Page 73 of Severed Heart (The Ravenhood Legacy #2)

Chapter Forty

T YLER

B LINK .

Stalking toward the pin Russell sent, it’s the location adjacent to it that has dread coursing through me as I hasten my steps.

I’m already on edge about the fact that Dom picked Delphine up tonight from one of the last of the treatments she has left.

That and how Delphine’s body might respond so soon after detox.

Some of my anxiety stems from the fact that the start of Delphine’s therapy has been rough on her.

My mom came through in a major way for us both, giving me a hug before delivering a light tongue-lashing about visiting home, which I now deem Carter’s house.

Just after, she’d postured up like the professional she is.

Though technically, having my mother treat her might be a conflict of interest, I meant what I told Delphine.

Regina Jennings is the only one I trust with her.

And seeing as how they’ve never met before that day and that we’re not currently romantically involved, Mom is confident she can treat her objectively.

Not only did Regina Jennings take the edge off what I thought would be an awkward introduction to Delphine, but within half an hour, Mom made it to where Delphine felt comfortable enough to send me packing so they could begin their first session.

Therapy has seemed a good start, despite the rough days that have followed.

I’ve spent every night of them with her, sleeping across the hall in Dom’s bed, tossing and turning right along with her.

Before tonight, some of my anxiety has been from second-guessing if I did the right thing getting her to sort through the trauma that she’s already relived for two fucking decades.

But Mom assures me Delphine needs new coping mechanisms along with some much-needed altered perception of thinking about what was done to her.

In believing the same, I’m trusting that Mom truly knows best.

Anxious to get back to Delphine but growing even more so as I draw closer to the pin, I switch my focus, stalking toward the shadow standing next to the tree.

Dread fills me as I approach and glimpse Russell’s expression and the fact that we’re tucked away in the woods across the street from Peter’s house.

“Tell me right fucking now that he’s okay,” I demand, my soft spot for Peter evident amongst our birds since I recruited him from that jail cell. More obvious now as I scan his pitch-black house with my heart in my throat.

“Physically, yeah, mentally, not good,” Russell says, scanning the house with me.

“What happened?”

“His dad has been coming around the last few weeks. Apparently, one of Peter’s cousins jacked his jaws about how well he was doing and about buying the house and his mom a car.

So, of course, out of the fucking gutter comes dear old, drug-addicted Dad, who’s been stalking Peter and his mom collectively ever since.

He started by harassing his mom for money at the gas station she works at and claiming rights to see Annabelle.

Since then, he’s gotten more aggressive and has been pounding on their door during late hours, demanding money. ”

“The fuck?” I grit out. “Why didn’t he come to us?”

“I think he didn’t want to weigh us down with all the shit we have going on. He didn’t even tell me ,” he exhales heavily. “He probably assumed his dad would crawl back into the hole he came out of when he got nothing from his threats. But tonight, he fucking busted in the door.”

I don’t need Russell to put a voice to it, knowing precisely what happened next. “Please tell me Annabelle wasn’t here.”

“No, thank God, she’s still with the babysitter, and his mom is working the night shift at the gas station.”

“Were the neighbors home?” With Peter’s house sitting at the end of the last street inside the small subdivision, and the woods we’re standing in facing the front of his house, his only nearby neighbors are to his right.

“Not at the time. They pulled in ten minutes ago.”

“All right, no one was called, no blue lights?”

“No. We’ve already made sure a call wasn’t put in to anyone. It’s likely no one heard it. It was storming pretty hard earlier tonight, which was probably our saving grace.” Russell’s expression dims, his hesitancy earning him an impatient glare from me.

“Stop with the fucking suspense-filled pauses,” I snap. “Lay it all out, now .”

“Sorry, man. It’s just that his dad was rushing him, so it ended up being a point-blank shot that took him down, and it’s extremely fucking messy in that house. I pinged you here to keep traffic to a minimum until we figure out a plan.”

“You made the right call.” I palm his back, and he nods.

“We can access the house by the alley,” he relays.

I scan the quiet street—a street Peter has gone to great lengths to get to from the dilapidated trailer he lived in with a hole the size of a bowling ball in the floor.

