Page 20 of Vital Signs (Wayward Sons #7)

Hunter's restless movement tore me from sleep.

I bolted upright in the van's dim interior, heart hammering as my eyes found him hunched on the bed's edge, left leg bouncing constantly. Sweat drenched his clothes despite the cold seeping through the windows. When he tried to stand, muscle cramps forced him down again.

"Hunter." I reached for his shoulder, and he flinched away.

"Can't get comfortable." His voice was strained. "Everything aches. Feels like my bones are trying to crawl out of my skin."

I'd witnessed withdrawal before. In Paris, during my modeling days, I'd watched other models crash after fashion week binges, seen photographers shake through cocaine comedowns, witnessed the ugly aftermath when the party drugs stopped working.

But watching someone I cared about suffer through it was different.

"How long?" I asked.

"Ten hours since my last hit." He wiped his nose again, then immediately repeated the motion. "The real hell starts in a couple of hours. This is just the warm-up."

"Water," I said, grabbing a bottle from the mini-fridge. "You need to stay hydrated."

Hunter's hands trembled as he took the bottle, the shaking more pronounced than it had been hours ago. When I moved to help him anyway, he jerked back.

"I don't need you to..." His voice cracked as another cramp hit his calf.

"Need me to what?" I caught his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. My thumb brushed along his jawline. "Take care of you? Because in a few hours, you're going to be puking your guts out."

Something dangerous flickered in his gaze. "Careful, pretty boy. I might be getting sick, but I'm still me."

"Good." I guided the bottle to his lips anyway, my hand settling at the back of his neck. "I'd hate for withdrawal to make you boring."

He drank, then pulled away, his restless energy making him shift constantly on the bed. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "There's money in my jacket," Hunter said, panic creeping in. "You could drive me to—"

"No." I caught his arm as he shifted restlessly, noting how he immediately shook me off and kept moving. My fingers found his wrist instead, circling it gently. "I survived Roche's laboratory. I bet I can handle whatever you think you'll become."

Hunter stared at me. "Why?"

Because you chose to stay last night instead of choosing the needle. Because you trusted me enough to let me witness this. Because somewhere between the clinic break-in and your mouth on my skin, I stopped being able to imagine going through this hunt alone.

"Because Tyler deserves justice," I said instead. "And Wright's going to destroy every piece of evidence while you're chasing your next fix."

A muscle jumped in Hunter's jaw, but before he could respond, the sound of car doors slamming cut through the morning air.

I moved to the window, peering through the gap between the curtains. Two vehicles had surrounded the van. My stomach dropped as I counted the figures emerging. River, Xander, and Annie.

"Fuck," I breathed.

"What?" Hunter tried to look over my shoulder, but another spasm doubled him over.

"Family."

River approached the van's rear doors, stopping just outside. His voice carried clearly through the metal walls. "Misha. Come out. We need to talk."

Hunter looked like hell, but there was no avoiding this confrontation.

"Stay here," I told Hunter, grabbing clothes from the floor.

I pulled on boxer briefs and jeans quickly, the denim like ice against my skin, then grabbed a sweater and yanked it over my head.

Hunter was already reaching for his own clothes, movements clumsy from the cold and withdrawal symptoms. "Try not to die while I handle this. "

"Misha..."

"Stay here."

I opened the van's rear doors and stepped out into the bitter January morning.

The cold hit like a slap after the warmth we'd maintained through shared body heat.

Three pairs of eyes tracked my movement, taking in my rumpled clothes, my tangled hair, the smell of cannabis and sex that probably clung to my skin.

"Morning," I said, trying for casual. "Breakfast run?"

River's expression didn't change. "We tracked your phone to this location. Been calling for the past hour. When you didn't answer, Annie got worried."

Of course. I'd turned my phone back on at three AM to check the news. Forgot the family could track it. Stupid mistake.

"I'm fine, as you can tell." I gestured at myself. "No need for a rescue mission."

"Are you?" Annie stepped forward, her gaze moving from my rumpled clothes to my tangled hair. Her mouth pressed into a thin line. "Because you look like someone who's been making poor decisions."

Heat flared in my chest. Poor decisions. Like I was some wayward teenager instead of a grown man who'd survived things they couldn't imagine.

"My decisions are mine to make."

