of Bryn’s body lying somewhere doesn’t sit well with me. I wish Roman hadn’t killed Ethan. I want to ask why. What the hell did he do to her?

Ethan never felt like he belonged, and last year, things had gotten worse, especially with Ryker.

“Aspen?” Ryker’s whisper breaks me from my thoughts, and I look at him. Knox strides toward him.

“Aspen?!” Knox shakes her in panic. I push him away, then see her color almost drained from her face. Fuck!

“We need to move faster,” I grit out, trying to hide the urgency, but Knox can see it in my face. Dante’s the doctor of the group; at least, he’s the one with the most experience. But over the years, he made sure to teach me a lot in case something happened to him.

Fuck.

“I can patch her up. We need to get to the farm.”

We pick up the pace. Knox is carrying her now, and me and Ryker are on guard with our guns raised. Ryker takes the front, scanning the area, his movements calculated.

“She won’t make it,” Knox whispers behind us before he comes to a stop.

“Aspen, pet, please open your eyes.” His plea is raw, his desperation bleeding through. I can see it in his face; he’s about to break.

“Come on, Knox, we need to keep moving.” I pull him forward, but he won’t budge.

“Wait, let me try something.” Ryker pulls his backpack to the front, the only one of us who remembered to grab anything when we left after Aspen and Bryn.

He digs inside and pulls out a small package. I glance at it, recognition flickering in my mind, sugar. Ryker opens her lips gently, tipping the sugar onto her tongue. Her lips close immediately, and we watch, waiting for any sign, until we see her throat bob as she swallows.

“Good girl, Aspen.” Ryker pours more sugar in, and she swallows it down.

“Her blood sugar’s probably tanked from the blood loss,” I murmur, and Ryker nods in agreement.

I push a strand of hair from her forehead. “Sweetheart, do you hear me?”

We fall into a heavy silence. The seconds stretch into what feels like hours, each one pulling at my nerves. Finally, her eyes flutter open.

“What’s wrong?” She murmurs.

“Fuck,” Knox breathes in relief.

“Nothing, love,” Ryker says, his tone gentle as he pulls an old as fuck energy bar from his pack. “Keep eating this, okay?”

She nods weakly, her hand trembling as she grabs the bar. She’s still pale, barely holding on, but at least she’s with us again.

We don’t waste time. We move fast.

“I’ll take her,” I say, and Knox nods, passing her into my arms. She gives me a small smile.

“I’m tired,” she chuckles, but I can see the fear hiding behind her eyes.

“I know,” I murmur, tightening my grip on her, “but we’re almost there. Just stay awake a little longer, sweetheart.” I lock my gaze on those beautiful eyes. She’s holding on for us, and we’re holding on to her just the same. Knox isn’t the only one clinging to her like a lifeline.

After Bryn’s death, Dante being taken, and Ethan’s backstabbing ghost, Aspen is all that’s keeping us from falling apart. From charging into the base guns blazing and getting ourselves killed. It would be a suicide mission, and if we didn’t have anything to lose, we’d already be dead.

But we have her. And Dante’s last words before the line went dead still echo in my head.

Protect her at all costs.

“Finally,” Ryker mutters, picking up his pace as the outline of the farm appears ahead.

Hidden in the trees, half-swallowed by overgrowth, and thick with herbs and brush, it barely looks like a place someone once called home. The windows are boarded, the door reinforced, and every corner prepared for a fight. It’s not much, but it’s all we’ve got.

Knox unlocks the door, and we step inside. Aspen lifts her head, eyes darting around the space. The second the tears start slipping down her cheeks.

“Aspen?” My heart kicking against my ribs.

“It looks like my home,” she whispers.

Fuck. That hits harder than it should.

“Oh, Aspen…” I pull her tighter against me, cradling her to my chest as I press a kiss to the top of her head. I don’t say more. Can’t. Words won’t fix what’s been done.

Knox is already moving, clearing off the dining table with efficient motions. He throws a clean sheet over it just as Ryker runs in from the back room, arms full of the supplies we stashed here the last time we passed through .

