Burn Like An Angel (Harrowdean Manor #2)

11. Lennox

CHAPTER 11

LENNOX

IN YOUR ARMS – CROIXX

Ripley’s round curves are featherlight in my arms. She’s too small. Dainty. A delicate, tattooed shell holding so much beautiful fury. The same fury I’ve tasted first-hand.

I still wonder how such a tiny body can hold all that rage. What I wouldn’t give for her to peel open her angry, hazel eyes and curse me out right now. I’d take any insult she wants to lash me with.

She can beat me black, blue and every shade of the fucking rainbow if she so pleases. As long as she’s awake. As long as she’s alive. Then we can go back to hating each other. I’ll give her that.

“Is it clear?” I heave in exertion.

Xander peers through a dirt-streaked window, the thick cobwebs obscuring our view of the other farm buildings we stumbled across. We must’ve walked for miles before exiting the forest and finding signs of life.

“Helicopter still overhead.”

“The same one?” Raine asks tiredly.

“Looks like it. They’re circling the area.”

Cradling Ripley close, I keep my uninjured hand clamped on her upper thigh. The bleeding has slowed to a sluggish trickle. Xander tore up one of our spare shirts to tie a tourniquet before bandaging his own hand.

She’s still lost a considerable amount of blood, enough for her to keep dropping in and out during the hours we’ve been stealthily moving. I can feel it sticking to me, saturating my already filthy clothing.

“It’s been hours.” Raine rests nearby, keeping a hand on Ripley’s pulse. “They’ll give up soon.”

“You think Incendia cares about a private helicopter bill?” Xander ridicules. “That wanker Elon said it himself. We’re loose ends.”

Back pressed against the wall, I glance down at Ripley again. Her sweetheart-shaped face is ashen. Waxy. The bullet passed straight through—I found the exit wound. That doesn’t make blood loss any less deadly.

It’s a miracle we escaped at all without catching another bullet. They sure fired enough of them after us before attempting to scale the security fence. I caught a glimpse of an over-confident guard falling on his ass before we made a run for it.

I have no doubt they eventually followed. On foot as well as in the air. The near-impenetrable woodland that keeps Harrowdean Manor secure from the outside world did us a favour. It was easy to lose their tail.

But now that we need to find safety? Not so great. We also need food, water and medical attention. Our varying degrees of mud-streaked skin, unkempt hair and drawn faces will scare anyone off.

“We need to find a doctor. A pharmacy. Anything,” I fret anxiously. “Her wound needs treating.”

Xander abandons his watch to approach us. The juicy vein throbbing at his temple betrays his anxiety, even if he’s plastered his steely mask back in place for the sake of remaining calm.

He isn’t fooling me.

Tension he can no longer suppress pulls his skin tight across sharp angles and defined bones. While he uses his ethereal looks to his advantage when hunting prey, he looks more like a starved ghost than a model right now.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere.” He studies Ripley’s slack face. “Harrowdean is deep in the countryside, miles from the nearest town or city.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Raine drawls.

I jerk my chin towards the odd buildings scattered outside. “Someone must live nearby. Or there’s another farm close. It can’t be that much farther.”

“You’re forgetting that we’re fugitives now,” Raine interjects. “Who would help us? They’ll just call the police.”

“We don’t know what the public’s been told,” I reason, trying to cling to some calmness. “Blackwood already fell before the riot. Now Harrowdean. People know we’re victims now.”

“Do you really believe that?” Xander laughs coldly. “No one gives a fuck about us.”

“Now is not the time to debate hypotheticals, Xan. No one knows our faces or our stories. We can use that to our advantage.”

“What about Sabre Security?” Raine shifts uncomfortably against the wall.

I want to facepalm even though he can’t even see me to appreciate the sentiment. This is where our levels of optimism differ greatly.

The asshole Ripley thinks is her friend either got himself killed or abandoned us to die. I’m not about to bet anything on this mysterious company coming to our rescue any time soon.

We’re all quiet while deep in thought. The sound of beating rotors seems to be moving farther away, giving me a small sliver of hope. They’re searching a wide radius. The woods stretch on for miles behind us.

“We keep moving,” Xander decides in a firm tone. “If Incendia’s searching for us, they haven’t been dismantled yet.”

“And we’re still in danger,” Raine concludes.

“As long as they’re operating, we will never be safe. I’m all for running, but unravelling criminal conspiracies can take years. We’ll have to stop running sometime.”

