Page 109 of Severed Heart (The Ravenhood Legacy #2)

“R-Russell was c-coming back to g-get me. He j-just, he couldn’t get a-ahold of anyone to k-keep me while he ran an errand b-but he’s coming right b-back.” He lets this all out in a terrified but stuttered rush as I realize I’m towering over him, my posture threatening and tense.

“That explains shit,” I expel, the tension in me due to his own safety as I offer my hand to help him up. Denying my outstretched hand, he palms the concrete before standing on shaking legs as I pull out my phone. “Who are you?”

“Zach,” he expels, eyes darting to the side door.

“That still explains nothing. Why are you sleeping on our couch, Zach?”

He bites his lip, the fear in him palpable, terror in his eyes, which look slightly familiar.

It’s the rest of him that I can’t place.

I gauge him carefully, seeing signs of extreme fatigue.

Even beneath the dim shop light, I can see his complexion is gaunt, and he’s extremely malnourished by the looks of him.

Pocketing my phone, I decide to act first and ask Russell questions later, knowing this situation could go further south if the garage is being watched—which is likely.

Adrenaline kicking in, I stalk over and kill the shop light and cock my head. Just after, I start to bark my orders rapidly while walking over to the door to ensure it is fully pulled to and locked. “You need to get your shoes on and your shit and come with me right now.”

Even in the blacked-out bay, I manage to catch his nod and a telling sniff before letting out a heavy exhale.

“Hustle, please,” I manage as gently as I can, knowing I might have just put this kid in direct fire. Subconsciously, I came here to pick a fight with anyone who might have snuck past our borders, knowing damn well this garage is a hot spot and neon sign for Miami.

Zach promptly kicks into his shoes, grabbing a tattered backpack at the end of the couch before stopping a good five feet from me when I lift my hand to halt him.

Easing open the side door, Glock drawn, I scour the corners of the building before turning to him.

“Stay right here until I come back for you,” I utter low.

“Only open this fucking door if you hear four rapid knocks. If you don’t hear those knocks when you count to a hundred and twenty, call Russell, got it? ”

“Got it.” His voice breaks on the words, confirming I’ve terrorized this kid within minutes of meeting him while racking my brain on who he could be and why he’s here. After clearing the building, I quickly knock and retrieve him before rushing him to the cab of my truck.

A heartbeat later, we’re shooting out of the parking lot and racing away from the garage as I continually dart my gaze between the road and my rearview.

Rapidly becoming pissed at myself that I’d just so recklessly risked my well-being when I have a woman at home who needs me.

Who is fighting to stay here, all the while growing more pissed at Russell, who put the kid shaking next to me in harm’s way as my need increases for his explanation.

“Jesus ... fuck,” I grit out, relief filtering in when I catch no signs of life behind us.

Glancing over, I see Zach plastered to his passenger door, a pang of guilt stinging me.

Pulling out my cell, I dial Russell, who doesn’t answer.

Irritation growing, I manage to compose a menacing text, threat included.

Russell’s not a fucking fool by any means.

His every step is just as calculated as mine.

So why would he leave a fucking kid so vulnerable in the garage?

“Tell me why you’re sleeping on a couch,” I prompt, keeping eagle eyes on our rearview while I press a little harder on the gas.

“D-Dom was my friend,” he utters. “You’re Tyler, r-right?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m a little on edge and don’t normally go around pulling guns on kids.

You just scared the shit out of me,” I tell him as he stares at me, eyes bugged wide.

“But I’m guessing I returned the favor. I’m really sorry if I scared you, but I wasn’t expecting you.

.. and am going to kill Russell,” I grumble.

“Please don’t,” he says, eyeing me as if I may see it through.

“Not like that, man,” I say through a chuckle I can’t help as I glance between him and the road, my anxiety easing slightly with every mile I put between us and the garage.

By his uneasy disposition—even after our introduction and the look of him as he continues to white-knuckle the passenger door handle—it’s obvious he’s experienced some heavy-handed trauma.

It’s everywhere on his person, which has my chest squeezing as I do my best to put us both more at ease. “So, Dom was your friend, how?”

He lowers his head as he settles slightly in my seat.

“He... looked out for me a lot up until about a year ago. Then he just... disappeared. He d-didn’t answer my calls.

But for a long time, as I was growing up, he would check on me even after he left for college.