I lay her down gently on the table. Her body trembles under my hands.

“This is going to hurt, sweetheart,” I murmur, brushing a tear from her cheek. “But I need you to be strong for me, just a little longer.”

She nods, silent, her face streaked with tears that haven’t stopped falling.

Knox moves to her head and gently takes her hands, lifting them up and lacing his fingers with hers, holding her in place.

“Ryker,” I call, and he’s already there, dropping to his knees beside the table and wrapping both hands around her leg to keep it steady.

The belt is soaked through with blood, clinging to her skin like it doesn’t want to let go. I suck in a breath as I grip it, her body twitching beneath my hands.

“Easy, sweetheart. Just breathe for me.”

Knox leans closer, still holding her hands above her head, murmuring soft reassurances against her temple. Ryker grips her leg tighter, jaw clenched so hard I swear his teeth might crack.

I start to loosen the belt. The second I peel it off, blood gushes from the wound, hot and angry. I curse under my breath and press a thick pad of gauze to it, trying to slow the bleeding.

“Fuck,” Ryker growls. “It’s deep.”

“I know,” I grit out. “Hold her steady.”

The gauze soaks through too quickly, but I don’t stop. I clean the area with whatever we’ve got—alcohol, iodine, or wipes—her body jerking with every pass. She’s trying to be strong, but she’s fading. I can see it in her face, the way her eyelids flutter and lips pale and trembling.

“I got you,” I whisper. “I’m right here. You’re not alone, Aspen. Stay with me.”

She nods weakly, but her eyes roll slightly, and her head turns into Knox’s chest. He curses softly and brushes a tear off her cheek.

“You’re doing so good, pet,” Knox whispers, kissing her forehead. “Just a little more, yeah?”

I grab the needle and thread. My hands are steady, even though everything inside me is chaos. One stitch. Two. Her body jolts, and she lets out a low, strangled cry. I keep going.

Then her body goes still.

“Fuck, Aspen?” I look up.

“She passed out,” Knox says, checking her pulse. “She’s still with us. Just unconscious.”

I don’t let myself panic. I finish the stitches, each one like sewing pieces of myself into her skin. When I’m done, I clean the blood off her leg as gently as I can and wrap it tight.

“She’s going to make it,” I mutter. Not to them but to myself, because if I say it enough, it’ll be true.

Knox lets her hands go, but his eyes never leave.

“I’m going to make her bed.” Ryker stands, her blood on his shirt and hands. I know Ryker; he’s trying to pull it together. He liked Bryn a lot, and now seeing Aspen like this…

I nod, and he leaves to the back, his boots echoing on the old hardwood floor .

“Knox.” I call him, but he’s not here right now; his hand is clenched at his side, veins pumping, jaw ticking. “Reaper!”

He snaps up, looking at me. “Yeah?”

“Do you think they’ll come looking for us here?” I ask, looking around, it’s getting dark, and we need to be prepared to defend ourselves if needed.

“I don’t think so,” He drags a bloody hand over his hair. “Ethan never knew where this place was, and Dante will never say.”

I see his eyes darting around; he’s planning, trying to see five steps ahead.

“Let’s cover the windows up so no one sees the lights in the distance and reinforce the door with that closet.” He points to the old dish closet. It’s hardwood and will make it hard for someone to take the door.

We move the furniture, blocking the door with the heavy wood. Just as we finish, I hear Ryker’s boots on the floor behind me.

“The bed’s ready,” he says. Knox moves without a word, strides over to Aspen, and lifts her slowly, making sure her leg doesn’t bend as he carries her toward the bedroom.

I stay back, watching Ryker. His eyes are shadows, dark and distant. I step closer, slipping an arm around him. He stiffens, then leans in, just a fraction.

“Let it out, Ryk,” I murmur, pulling him tight against me.

“Fuck, Max…” I don’t hear him cry, no sobbing, no gasps, but my shoulder grows wet, his grief bleeding through.

“I know.” I whisper it into the space between us; into the storm he’s barely holding back. “We’re gonna get Dante back. And we’ll make them pay for Bryn. I swear it.”

