Page 160

Eight

Time to heal

A fter eating breakfast, everyone starts to pack up. I’m debating how to handle this. Doc says I need to rest, which I plan on doing back at The Ring while planning for the meeting in a few days, but then I hear the yells.

Cars are approaching on the horizon.

Everyone scrambles into defence mode as I peer out, but as I watch the sand kicking up around the tires, I realise who they are—Vert, it has to be.

So I lean back against my bike and wait while others rush around me.

I don’t want to look weak, and today, my legs are shaking, so leaning back might look like I don’t have a care in the world, but honestly, it’s to keep me upright.

My men and people are spread out behind me, but I raise my hand to stop them from firing.

The cars stop a few meters away, the sand slowly settling around them as their engines idle.

I wait, a bead of sweat dripping down my spine as a car door slowly opens.

I keep my hands loose and near my swords, ready just in case.

But I was right, it is Vert. I guess now is as good a time as any.

He looks the same as the last time I saw him.

His bright blue eyes are hidden by his sunglasses, his chin and cheeks are covered in stubble, and his brown hair shines bright in the sun.

His body is encased in a three-piece suit with a few holes here and there, but he’s very put together compared to me.

I don’t let him see how that affects me, instead, I tilt my head back like the queen I am.

He stops between his car and my bike, leaving space between us with his hands out peacefully to the sides. “Worth.” He nods .

I nod back, not giving a shit about the pleasantries. “How are The Cities?”

He smirks then before pulling down his sunglasses and wiping them on his shirt. “Like you predicted, it’s under my rule now, and I will ensure our people stop starving and dying. The soldiers have been killed or run out.”

I nod as he puts them back on. “Do I need to worry about you?” I ask.

He shakes his head as he looks behind me. “I don’t want The North, and I wouldn’t be able to take it anyway. It’s yours. We will stay in our Cities, and you will stay in your Wastes. I would like a truce between us. One day, we could even start trading if that would be okay?”

“A truce,” I agree, as murmurs go through the crowd. “But know this, you remember who put you on that throne. This is our land. Ours. You break this truce, and we will destroy you like we did the people before you and the people before that.”

He grins. “Understood, and warning received. I’m going to head back now, lots to do, as I’m sure you understand. There is still corruption in the government I need to wipe out. I imagine you have a lot to do as well. I will send a messenger once I am sure it is safe, and we can discuss terms.”

He turns away and begins walking back to his car, but then he pauses. “Oh, and Worth?” When he looks back, he grins. “Congratulations on your victory, Queen of The North.”

He gets back in his car, and the engines rev as they pull away, spraying sand and dirt up behind them.

I watch as the vehicles fade into the distance, racing towards The Cities.

It’s done. I don’t think we will have any issues with them now.

I relax, almost slumping into the bike. I worried he would turn on us after, but he seems like a businessman.

Smart and calculating, he knows he needs us, so he will stay there, and like he said…

we have a truce. It could work well for both of us.

Priest and Nan step up next to me. Jon follows behind them, as if unsure of his welcome. “We are heading back home for now. Shit to do. See you soon,” he offers, and then turns to leave.

Priest nods at me, his usual black wavy hair frizzy from the heat.

Unlike the first time I saw him, it’s unstyled and a bit wild.

His face has stubble growing across it, but his cold eyes are still the same.

He’s wearing his priest robes again, and his power makes me shiver as he stares.

I never understood this man, but I respect his leadership skills and the fear he creates.

He might be insane, he might run a cult, but he’s a good ally to have.

“Until the angels cry and the sinners beg.”

Yep, just as batshit .

He leaves, and Nan and I watch him go. “He’s short one too many screws.” She laughs, and I smile. “Go home, kid, and get some rest. Let those strapping young men wait on you hand and foot. I heard orgasms are good for healing.” She winks before disappearing too.

My men surround me again, and I stare out at The Wastes. “Let’s go home.”

I help pack up, but I can’t ride my bike back, so Jax does it for me.

When I tried to swing my leg over, my stomach had me almost screaming, not to mention my shoulder.

Dray took one look at me, picked me up, and deposited me in one of the trucks, kissing me hard to distract me from slicing his throat.

So now I’m in the back seat, like some pompous broken ass, being driven back to The Ring. My men ride next to me on their bikes, while Evan is in the seat with me, checking over my stomach, even as I try to push away his faffing hands.

“Stop it,” he snaps, pissed. “Your stitches are tearing, you need to be more careful.”

“It’s fine, I’ve had worse,” I retort as I yank down my shirt.

He sits back with a sigh and stares at me. “Worth, you almost died. You still could if you aren’t careful, your body died… Your wound is bad. Really bad. Just for once, do as you’re told.”

“Not in my vocabulary, Doc, sorry.” I wink, sitting back with a wince as my stomach burns with pain, but I ignore it.

The trip doesn’t take too long. I spend it looking out of the window, making lists of what I need to do when we get back. They will all be looking to me now, including the other leaders, so I need to have answers and plans. Almost dying isn’t an excuse not to have them.

We almost die out here every day. A little sword wound won’t stop me.