“Says who?” I retort.

His icy-blue eyes flash to me. “Be realistic.”

“I am! We are not surrendering to those bastards!”

“Nobody is suggesting we surrender.” Raine fidgets with his folded guide stick. “Right, Xan?”

“Not to the corporation,” he clarifies. “But if Sabre really is investigating and planning to shut down all the institutes, cooperation may be our only chance.”

My mind whirls as I catch on to his plan. Warner didn’t come through for us. So what, Xander wants to contact his team himself? We’ll be feeding ourselves to the wolves—just under a different guise. I don’t trust any of these corporate suits.

“We need to get back online.” Xander sighs wearily, buckling under the weight of the day. “I can swipe some phones if we find a town or city.”

“You can?” Raine wonders aloud.

“Sure. Easy.”

I know a little about Xander’s criminal past. He was sent to Priory Lane for some elaborate embezzlement scheme, and he’s happiest with his fingertips touching a keyboard. I know he has a talent for theft. The rest is a mystery, much like the man himself.

“I don’t trust anyone but the people in this room.” I blow out a leaden breath. “We’re not surrendering, cooperating… whatever the fuck you want to call it. We keep running until it’s safe to stop.”

Our gazes locked, Xander seems determined to freeze me out. The way he glowers at me chills my internal organs. But I’m not afraid of him. The time for him to call the shots is over. We all have a stake in this.

I look back down at Ripley.

Her.

Even if I’ve done a terrible job of showing my intentions so far. Every time I see her, I just get so wound up. She knows exactly how to push all the right buttons to drive me fucking insane.

“I can’t hear the helicopter anymore.” Raine tilts his blonde head, listening closely. “Are we clear to move?”

Xander drops his stare then returns to the window. I shift Ripley in my arms, cracking my neck to loosen the kink that’s formed. Her dried blood pulls at my skin, adding to my unease.

“I hate this,” Raine mutters. “We’re sitting ducks.”

“Me too. How’s her pulse?”

I watch his fingers tighten on her wrist.

“Thready but strong. She’s exhausted and lost a lot of blood. I think it’s normal for her to dip in and out. You need to keep her warm, though.”

“Yeah, I’m on it.”

His thumb circles her skin in a loving, affectionate caress. We’re facing life and death, but I can’t stop my mind from flashing back to the moments before we ran for our lives. It’s seared into my memory.

The powerful look on her face as she drove my friend to ecstasy with her filthy mouth. The way Raine flexed beneath her, so perfectly in tune to her body. Ripley swallowing his load before proudly licking her damn lips.

I’ve never considered the possibility of sharing a woman before—no matter how much I love the family I found in the shittiest of times. Fuck, I never considered touching Ripley until recently. At least not consciously.

But in that moment, it took all my self-control not to bend her over Raine, strip her tight ass bare and sink into her cunt while he fucks her smart mouth. I wanted to take that powerful look she wore and obliterate it.

Needing to earn Ripley’s forgiveness is one thing—I can chalk it up to a guilty conscience—but this possessive need to protect her, to love and to hold her… That’s something I never anticipated. Not even when we kissed in the padded cell.

I thought if I kept my distance, used cruelty to hide these strange new impulses… they would go away. My secret would be safe. But the longer we’re trapped in this together, the harder it’s becoming to battle my desires.

I want her.

Us.

Any tiny fucking scrap she’ll give me.

“Nox!” Xander snaps me back to reality. “We’re moving.”

“Right. Coming.”

Shifting Ripley higher against my chest, I push off from the wall. Raine may own her heart right now, but I have something he doesn’t. Something he’ll never have. And that feels so fucking good.

Their love will never compare to the addictive intoxication of our hatred for each other. I have the real power here. Namely, the sole ability to fix what I once broke. Only someone intimately familiar with her pain can ever hope to ease it.

I’ll happily be her enemy.

Her own personal monster.

As long as I can also be the one to keep her safe. Perhaps even hold her the way that Raine does. Touch her. Comfort her. Fucking matter to her.

“This way.” Xander leads us outside.

The late afternoon sunshine has broken through the thick cloud coverage. We plough on in a loose formation, Raine walking independently behind Xander with his stick swinging.

My leg muscles protest as the miles trickle by. I fall into a rhythm, my attention focused on the skies above and the path ahead. I almost startle when I feel ice-cold fingers pressing into my face.

