Page 38

Bittersweet

W e hurry from the settlement, women and men stopping to watch us as we wait impatiently for the bus to move from the gate.

Maxen binds my shoulder, staunching the bleeding, but I still feel weak.

Even walking to the bikes seems to tire me.

I keep pushing myself step after step, only concentrating on the road in front of me.

I can't quite manage to ride so I sit in front of Drax on my bike. He leaves his bike at The Worshippers. I have to fight my eyes closing. I’m that bone tired, my whole body seems to shut down.

At least we survived the cult though, even if it wasn't exactly smooth.

Now to get back to The Ring and The Summit before Dray goes all medieval and starts burning down The Wastes looking for me.

I need to try and clean my wounds at some point as well, an infection can set in too easy out here and that would mean my death.

I don’t bother telling the guys that my body is burning up and that I can already feel an infection setting in from my wounds yesterday.

I just pray we get back to The Ring in time to get it under control.

All I can seem to care about at the moment though is Drax’s arms holding me to him. Offering me his strength.

“Just hold on, babe, only two days ride if we don’t stop.”

I nod and lean my weight back against him. I must doze off because the next thing I know, Drax is crying out behind me as the bike swerves and flips.

I fly from it, the sound of metal grinding on the concrete as the road rushes up towards me.

I land with a sickening crunch. My body is numb and I can’t seem to kick my brain into action, instead, darkness is closing in and my eyes are blurring.

I fight it with everything in me but I am dragged into unconsciousness, kicking and screaming.

Groaning, I flick my eyes open. My head is banging and all I can see is the grains of dust on the road in front of me, stained red from my blood.

I must lose a couple of seconds again because when I come to again, I see Drax a couple of feet away, his eyes closed and an arrow sticking from his back.

Gasping, I push myself to my feet, my body protesting but all I can focus on is Drax.

I stumble to my feet and over to him, my body swaying and blood pumping from my wounds.

“Taz!” Thorn yells. I must miss a few seconds again, which can’t be good, but when I come back to, I see the others fighting Berserkers just down the road from us.

I have no time to be scared or let the anger at them take hold.

Shakily, I pull my sword and hesitate. I can't leave Drax alone but I can't let my guys fight this battle, no matter how good they are - Berserkers are better.

I hesitate for too long and Thorn goes down, his body slumping against the ground, where it lays unmoving as a Berserker stands over him letting out a war cry.

His blonde braids flying as he bangs his chest, his symbolic shield strapped at his side.

Crying out, I stumble across the ground, intent on getting to Thorn to protect him, only to stop when I hear running feet from behind me.

Whirling, I see another Berserker warrior with his eyes locked on Drax.

I fling myself across the distance and cover Drax’s body as the man’s axe is about to drop.

Closing my eyes, I wait for the death blow.

When it doesn’t fall, I lift my head. A knife sticks from the man's chest as he tumbles to the ground, his shield falling to his side. Not wasting any time, I turn, worriedly feeling for Drax’s pulse.

It's weak, but still there. Sands below, there is no way for us to win this.

Not with Thorn and Drax down and me half dead.

Maybe, just maybe, if I hand myself over they will leave my guys alone?

But I know better than that, so it looks like I have a choice.

Try to run and save myself, or die fighting with them.

Pushing myself to my feet, I stand in front of Drax, both of my swords held before me.

They die, I die. I won’t die on my knees either, but fighting with everything in me.

I just pray we meet again, in another life where we have a chance to be together.

Breathing deeply, I let everything else go.

I become the monster, The Champion. I will die the way I lived, fighting to the last breath.

The next couple of minutes are a blur as I fight and slash like a demon.

I ignore the pain and weakness and keep urging myself to go faster.

I don’t know where the others are but I can't afford to worry. My whole world becomes protecting the man I love. I don’t hold myself back, no worries about my life anymore.

I will take as many of these bastards with me as I can.

Chest heaving, I misstep and a punch hits the side of my head. Another rains down as I fall to the ground. The Berserker above me rains down hell, kicking every part of me he can. I crawl to Drax and cover his body as the man carries on with his attack.

I try to fight away the encroaching darkness but my body is shutting down.

Maybe I'm dying, I think casually. It's sad that it is now, just as I started living. I wish I could see them one more time, tell Drax that I love him too. Tell all of them how lucky I was to know them. Have them hold me, just once more. But that’s not the way the world works. Death isn't pretty and people don’t always get to say goodbye, that’s why living every day, every second like it’s your last is so important.

I regret now that I didn’t. I let fear and shame cloud everything until I was nothing more than a body, an empty shell, going through the motions.

I hear something in my body crack as the man carries on his assault. Leaning forward, ignoring the agony in me, I kiss Drax’s lips one last time, smearing my blood on him.

“I love you too,” I whisper, my voice cutting off as I cough up blood.