"Not when they affect family safety." River pulled out a tablet, swiping to what looked like a news article. "Wright filed a complaint about the clinic break-in. Federal crime due to HIPAA violations."

Xander stepped forward, and the hurt in his eyes made my stomach twist. "Misha, just tell us you weren't involved. Tell us this is some misunderstanding."

The plea in his voice almost broke my resolve. Xander had been my closest ally in the family, the one who understood what it meant to be different, to be reduced to your trauma instead of recognized for your strength. But even he was asking me to lie.

"I can't do that."

River's jaw tightened. "Where's your friend? Hunter?"

Hunter appeared in the doorway. "I'm here," he managed.

"We're fine," I said firmly. "Better than fine."

"Are you?" Annie gestured at Hunter's obvious condition. "I've seen what happens when people make major decisions during detox, honey. It's not pretty."

Hunter's jaw tightened. His shoulders hunched inward, and he looked away. The same posture I'd seen when he talked about losing his nursing license. Shame, written in every line of his body.

The sight of it made something fierce rise in my chest.

"Enough." I stepped between them, fury burning through my veins. My hand found Hunter's arm behind me, a firm grip that said I wasn't backing down. "Don't you dare talk about him like that."

River's expression went cold. "This is exactly like Roche," River said. "You're latching onto someone who makes you feel special."

"Hunter is nothing like Roche."

I glanced back at Hunter, who stood steady despite his deteriorating condition. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and his hands trembled at his sides, but his eyes were locked on me with the same intensity that had made me want to push him until he snapped.

Like he was daring me to choose the safe option. Like he knew I wouldn't.

Even in early withdrawal, the cocky bastard was still challenging me.

"We're trying to protect you," Annie said, and her voice carried genuine hurt now, not just concern. "After everything we did to keep you safe, after bringing you here, giving you a home... you throw it away for a stranger?"

"Hunter isn't a stranger anymore."

"Three days, Misha," Xander's voice cracked. "And you're choosing him over us? After everything we've been through?"

I turned to face him. "I don’t owe you my autonomy forever."

River cut in. "Hunter's nervous system is in crisis right now. That makes him unpredictable."

"Dangerous, you mean," I said. "Say what you really think."

"Fine. Yes. He's a liability. And you're too close to see it." River's expression didn't change. "Not evil. Not worthless. But dangerous because he can't think straight, and he's pulling you into his chaos."

I looked at Hunter again. His expression had gone carefully blank, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers curled into fists at his sides. Something in his eyes said he half-believed them.

That he was dangerous. That he was pulling me down. That I deserved better.

The realization made fury bloom white-hot in my chest.

"You literally kill people, but Hunter's the threat?" I said. "I'm done being your victim."

"We held a family meeting," River said after a long moment. "Everyone voted. We're going after Wright, but you need to step back. You're too close to this, too angry to think clearly. We'll handle the investigation through proper channels first."

"Then I guess I'm on my own."

"Misha." Annie stepped forward. "Don't do this. Don't throw away everything we've built because you're angry."

"I'm not angry. I'm tired." I met her eyes. "I lived through the system's failure in Paris. I know how it protects men like Wright. Tyler is dead because Wright saw him as disposable. More people are dying right now while you want me to file complaints that will disappear into bureaucracy."

"So, your solution is to commit federal crimes?" River asked. "To burn every bridge you have chasing revenge with someone who can barely stand up straight?"

"My solution is to act on knowledge instead of hope."

"That's not knowledge," River said. "That's trauma. And you're letting it control you."

The silence that followed carried weight. River had drawn the line. Choose their way, or lose them.

I studied their faces. Then I looked back at Hunter, leaning heavily against the van's side, sweat dripping from his temples. "You're damn right I'm choosing him over you."

I watched the realization hit them. River's eyes narrowed. Annie's mouth pressed into a thin line. Xander looked like I'd shot him.

They saw it too. The moment I crossed the line from defending a friend to burning bridges.

No going back now.

"Not because I don't love you," I continued, my voice carrying steel now, no longer the damaged boy they'd rescued from Paris.

"But because he's the only person who's looked at me and seen someone worth trusting with life and death decisions.

The only one who doesn't treat me like I'm made of glass. "

Xander made a choked sound, as if I'd physically struck him.