“You don’t suit the white knight stereotype, Nox.”

A pulse of adrenaline shoots through me when I find Ripley’s semi-open eyes. “You’re awake.”

“Is that what this feeling is?” she groans in pain. “Feels a lot like hell to me.”

Her hand lowers, fastening on my shirt collar instead. She fists the bloodstained fabric, tiny whimpers slipping past her lips with each step.

“Sorry for ruining your t-shirt.”

“You owe me a new one.”

“Add it to my bill,” she gasps.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. Please don’t die in my arms before settling up.” I pause to enjoy her look of surprise. “Plus I don’t want to be responsible for burying your body.”

“Ever the charmer.” Ripley rattles out a laugh. “Or should I say asshole?”

My mouth twitches in a smile. “More appropriate.”

“Where are we?” she wheezes.

“We’re going to find some help.”

“In a field?”

“You’re in no position to complain.”

Xander suddenly halts, his exhausted shoulders straightening out. He’s spotted something ahead. We’ve been passing fields of bleating livestock for at least an hour now. Perhaps we’ve finally escaped the farmland.

Barren fields have shifted to cobbled-stone pathways turn and wind-stripped fences, the grass massively overgrown. When I spot the first dated-looking structure ahead, the urge to laugh bubbles up in my chest.

“Seriously, Xan?” I call to him.

He glances over his shoulder. “You got a better idea?”

“What is it?” Raine taps his stick in a wide circle.

“Imagine the most British holiday you can think of.”

“Uh… pass.” He chuckles to himself. “My parents were a bit too concerned about shooting up to take me on holiday.”

We’re approaching a run-down resort, the front gates leading to rows of retro mobile homes. The place appears to be deserted in the late spring sunshine. We stop in front of the peeling welcome sign.

Golden Oaks Holiday Park.

Open July through November.

“Anyone against a little breaking and entering?” Xander asks after finding the gate locked.

There are no complaints.

“Good. Keep watch.”

He pokes around the entrance, locating a loose, round stone on the roadside. Xander returns to the gate, contemplating for a moment before slamming the stone into the rusted padlock.

After three hits, the busted lock hits the ground. He pulls off the chain, allowing the gates to creak open. We all shuffle forward, tentatively entering the desolate park.

“Does this place look as spooky as it feels?” Raine whistles.

Squeezing Ripley close, my head swivels from side to side. “Pretty much.”

“Kinda glad I can’t see it, in that case.”

Surveying the vacant homes, Xander guides us to the very back of the resort. The silence is fucking eery.

“This will do,” he decides, gesturing ahead.

Shaded, net curtains hide the interior of the mobile home he’s chosen. The garden is a wild jungle, indicating the months of closure during off-season.

“I’ll see if there’s a park office or something. They must have first-aid supplies. Can you get us in, Nox?”

“Leave it to me.”

Xander nods, vanishing to keep searching. I approach the mobile home then crouch down to lower Ripley onto the moss-speckled, plastic steps. Her pained grunting cuts deep into my chest.

“Easy,” I murmur.

She hisses, releasing my t-shirt. “Son of a bitch.”

“You’re welcome.”

With Ripley safely deposited, her leg stretched out in front of her, I check Raine is at a safe distance then look around for something to use. The door is made of two frosted-glass panes. If I can smash the top one, perhaps I can flip the inside lock.

“You reckon these things have alarms?”

Ripley grimaces. “Doubt it. This one looks ancient.”

Buried in weeds and grass tufts, I spot my target. A stone garden gnome covered in crusty fungus. I pick it up with my good hand. The ugly bastard will do the job nicely if I get the swing right.

Backing up to a safe distance, I swing the gnome hard, letting it sail into the glass pane. The resultant crack pierces the silence like a gunshot. A huge split marks the pane in complex spiderweb patterns.

“Shit, Nox,” Raine shouts from below. “Could you make more noise?”

“Feel free to come do it yourself, dick.”

Still using the lump of slick stone, I repeatedly smash the cracks I’ve created to chip away the glass. With the pane destroyed, I’m free to reach in to feel for a lock. My fingers catch on smooth metal.

“Gotcha,” I whisper. “Please work.”

Click .

Thankfully, the lock is cheap and crappy. It flicks open, allowing me to flip the handle. The door swings open, granting us access to the mobile home. My momentary relief dissipates as I move forward uneasily.

“Let me check to make sure it’s clear.”