He used to help me when my dad would—” He falters before he speaks again.

“C-can you please call Russell? I accidentally left my phone at the garage.”

Feeling his hesitance and urgent need to be in the company he trusts—which isn’t mine—I do my best to shuffle myself into that fold. “Look, I’ll admit that was a shit fucking introduction for the two of us, but I swear to God, I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Things are pretty tense right now.”

“I know about Miami,” Zach relays as my body draws tight.

“You what ?” I utter in disbelief as my cell phone buzzes. “Hold up, okay?”

Zach nods as I answer Russell’s call without speaking a word while sliding to a stop under the cover of some trees clustered on the roadside.

Quickly circling the truck to the passenger door to stand guard, when I’m confident enough we’re as safe as we can be for the moment, I finally lift the phone with a—“You want to explain to me why the fuck you left a ten-year-old kid in a hot spot for Miami?”

“I know I fucked up,” Russell replies instantly, “but I’ve got your twenty, and I’m coming straight to you... and he’s not ten. He just turned thirteen .”

“What? Not this kid, he’s ...” I trail off, glancing toward the truck.

“Yeah, man,” Russell sounds, “he’s thirteen.”

“Explain,” I snap.

“Dom kind of took him in, took care of him since he was young. His dad is this piece of shit who used him as a punching bag. Dom would buy him clothes and shoes, you know how he is... was ,” Russell corrects, his verbiage stinging us both as a short silence ensues.

“When Zach popped up at Dom’s funeral after everyone left and told me that Dom said to come to him if things got bad, I made the judgment call and took him with me.

I kept him at the compound at first. I finally took him home with me a few days ago, but Mom flipped shit tonight, had one of her moments.

You know how she gets. Zach’s been through enough, Tyler.

I don’t want him around her when she’s like that.

Just after we left my house to get a hotel for the night, I got pinged by Peter.

I had to think on my toes and tucked him away at the garage because I had no choice. ”

“Why in the fuck didn’t you fucking call me!”

“You know why,” he counters defensively.

“Everyone is dealing with so much, man, and I had a threat to take care of. I didn’t have the luxury of time, and I couldn’t fucking leave him streetside in the middle of the night.

Nothing around me was open. I’ve only been gone twenty minutes,” he says in exasperation.

“Everyone okay?”

“Yeah, false alarm. Peter thought Miami was at Eddie’s.”

“You sure it wasn’t them?” I snap in question.

“Yeah, brother,” he says, “positive, just some asshole causing shit, but Peter swore it was, so I raced to him.”

“Fuck!” I kick the gravel with my boots and the fact that I can’t be the eyes and ears I was months ago or stretch myself any further.

I can’t be there for all of Delphine’s treatments and carry out her orders.

I’m already breaking my promise to revolve the club around the two of us.

A promise I made years ago that she and I would come first. Ironically, breaking that promise now at her insistence.

Due to her unrelenting thirst for revenge, which conveniently matches my own, but has us losing precious time.

One thing at a time, Jennings.

But that’s the problem—as it is now, my multitasking days are getting more limited and seem over until we can start to anticipate Miami’s moves. As of now, we’re stuck on the offensive—something Delphine is working diligently to rectify.

Shifting my gaze to the kid who’s staring through the windshield in a daze, my chest tightens again at the sight of him. Brown hair and eyes, looking utterly lost, he briefly reminds me of a younger me.

“So ... he’s got no place to go?”

“All he had was his dad, and he’s not going back to him, Tyler. I’ll take him in. I’ll do what has to be done. Dom wanted him with us , brother. I’ll take responsibility. I’m not letting him—”

“This should have been brought to me. Period. What if his dad sets off an Amber Alert?”

“His dad hasn’t called his phone once since he left. Hasn’t bothered looking for him, man. I know I made the wrong call tonight, but Peter was bugging out.”

“Son of a bitch,” I grit out, feeling helpless to the fact we don’t have enough birds to cover every business and guard our borders. Peter’s state is indicative that we’re already stretched thin.

“Just sit tight, I’ll be there in five.” Russell misconstrues my frustration.

“I’ve got him. I should have brought him to Denny’s, but I had no fucking time,” he rushes out.

“Tyler ... I’m telling you, that kid has been through enough.

” Russell continues to sputter out more explanations as my mind races with solutions until a few of his words cut into my thoughts.

