The Fall of V (The Henchmen MC 13)

Have a say in it.

"Don't," she yelped when I slowly started backing toward the door, deciding to let her have her moment in peace.

"Don't what?" I asked, watching her back.

"Don't leave," she begged, turning over her shoulder to look at me.

Raw.

She was so raw.

A bleeding, open wound.

My heart - hardened by so many years of witnessing the evils of my fellow humans - softened, crushed at seeing it.

"Okay," I agreed, nodding, closing the door behind me, leaning into it.

In case Cash came home.

Looking for me.

Full of questions.

Barreling in because there had never been a reason to knock over showers before.

"Why don't you get in at the end, then throw your clothes out?" I suggested when she just stood there, torn for her need of my presence, and that for modesty.

"Okay."

With that, she did.

Her clothes were flung out.

After that, I heard the clatter of bottles as she sorted out body wash, shampoo, and soap. Likely reapplying ten times, but not feeling any cleaner.

Then there was nothing.

Just the sniffles as she cried silently.

For ten minutes.

Twenty.

Until the whole bathroom steamed up, making my shirt stick to me with sweat.

Then, finally, likely out of hot water, her hand stuck out, reaching for a towel, then another.

"Do you want me to leave, so you can get dressed? I can go order food."

More like have Cash do it.

Because I could hear him coming in the front door.

"Okay."

"What kind of food? It's late, but the Chinese place is open. And the diner. So they have anything."

"Fries," she said immediately, making me smile slightly. Sometimes teenagers - even horribly abused ones - were just, well, teenagers. "And mozzarella sticks. Grilled cheese."

"Anything else?" I asked, sensing a hesitation like she was worried she was asking for too much.

"A salad," she surprised me by saying. I must have shown my confusion, because she shrugged a shoulder. "I haven't had a vegetable in four months," she supplied, reminding me of V's many atrocities. She didn't just like to have women raped. She liked to starve them too.

"You got it. I will be right downstairs. Or if you want, there is a bedroom right across the hall."

With that, I left her, running down the stairs, my hand slamming into Cash's chest as he tried to turn to go up them as well.

"Sh," I demanded, pushing him through the house out to the front door.

"You brought the girl here," he guessed when we were outside.

"Yeah. She wanted a shower."

His face, already pale, seemed to pale further in the realization of why that would be. "She's young."

"Fifteen or sixteen," I agreed.

"Probably got parents worried sick about her," he said, giving me a much-needed reminder. Not all lost girls were strays I could take in. I had to have that talk with her when I went back inside.

"Yeah. We haven't gotten that far yet. She wanted a shower. And I need you to go get her food. Fries. Mozzarella sticks. Grilled cheese. And a salad. Maybe a side of veggies too."

"And you want me to leave the bags on the step," he guessed.

"I'm sorry," I said immediately, knowing I should have asked him first, knowing this wasn't just my home, my decisions to make.

"Don't apologize, sweetheart. You're doing the right thing. I just wanted to check on you before I headed out."

I didn't even know what happened.

Hadn't thought to check my phone.

I had only one focus.

But my team - and Reign's team - were all trained and capable of handling what might have gone down.

"Out where?"

"Ferryn ran away," he told me, the words a punch to the gut.

"What?" I asked, knowing she had run, but figuring it was just shock, that someone she knew would catch her, calm her down, bring her home.

"Dunno. She took off into the forest. No one could find her."

"Get Gunner. Baird's guy. Get him to try to track her."

He nodded at that. "He's on his way."

"I'm so sorry, Cash," I said, moving forward, wrapping my arms around him.

This was supposed to be it.

We were going to get our girl back.

Get her home safe.

The worry that had been churning inside of us for days would be gone.

But there would be no relief.

Not until we found her.

Not until we knew she was okay.

"That fucking bitch," he growled into my ear, making me have to take a deep breath at the pain behind his words.

"She's dead," I reminded him, giving him a squeeze.

"Yeah, but what damage had she done first?"

"Don't jump to conclusions," I said, even though I couldn't seem to fathom why else she would run like that. "We don't know that happened."

"It better not the fuck have."

There was determination in his voice. Even though there was nothing to be done even if that had happened.

V was dead.

Her men were dead.

There was no one else to take vengeance on.

"She killed her," he added.