Ripley attempts to shift, her teeth gritted. “Need backup?”

“You’re in no state to help.”

“I can walk,” she protests.

“No. You can’t. Just sit still.”

“But—”

“I mean it,” I cut her off. “Sit fucking still.”

Relieved when she deflates, not daring to protest more, I step inside. Stale air and dust register first. Then the stench of old, musty furniture. Anyone coming here for a holiday better have low expectations.

I check each room—a cramped living area, peeling kitchenette, single bathroom and two bedrooms with matching double beds. The old linoleum squeaks with each step I take, mirroring my rapid heartbeat.

“Nox? You good?”

Following Raine’s voice, I step back outside. “It’s clear. Probably best you can’t see the ’70s shag carpet and bright-orange kitchen. This thing is old as fuck.”

“Awesome,” Ripley quips.

“Raine? You good to follow?” I study him.

He waves my concern off. “I’ve got this. Go first.”

Helping Ripley stand, I throw her arm around my shoulders. Raine follows us in, using his stick to feel his way up the narrow steps. I set Ripley down on the kitchen counter, outstretching her leg on top.

“So much dust.” Raine wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I can literally smell the ’70s grandma vibes in here.”

“I’d like to think ’70s grandmas had more style than this,” I reply distractedly. “Who buys an orange refrigerator?”

“If it meant I could see it, I’d take a neon-green kitchen. Count yourself lucky.”

“Buy a green kitchen, and I’ll disown you.”

“Well, that’s you uninvited from the housewarming,” Raine snarks.

“Thank fuck for that.”

“Pack it in,” Ripley snaps at us. “It’s a roof over our heads.”

Creaking footsteps interrupt our conversation. We all startle before Xander’s dirt-flecked face quickly appears in the doorway.

“Room for one more?” He sighs.

“Welcome to the five-star hotel,” Raine jokes.

Slapping a turquoise box down on the table, rattling the contents, Xander deposits his backpack next. He’s practically sagging with fatigue, still covered in dirt and grass stains from our escape.

“First aid kit.” He rubs his face tiredly. “There was a small shop in the office too. No CCTV cameras. They’re not concerned about security out here.”

“Anything good?” Raine folds up his stick.

“Some long-life cereals, a bag of peanuts, a few chocolate bars and a cheap bottle of whiskey.”

“That’s a gourmet dinner.” Ripley winces when she tries to laugh. “No pain relief?”

“Nothing.” Xander shakes his head.

“Then someone crack open that booze.”

“Hand it over,” I offer.

Xander passes me the backpack. “I’ll sort out the medical supplies.”

With my bandaged hand, I fumble with the zip until I get it unfastened and locate the sealed bottle inside. Once I’ve cracked the seal, Ripley immediately snatches it from me.

“Woah.” I pull the bottle back to stop her chugging. “You haven’t eaten or slept, and you nearly bled out. Go easy on the hard liquor.”

“Fuck off,” she retorts, reaching for the whiskey.

“Nice try.” I pull the bottle behind my back. “We agreed you wouldn’t die on my watch, remember?”

“I don’t remember that.” She grimaces, a pained whimper slipping past her gritted teeth. “My leg feels like it’s on fucking fire.”

Reluctantly handing her the bottle, I watch her take another few mouthfuls before I intervene again, managing to wrestle it back. She pins me with the stink eye, a red flush already creeping into her cheeks.

“We need to do this now.” Xander clicks open the first aid kit to search inside. “Bring Ripley here.”

One arm sliding around her waist, I decide to take advantage and lift her off the counter by her ass. “My bad.”

“Don’t use your mangled hand as an excuse to grope me,” she hisses out. “You’re still on my shit list.”

“Then I’m good to grope you, right? If I’m already on the shit list.”

“Good luck getting off it with that attitude.”

I carry her over to the kitchen table, gently laying her down across the tacky surface with her bleeding thigh on Xander’s side. He takes one look at the mess and begins rifling through the box.

“Jeans off,” he orders.

“Raine,” I call out. “Come help me.”

“You’re both going to strip me?” Ripley asks incredulously.

I’m not sure if it’s the booze or an actual blush staining her cheeks now. Raine laughs under his breath. I swear, the motherfucker knows exactly what’s running through my mind.

“Any scissors?” I ask with forced neutrality.

Xander scours the kitchen, banging drawers and cabinets. “Nothing.”