“... dad owns some gas station.”

“What?” I stop pacing and turn to stare at the kid who’s currently peering back at me through the passenger window of my truck. I now realize exactly why his eyes are familiar, even as I ask. “You say he’s thirteen ? Where is his mother?”

“Yeah, man, just turned last week. He’s been through hell. Says his mother left him when he was like three or four, had some affair or something, and his dad’s been fucking punishing him for it since.”

All the blood drains from my face as I keep the kid’s gaze while a fear-filled tear slowly trickles down his cheek. “Russell ... this is important,” I utter hoarsely, “was his mother’s name Grace? His dad’s name, Tim?”

“Yeah, I think so. You know them?”

“Yeah,” I manage as the gravity of who I’m peering at through the passenger glass sinks into me.

His eyes familiar because they belong to the toddler who squirmed in Grace’s arms nine years ago, his arms reaching out to me.

For me. An image forever burned into my memory.

“I’ve got him,” I hear myself speak, disbelieving of the words but feeling the decision in my gut. “I’ll get him safe ... I’ve got him.”

“What ... you sure? I’m good with him. We get along well. I—”

“Please trust me on this. I’ve got him. Just ... we’ll talk later but lock down that fucking garage. No one goes in or out until I say otherwise. And meet me at Denny’s tomorrow at noon. It’s time to get more aggressive.”

“I’ll be there,” he says, “but ... there’s a few things you need to know.” Russell’s tone has dread seizing me before he speaks. “Zach... can’t at all handle human touch, Tyler. At all, okay? Do not touch him.”

“His dad abused him that badly?”

“He left home because his dad beat him with an extension cord before he made him wrap it around his own neck... Jesus, man, I—”

“Tell me,” I order, chest seizing unbearably.

“Then he ordered Zach to sit tight while he went to scout the perfect spot for him to hang himself from.”

I drop my phone instantly, turning my back to Zach as the grief I’ve been holding at bay spills over my levee.

A breath later, I make a beeline for the cover of the trees, giving myself a few seconds of collection.

Fisting my hands at my sides, I absorb the latest blow and addition to the list of collateral damage left in the wake of Carter Jennings’s mistakes .

* * *

Half an hour later, I bend to press a kiss to Delphine’s temple as I murmur in her ear.

“Hey baby, can you wake up for me, please,” I whisper hoarsely.

Delphine slowly rouses from sleep before opening her gorgeous silver-gray eyes.

I see the happiness in her expression just before it dims, and I know it has nothing to do with any loss of enthusiasm in seeing me—but that she’s just realized within a blink that she’s living in an altered world.

One that Dom no longer exists in. My own grief is evident, along with the fear of the alteration I’m bringing to her as she gauges my expression.

In an instant, she’s lifting to sit, her eyes scouring me with concern.

“Soldier, what’s wrong?” She begins frantically searching me for any wounds as I grip her frantic, explorative hands.

“I’m fine, baby,” I assure her as her eyes dart to mine.

“Is Ezekiel—”

“He’s fine, too. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I whisper. “It’s not that serious,” I relay and then shake my head. “Actually, yeah, it is.”

“I am here, Soldier. Please tell me,” she utters.

Her expression remains guarded, and it’s then I wonder if we’ll ever experience real joy in full again without Dom.

If either of us will be capable of forgetting, for just a few seconds, about the matching hole now and forever punched into our gaping hearts.

Wanting more than anything to blink myself out, if only for a day, instead, I exhale a loaded breath.

“Please, Soldier, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m sad. I’m really sad right now, gutted ,” I admit honestly. “And I need my best friend. I need you, and I mean I really need you. I need both your permission and help. I-I, fuck .”

“I’m here, I’m here, Soldier,” she assures, covering me in her voice, her caress.

I glance back toward the closed bedroom door, knowing Zach is probably feeling more ill at ease in his skin than he ever has as he sits in our living room—isolated.

Probably wondering why the hell he’s been passed off by Russell and thinking he did something wrong to end up here.

Pushing all apprehension aside in my ask because of that fact alone.

For the way he must be feeling, the words begin to pour from my lips.

Ten minutes later, Delphine is fully dressed and pulling on her robe.

Clearing her eyes one last time, she glances back at me before opening our bedroom door and stalking down the hall toward the lost boy rattling with fear on our couch.