He nods, but he doesn’t let me go. Not even when Knox walks in and finds us tangled up in the middle of the room like the world’s emptied out around us. He catches my eye, gives a small nod, a quiet smile that says he understands, and disappears into the kitchen.

It’s the first time he’s seen us like this. But I know it doesn’t matter, not to him, not to any of them. Whatever I have with Ryker has always been accepted. Respected.

Ryker finally straightens, scrubs the tears from his face, and looks at me like I’m the only thing anchoring him right now.

Then he grabs my face and crashes his mouth into mine, hard, raw, and so goddamn possessive it makes my knees buckle. He kisses me as if he’s trying to burn the pain out of his body and pouring every ounce of rage and grief into me.

His hands fist in my shirt, desperate, bruising. Teeth clash. It’s messy and angry.

But I don’t let it spiral.

I grab the back of his neck and own the kiss.

My tongue slows it down, takes over, reminding him who I am. My hand slides to his jaw, gripping it just enough to make him feel the command in my touch.

He groans into my mouth, the sound wrecked, needy. His anger melts into something raw, more vulnerable.

“Breathe,” I whisper against his lips. “I’ve got you, Ryker. Let me take it. ”

He shudders, his body trembling as he leans into me. The fight drains out of him with every slow drag of my lips on his. I kiss him deeply, thoroughly, until he’s not clawing at me anymore; he’s holding on.

“You two need to eat,” Knox calls from the kitchen.

Ryker breaks the kiss and steps back, eyes darting around like we’d been caught, but Knox never even looked this way.

“Sorry, Max, I-”

“Sorry for what?” I wink at him, nodding toward the kitchen.

We head in to find Knox at the counter. He’s cut up some fruit, scrambled eggs, and even boiled a few. The stove clicks off behind him; he must’ve found one of the gas tanks we stashed here before shit went south. Good to know they still work.

This place has no electricity, unlike the base. We’d planned to haul in a wind turbine and a battery setup, maybe even make it livable for longer… But that plan went up in smoke. Still, we’ve got candles. We’re surrounded by trees. If we need to, we’ll chop them down and make light the old way.

“Thanks,” Ryker mutters as he sits down.

“The tanks are full,” Knox says. “Should last about a week if it doesn’t rain. But we’ll need to boil the water before drinking.”

“I’ll handle that after we eat,” I say, nodding toward their shirts. “You two should clean up.”

They’re both drenched in blood. Most of it is Aspen’s. And seeing it still there, it twists in my gut.

Ryker breaks the silence. “Do you think Roman really killed Ethan? ”

The question lingers like smoke.

I hear the regret, and so does Knox. He slams his fork down.

“Hey, Recon, don’t feel sorry for him,” he snaps. “He did this. All of this.”

“I know…” Ryker keeps his gaze on the plate, shoulders tight.

I exhale, jaw clenched. “We can’t take Roman’s word. Not after what he’s done.”

Knox meets my eyes, something steely in his. “Then we plan like Ethan’s still alive. Just in case.”

A scream rips through the silence.

We’re running before we even register it, guns up, instincts on full alert as we storm into Aspen’s room ready to kill.

But she’s sleeping. Drenched in sweat, thrashing in the sheets.

“Fuck,” I growl through gritted teeth.

“She’s having a nightmare,” Knox mutters, already moving. He sits beside her, brushing damp hair from her face. “Go clean up. I’ll take first watch. Ryker, you’re next.”

Ryker nods silently and slips out.

I move closer, crouch by the bed, and press my palm to her forehead. “She’s burning up.”

“I know.” Knox pulls the blanket down. She’s in nothing but her underwear; he must’ve stripped her out of the blood-soaked clothes.

My eyes travel over her body, and my chest tightens. She looks so small like this. Fragile. Bruises bloom over her arms, shadows of violence etched into her skin. Her leg’s still caked in dried blood.

“I’ll get some wet cloths… and see if we’ve got anything she can take. ”

I force myself to stand, back away, and leave the room. The second I step out; I drag in a breath like it might steady me.

It doesn’t.

Fuck.

This day is gutting me.