Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC 3)

Bill stepped forward, jerking the man behind him roughly.

“Not the time, son,” he told him firmly, meeting his eyes.

Bull stared at him, struggling not to pummel the old man from getting in the way of justice. Of revenge.

“Go to your woman,” he continued, not backing down at the no doubt murderous look on Bull’s face.

That jolted Bull out of his haze. The monster took a backseat and Bull realized what was most important in that moment.

“Basement,” he barked.

Bill nodded at him, a look of relief flooding the old man’s face. He jerked his head to the hallway behind him. “In the kitchen, first door to your left.” His voice held a note of something; couldn’t be respect, but as sure as shit sounded like it.

A meaningful look was communicated between the two before Bull moved past them both in search of his woman. Bull didn’t look at the maggot, because if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to control himself.

When he found the basement, he struggled not to take the stairs two at a time. He got to the bottom, not fully prepared for what he would see. His entire frame locked in place.

Mia on the ground, Crawford crouching beside her, gently moving her arm in his hands. Bull gritted his teeth at the fucker’s hands on her. But he didn’t focus on that, not for long. He focused on her face. Her beautiful peaches and cream face. It was now covered in purplish bruising. Both of her eyes were darkened with evidence of the brutality she withstood, one almost swollen shut. There were rings around her neck. Hand marks. Someone had tried to strangle her. Tried to squeeze the life out of her. Unbidden, the memories assaulted him. A surprise attack.

Four Years Ago

His eyes watched the monitor that measured the beats of her heart. That showed him that she was still alive. Barely. Barely holding on, he knew that. His eyes moved to the bandage that covered half her face. He knew what was underneath it, what that tattoo meant. Meant he’d failed. Failed his most basic job. Protecting his girl. Shielding her from the horrors that came with being connected with him. Shielding her from the darkness. The evidence of his failure was everywhere. The burn marks decorating her delicate arms. The cuts and bruises covering almost her entire body. Couldn’t even let himself think of what else they’d done to her. Not in this moment. But that was his failure too.

“Brother.” He heard his best friend’s voice, felt his hand on his shoulder. He didn’t look up. Didn’t move his eyes from that machine.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me right now, Cade,” he ordered quietly, his voice dead.

The hand left, but the presence didn’t. There was silence for a moment, the beeping the only sound in the room.

“This isn’t your fault,” Cade began.

“The fuck it isn’t,” Bull snapped. “This shit,” he nodded to the bed. To his broken angel. “Is all on me.”

“Bull,” Cade’s voice was stronger, ready to fight him on this.

Bull whipped his head around to meet his friend’s eyes. “They fucking raped her,” he yelled, the ugly word seeming to echo in his brain, slice him up inside. “Repeatedly,” he continued quieter and he watched his friend flinch. “She’s scared of mice,” he told him. “Laurie’s fuckin’ terrified of the tiny things.” His eyes moved back to the machine. “She’s afraid of mice. How do you think she felt when they were doing, that,” he spat the word, “to her?” He paused, choking on his breath. “Yeah, that’s on me,” he repeated. “Girl who lived her life in sunshine, losing it in the blackest, ugliest depths of hell,” he choked out. And as if she heard him, as if she couldn’t keep it up any longer, the beeping stopped.

A single tear trickled down Bull’s cheek.

“Zane?” A small voice shocked him out of his own head. His own horrors.

He realized he had been locked in the spot. His eyes glued on Mia, his mind straying to someone else entirely.

That voice, that very alive, very strong voice got him moving. He managed to make his feet move and in a moment he was in front of her, kneeling. He managed not to kick Crawford in the face, who merely released Mia and moved slightly away with a hard glare.

Bull cupped Mia’s face with his hands gently, aware of the pain she must be in. But he had to touch her. To feel her warm skin under his. She met his eyes. He flinched, but not out of pain. Out of relief.

Her good hand stroked his jaw. “You’re here,” she said.

“I’m here,” he repeated, his voice sounding rough, even to his own ears.

“Lexie?” she asked, her voice tight with worry.

He stroked her face. “She’s good, baby,” he muttered. “Killian too,” he added when he saw her mouth open again.

Her entire body sagged. She searched his face. “I’m okay now,” she promised him.

His eyes ran over every inch of her body. The clothes weren’t hers but they weren’t ripped. They weren’t betraying signs of an unspeakable assault. That didn’t mean it didn’t happen. Bull swallowed the fire tickling at the base of his throat. His eyes worked their way back up to his face. It was covered in bruises. Bruises that made his own fists clench, and made him want to neuter the coward who thought he could lay hands on a woman. His woman. The eyes that met his once more made him calm. Because even though her face was battered, those bruises bringing the worst kind of déjà vu, the eyes were what held him together. They weren’t broken, weren’t empty. They were full, whole, strong.

“Marry me,” he whispered.

Her entire frame jerked. “What?” she whispered back.

“Marry me,” he clipped.

She regarded him. “You’re asking me to marry you, while I’m assuming I’m a delightful shade of purple?” she asked, half teasing.

Bull didn’t react. Outwardly, at least. Only Mia. Only his Mia would find a way to make a joke at this moment.