“Great.” I study her splayed-out form. “Alright, this isn’t gonna feel great.”

With my good hand, I pick at the knotted t-shirt to untie the tourniquet before tugging her jeans down as gently as I can. Raine slowly pulls the denim over her ankles.

“That hurts,” she spits through gritted teeth. “Go slow.”

I try my best to carefully ease the denim down when we reach her thighs. The jeans are stuck to her skin and take some manoeuvring, each inch causing her to curse bloody murder.

“God-fucking-dammit!” Ripley lashes out. “I am going to put a bullet in Elon’s fucking face. Fuck!”

“I think cheap whiskey breaks her cuss filter,” Raine mutters.

“Did she ever have one?”

“Fair point.”

“I can hear you both!” she bellows. “Fucking assholes.”

Raine smirks to himself. “Case in point.”

With the jeans removed, an inflamed, ragged mess is revealed. Thankfully, the thigh wound itself is small, maybe five or six centimetres wide. She’s lucky they only had handguns.

“Lift her leg.” Xander snaps on a pair of blue medical gloves. “I need to check the exit wound.”

Slowly raising her leg, I avoid looking at the agony that’s carved into her clammy features. Xander moves fast, ducking low to inspect the back of her thigh before straightening up.

“Clean shot, minimal damage. We need to flush the wound then pack it.”

“Stitches?” I frown at him.

“Not yet. Got to rule out an infection first. Re-evaluate in a few days.”

“A few days?” Ripley croaks.

“You’re going to rest while we scout the area.” Xander keeps his instructions clipped, leaving no room for argument. “We’re secure here for the time being.”

I lower Ripley’s leg back down. “What about a hospital?”

“Right now, we don’t even know where we are. We’ll get her stabilised then make a plan.”

Lining up sealed packs of bandages and swabs, Xander quickly scans the label on a bottle of clear liquid. Behind me, Raine is shifting on his feet in clear agitation.

“Ankles,” I order him. “You can hold her legs straight.”

“You sure this is a good idea?”

“Have you got a better one?” Xander asks distractedly.

“Just feels a bit back-street clinic, you know?” Raine gnaws on his cheek.

“We’re not giving a false name and paying in cash.” I move up the table to stand at Ripley’s head. “Make yourself useful.”

Both moved into position, Xander unwraps several packs of cotton gauze. He uncaps the liquid, leaning over Ripley’s injured body while wearing a displeased expression.

“This may sting,” he advises with a quick glance. “We don’t need company.”

“Meaning?” Ripley grates out.

“Try not to yell too loud.”

Without ceremony, he douses her leg in antiseptic. I watch the clear liquid run red, filling the bullet wound before spilling over in a crimson flow. Ripley’s back arches as a shrill scream erupts from her mouth.

“Fuuuuuck!”

“Nox,” Xander barks. “Cover her mouth!”

Cursing rapidly, I slam a hand over Ripley’s O-shaped lips. Her tortured howls now muffled, she bucks and writhes on the table like we doused her in petrol then lit a flame.

“Stop it, Xan!” Raine frets in a high-pitched screech. “You’re hurting her!”

“Less than a blood infection will,” he hits back. “Let me do my job.”

Using cotton gauze, Xander begins to dab and clean, his jaw locked tight. I can feel the tears pouring from Ripley’s eyes soaking my hand. The huge, green-brown pits stare up at me like I’m responsible for carving her heart out.

It’s a sight I once craved. Dreamed about. Fantasised over. I wanted her tears, freshly spilled and bottled like nectar. Her grief and heartache helped ease my desire for revenge after she had us thrown in the Z wing.

Considering all the regret I feel now, that craving has packed up and left the fucking planet. My sick need for revenge drove me to the brink of insanity.

I’d do all manner of insane things to protect my family—she can attest to that—but somewhere down the line… my brain moved her into that same category. Fuck! When did that happen?

“Stop!” she shrieks behind my hand.

Xander tuts under his breath. “Not yet. We have to clean the wound.”

“I’m sorry.” The words tumble freely from my mouth. “I’m so sorry. Just hold on.”

When Xander douses the gunshot wound again, her wails intensify, chest pumping and body trembling beneath a sheen of glistening sweat. I lift my hand so she can gulp down shuddering breaths.

“P-Please.” She swipes at her wet cheeks. “Take m-my mind off it.”

“How?” I ask desperately.