The last thing I see as I cover Drax’s unconscious body is Jax fighting like a demon to get to us.

His horror-stricken eyes meeting mine as he calls out to me, heartbroken, the knowledge in his eyes that he will be too late.

I try to let him know it’s okay, and that I’m sorry I got them into this.

I spot Maxen behind him, standing over Thorn, roaring like a beast. A white, blinding light cuts through everything before everything goes dark.

My last thoughts are for the men who hold my heart and a prayer that we will meet again.

What the ever-loving-fuck? If this is death, does it have to be so bright?

I slam my eyes shut and wait before slowly opening them again, allowing them to adjust to the bright sunlight streaming in.

With a gasp, I snap upright, remembering what happened.

My stomach rebels and pain shoots through me but I push it away.

Drax! Shit, where are they? I need to get to them, I need to know they are okay.

In my panic, I slide off the bed I was laying on and try to stand, only to fall to the floor with a grunt.

Looking down, I see I'm only in my bra and panties and a huge bandage is wrapped around me from ribs to the bottom of my stomach. Road rash from hitting the ground, after falling of the bike, covers my left thigh and bruises cover most of my body. I hate to think about what my face looks like. That's when the pain hits again and I nearly writhe on the floor with the force of it. It’s like my whole body is an open wound, the agony races through my veins as I bite my tongue to stop from screaming. I have a feeling that if I start, I won’t stop.

Breathing through it, I let my body adjust. When it’s at a more manageable level, I sit up slowly and grasp the edge of the bed to pull myself up to sit on it.

Frowning, I poke at my ribs and stomach.

Shit, shit, shit. Bad idea. Closing my watering eyes, I wait until the pain retreats again.

Breathing deeply, I open my eyes again and finally take in the room I’m in.

Glass windows run from ceiling to floor, the source of the sunlight.

My eyes linger on them, but I force myself to look around.

The room is white and looks like hospital rooms from when I was little.

I’m sitting on a single bed with a metal railing, which is one of the only two pieces of furniture in the room.

The other, a chair, sits in the corner of the room with a red bit of material draped over it.

Swinging my eyes around, I try to remember what happened.

The last thing I saw was bright lights. So it has to have something to do with that.

A red blinking light in the corner of the room catches my attention and makes me scowl.

A camera is perched way up out of reach, fucking perverts.

I look around for my weapons and only get even more pissed when I don’t find them.

Standing shakily on my feet, I make my way to the chair, wondering if they are hidden there.

It takes a while since I’m unsteady on my feet, but eventually, I reach it.

Fingering the silky material draped across the chair, I lift it.

I cringe when I realise it’s a dress. Fucking brilliant.

How the hell am I supposed to fight in this thing?

The back is cut low, almost to where my bum would be and then falls in a waterfall.

The train is so long I’ll probably slip on it, the front is higher neck.

Unwilling to wear the impractical material, I look around for anything I can use as a weapon.

I really don’t want to be caught half naked, but it’s better than not being able to move and fight.

Making my way to the bed, I slump back down, seeing nothing of use.

Frowning at my feet that are leaving dirty footprints on the pristine checkered floor, I try to get my muddled brain to figure out a plan.

My usual calm and collected self is nowhere to be seen, instead, I’m terrified about what has happened to my men. Ugh.

I slam my fists on the bed in frustration and the pillow moves with the force, showing something shiny underneath it.

Looking around again, I put my back to the camera and pull the blade out from its hiding space.

Despite the circumstances, I find myself smiling.

Only four men know I sleep with a blade under my pillow.

It means at least one of them must be alive. But how?

A buzz from behind me has me spinning, keeping the blade hidden behind my thigh. The door that I didn’t notice before, slides open and a man steps through with a hesitant smile on his face.

He’s older than the last time I saw him, wrinkles line his eyes and his cheeks are red from the sun.

But that smile I would remember anywhere, the corners stretch so far I always imagined it would one day stretch over his whole face.

He even still has the little white scar under his lip, from when I accidentally head-butted him.

“Daddy?” My voice is rough, but shock courses through me, making me forget the thirst that is settling in.

How is this possible? What the hell is going on?

His smile widens and he steps further into the room.

I warily eye the man who raised me. He’s wearing a clean white dress shirt open to show the tank underneath, his black pants are tucked into brown boots.

He’s bigger than I remember, more muscle.

He has salt and pepper hair now, but still, those bright blue eyes.

Eyes that I used to see every night in my dreams, eyes I begged for in my darkest, weakest moments.

Now here they are, watching me. Looking exactly as I remember.

How is he alive? Why now? Why him? Questions run rampant in my battered and abused brain, as my heart clenches from the pain of seeing the only remaining member of my family, one I thought long dead.

He watches me cautiously, but his face is reflecting pure happiness.

“Hi, princess, welcome home.”