A hole his father had beaten him unconscious in front of the day he bailed on them.

The amount of pride in Peter’s eyes the day he bought his house is one of the reasons I recruited him.

A milestone and home that is now and forever tainted by a memory that can’t and won’t be erased.

Anxious to get to him, I turn to Russell. “Where is he?”

“Inside,” he sighs, “we tried, man, but he can’t stop staring at him. He’s refusing to leave his side.”

“Fuck.” I palm my neck. “Get Denny out here to clean up, and tell him to bring his strongest mix,” I order.

Layla’s fiancé is our most trusted—and now our go-to—when it comes to precisely this type of situation.

An expertise of Denny’s that I discovered on a very hard night that I happened to be in town for years back.

“I did. He’s already on his way,” Russell replies, the fear in his tone for Peter amping my own. I press the side button on my G-SHOCK to give me the dimly lit time and keep our cover.

“How long until Mom’s shift ends?”

“Midnight.”

I nod. “Four hours. Plenty of time to make it happen if all birds are on deck. Round up our most discreet, most capable, and delegate. Renovate floor to ceiling and take it out of our piggy bank. I don’t care how it’s done, but get it done .

I’ll get him out of there and coach him through how to handle this as we pick up Annabelle. ”

“Done.” Russell takes off like a shot armed with our strategy.

Minutes later, I step through the back door via the alley.

The streetlight adjacent to the backyard streams through the thick kitchen blinds, lighting Peter up in divided, measured shadows where he sits feet away from his father’s lifeless body. The house utterly and eerily silent.

“Give me the room,” I order Jeremy, who’s standing in the kitchen next to the counter, arms crossed, his expression riddled with concern.

A heartbeat later, and with one last lingering glance, Jeremy wordlessly slips through the back door as I carefully bypass the pool of coagulating blood before crouching down and palming Peter’s shoulder.

Even in the dim light, I can see how pale he is, his expression haunted.

“Look at me, brother,” I whisper, hating the lasting effect this will have on him and knowing the nature of this expression all too well—his first kill.

Peter’s tear-filled eyes float over to mine, the agony there unmistakable.

It’s then that my instincts about him are confirmed.

It’s my job to know the limits of each of our Ravens, and though I had done my best to keep Peter closer to my wing—to shield him from this part of it—I could never truly save him from this fate.

Even so, this isn’t in any way an ideal introduction.

Peter’s part in our club is that of a criminal mastermind in helping Dom with recon and the planning and execution of heists, not human waste disposal.

With that in mind, I keep my gaze steady, my voice just as level. “Look at me, Peter.”

It takes a few seconds for his eyes to focus.

“Tyler,” he croaks, “I’m so sorry, I, am I ... a-am I out?”

“Keep your eyes on me and hear me . You had no choice. Even if you got him out tonight, he was never going to leave you alone. The first time you gave in and gave him a taste, he would have escalated it. You protected yourself and your family from a threat that was not going to go away. Rest easy. I won’t let you go down for this. ”

“Maybe I should,” he croaks, “I killed my own dad.” He swallows as a tear glides along his jaw. “Who does that?”

“A son and brother who will do anything to protect their family. We’ll get through this. I swear to you, brother. We’ll do it together. Let’s go.”

* * *

Two hours later—confident we’ve camouflaged Peter’s secret—I walk through Delphine’s door, bundled wildflowers twined together atop a pizza I picked up before Russell’s ping.

Unease sneaks in when I don’t feel Delphine anywhere close by.

Though her car is in the driveway, she doesn’t answer when I call her name.

On edge, I walk into the kitchen and glance around.

Setting the pizza and flowers on the table, I freeze when I see a small, familiar, empty brown bag on the counter.

Fuck.

Defeat tries to snake its way in, but I bat it away.

I knew there was a chance she’d have a setback during her initial battle and curse the fact that the club keeps me from being a more constant sober companion.

But I’m not giving up, and I’m sure as fuck not letting her slip be the last of our war.

It’s then I detect the low music playing just outside the sliding glass door.

Walking to it, I spot her sitting at the table, her back to me as she runs the end of an unlit cigarette along an ashtray.

Leaving the porch light off gives me little view of her, though her slumped posture screams defeat.