“Anything… Tell m-me something… A story.”

Now finished flushing the wound, Xander resumes swabbing it to remove any debris. If that vein in his forehead throbs any harder, I’m worried it’s going to explode. He fucking hates this too.

“I… I don’t know any stories.”

“Your sister,” she whines through her pouring tears. “Tell me about her.”

My gaze snaps to hers. “Uh, now?”

Slamming her mouth shut, Ripley shrieks again through tightly sealed lips. Raine looks on the verge of passing out too, his face white as a sheet as he continues to hold her legs straight.

“Shit, okay,” I rush out. “She… She practiced ballet. Some free program for ex-service families. Our grandfather signed her up.”

Ripley’s eyes screw shut. Her skin has lost its alcohol flush and turned almost translucent. Determined to stop her from shutting down, I search for something happy amongst heart-wrenching memories.

“Every single day after school, I’d take the A7 bus to pick her up from class. It was a rattling hunk of junk. If I had enough money, we’d stop for an ice cream cone on the way home.”

She mumbles weakly, her eyes flickering. “Ice cream?”

“Yeah, that boring vanilla kind. Bright-yellow and full of additive shit. But she enjoyed that damn cone so much. I loved seeing her smile, even if I had to scavenge pennies just to make it happen.”

Tossing aside bloodied handfuls of gauze, Xander locates fresh bandages next. He nods to me in encouragement.

I smooth sweaty hair back from her forehead. “One time, the shop closed early. Daisy stared up at that closed sign, and the look on her face fucking killed me. I hadn’t realised how much our little ritual meant to her.”

Ripley’s eyes flutter open and lock on mine. Her tears are pearlescent rivers staining her skin. Skimming her cheek with my thumb, I wipe them away.

She lets out a thready breath. “What d-did you do about it?”

“You know me too well.”

“Yeah.” Her laugh is weak.

“I snuck around back and broke into the storeroom. Stole two tubs of that shitty ice cream then took it home. Daisy had a bowl every night until it ran out.”

Directing Raine to lift her injured leg, Xander packs the wound with sterilised cotton then begins to tightly bandage it. Ripley’s vibrating so violently, I wonder if she’ll pass out again. I seize her shaking hand.

“Hey,” I bark at her. “Eyes on me.”

Her muddled gaze flicks back to my face. “I h-hate vanilla.”

“You want to know a secret?”

She nods loosely.

“Me too. I only ate it to make Daisy happy. I don’t have a massive sweet tooth. Though if pushed, I’d go for chocolate every time.”

Xander applies medical tape to hold the bulging bandage in place. Panting roughly, Ripley interlocks her fingers with mine. I run a finger over her knuckles, studying each laboured breath.

“I went back to the ice cream shop after she died,” I blurt before I can stop myself. “I guess I wanted to feel close to her again. All her stuff at home was gone by then, and it felt like she never existed.”

Lowering Ripley’s leg, Xander casts a critical eye over his handiwork before nodding. He starts to clean up the medical detritus. There’s blood and bandage wrappings spread everywhere around us.

I didn’t get the chance to hold Daisy’s hand like this. I couldn’t give her the love she needed. The protection of her big brother—the one person in the entire world who was supposed to keep her safe.

I failed her.

But I’ll never fail my family again.

“It was gone.” The truth is a raw whisper that I can hardly vocalise. “Boarded up and gutted. Some little shits even graffitied the exterior. Daisy died, and everything she loved died with her.”

“Not you,” she replies weakly.

“The Lennox she knew did. He was weak. Blind to the truth. Pathetic. He didn’t protect her.”

I ignore the other two paying close attention to our whispers. I’m focused solely on Ripley’s face, wrinkles smoothing out and muscles relaxing. Her septum piercing is crooked again.

I gently straighten the silver ring. “Rest, baby.”

She mumbles an unintelligible protest.

“It’s okay, Rip.” My vocal cords spasm, causing my voice to break. “I’m right here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

Because that’s what family does, no matter how much they beat, bruise and hate each other. There’s no stronger bond on Earth than that. Not all of us are lucky enough to have biological family left.

But the connections we create can be stronger than shared DNA.

We’re living proof of that.

Ripley demonstrated her worth to me the day she avenged her best friend’s death. She was defending her family. The family we took from her. Beneath all that goddamn beautiful rage, we’re just alike.

Together, we could be unstoppable.

Our rage will burn the whole fucking world.