When we reach The Ring, we pull up to the gate, and the driver looks back at me—he’s one of Major’s men. “Welcome home, queen.” He stops and glances at Doc before looking back to me. “What you did…it was fucking amazing. Don’t stop now. I’ll follow wherever you lead, we all will.”

I nod at him, unsure what to say, and push my door open.

I slide out into the blinding heat, stumbling slightly.

Gritting my teeth, I force my feet under me and lean casually against the car to gather my strength as my men stop around me and dismount.

The looks they give me show they know I’m worse than I’m letting on, but they don’t say anything.

Maxen does wrap his arm around me, like he is simply holding me as I pull away from the car, but he takes most of my weight.

My feet drag slightly on the sand as I walk.

I’m still exhausted and feeling weak, not a feeling I like.

Luckily, I shouldn’t have any fighting to do today, unless I have to play smack a bitch on some fools.

Some of our people are already here, setting up camp inside the gate. We sent the injured back to be treated yesterday, and those coming in today still need to be looked at, but knowing the Berserkers and Major’s men, they won’t get checked out unless they are dying or their limbs are falling off.

The gates begin to open for us. We left some guards here in case anyone had any ideas about attacking while we were gone, after all, there are still rogues, scavs, and roadies out there.

When they swing wide, I freeze in horror, scanning the dead and dying. There are so many leaning against enclosures and lying on the ground, some have tops, jackets, and sheets over their faces, their bodies limp. One is covered in a shirt, his bloody, unmoving hand the only part of him I can see.

The injured are wrapped in homemade bandages, and others being treated as water is passed around. I spot men without eyes, and one has half of his face caved in, with blood flowing down it and through the rag he’s holding there to try and stop it. Some are missing legs and arms.

The smell of blood, piss, and shit is rife, as is the sweet smell of infection and decay.

Their gazes swing my way, some begging me for help, but I can’t do anything. I have nothing to aid them. I feel each stare like a punch in the gut, making it hard to breathe.

So many eyes.

So many expectations.

The odds of a fight never bothered me before because it was just me who risked losing, but looking at these men, faced with the overwhelming loss, is almost crippling.

But then something happens.

A murmur goes through the amassed injured. Some struggle to their knees, their heads starting to bow as I blink in confusion. “What’s happening?” I murmur to Maxen, but he doesn’t answer.

More and more get to their knees and bow their heads.

A big man with half his face bandaged and one of his legs bloody and bent at a wrong angle swears as he tries to get to his knees.

He grabs the man tending to him and snarls right in his face.

“Help me to my fucking knees, boy! That’s our goddamn queen. ”

I step forward then, releasing Maxen, and fall to my own knees before him, making him freeze. “Don’t, stay still, you’re injured. Your life means more to me than some gesture.”

He shakes his head, and using the man beside him, he drags himself to his knees.

“It’s not just a gesture, my queen, it is an honour to be on my knees for the woman willing to sacrifice her life to save us all.

We kneel for you, for your sacrifice…to let you know we see it.

We respect it, and we will follow you always.

You gave everything for us, now it is our turn. ”

I am speechless once again as I stand and turn, looking at everyone bowing to me. The pain must be unimaginable for some, but they still don’t move, don’t hesitate. One of them bangs his fists on the dirt, and the others copy, the sound loud, like one beating heart.

“Champion, Champion,” they chant.

I stand in the middle, astonished, unable to look away from the sight before me. Warriors from all across The Wastes kneel side by side with my moniker on their lips.

It echoes around us, taken up by the arriving warriors. All around me, warriors, hunters, men, and women fall to their knees, calling my name. The first time I came here, I was a slave, no one knew me, I was insignificant…but now.

Now they call for me. Chant for me. Kneel for me.

I wish Major was here to see it, he would be so proud, but in a way, I know he is. He created this place for me, for us, a safe haven. And now it’s our home, a place for those lost and damned, a place for people all over The Wastes.

And it is filled with my name.

I soak it up, saturating the part of me that is grieving and angry. I let their honour and belief wash through me until I am full once again.

I reach my hand down to the man closest to me and help him to his feet. “We’ve lived too long on our knees, brother,” I tell the Berserker. He, in turn, grabs the next man and helps him up, and so on and so forth, until we are all standing.

All free men and women on our feet.

Freedom, it’s worth dying for, worth burning the world for.

I didn’t give them that, it could only be taken. And they did, so did I.

Eventually, they stop and settle back down, resting again and letting their wounds be treated. My men step up behind me, and Maxen’s arm wraps around my waist as we start to walk down the sand-covered track, winding through the empty enclosures and buildings to my rooms.

I make it inside the structure before I falter. My legs crumple under me, and I try to get back up as Dray takes my other side, but I can’t, my head lowering in shame. “I can’t walk.”

Without a word, I am swung up into Dray’s arms, and he carries me effortlessly up the stairs to my usual room. Jax opens the door before we get there so Dray can carry me in and lay me down gently on the sofa with a kiss. “Then I will walk for you, soulmate.”

But an injured, dying warrior is useless…and left behind. I know my men would never do that, however, so I won’t make them watch me die. I will get through this and be stronger than ever.

I have to.