Crux Untamed (Hades Hangmen 6)

She pulled on my hand, bringing me to a halt. “I’m a biker bitch, Breaux. I was riding on the back of bikes before I learned to walk.” I winked, laughing at the sass that had been missing far too long, and dragged her out of the apartment. I pulled out of the apartment block and cut up road. Sia held on tight.

We had a fucking date with Louisiana.

*****

I cut like lightning through the old streets. The diner I ate at every day. The tattoo shop where I got my first ink . . . white power. I gritted my teeth just fucking remembering that. Remembering seeing Hush and his daddy being forced from the diner like it was the sixties and black and white couldn’t mix. I supposed this town was the place that time forgot. Stuck in the past. Small minds and even smaller tolerances for anything outside of the norm.

Sia squeezed my waist tighter, as if she knew I was fucking warring with myself. I was a bat out of hell as I tore up the asphalt and joined the back roads that led to where I knew my brother would be. The ground was wet. We’d just missed a storm that had blown in. My body tensed on seeing a familiar set of trees in the near distance.

“Is this it?” Sia asked, her mouth near my ear.

I nodded. For once I couldn’t fucking speak. All I saw were the ghosts of that night. Saw the orange glow from the flames that were ripping my best friend’s world apart as he’d sat beside me in the truck. It had been me who’d taken him to the fucking rodeo that day. If I hadn’t . . . if he’d have stayed . . .

Then I would have lost him.

I shook my head. Because as much as I loved his parents, saw what losing them had done to him . . . I wouldn’t have handled losing him. He thought he was dependent on me. I was missing a fucking limb if he wasn’t with me.

Dread blanketed me as I turned in to the road I used to turn in to every day. It felt cold all of a sudden. Driving down the road made my skin break out in bumps and ice trickle down my spine. Sensing it again, Sia kissed the back of my neck . . . right over the numbers that caused Hush so much pain.

I held my fucking breath as we entered the Durands’ property. The first thing I saw was the pile of wood that used to be their home. Sia’s hands tightened on my cut. My hands tightened on my handlebars. There was a truck parked off to the side.

Then I noticed a familiar pair of boots at the side of the house. I launched from my bike; Sia followed quickly behind. My feet ground to a halt when I rounded the corner.

A fucking wash of tears pricked at my eyes when I saw the scene before me. Hush, on the floor, beaten and fucking covered in mud, shivering . . . between two makeshift crosses.

Love doesn’t see color . . .

I turned my head away for a second and ran my hand through my hair. I fought the fucking iron fist that had just slammed into my chest and put a death grip on my heart.

“Hush,” Sia cried, her voice a damn pained whisper. “God, baby, what have you done?” She bent down and ran her hands over his beaten face. Her tears splashed onto his cheeks. Then she froze. I followed what had captured her attention. In his hand, Hush held a picture. The only picture we’d been able to salvage from the rubble before we’d hitched a ride on a passing truck and got the fuck out of town.

I heard Sia’s breath hitch. She took the picture from Hush’s hand and brought it to her chest. Her eyes closed as she cried. Cried for a couple she’d never known. Her shaking hands placed the picture safely in her pocket.

She almost fucking destroyed me. Because the Durands would have loved her. They’d have fucking taken her in just like they did me. She’d have gained them as her family too.

And she’d have loved them.

“Hush,” she whispered and pressed a kiss to his lips. Hush’s leg moved. I walked closer, waiting for him to move again. My blood felt like ice in my veins. Please fucking wake up. Please. “Hush?” Sia tried again. A low moan left Hush’s mouth. He was caked in mud. His lips were blue. I wasn’t sure if it was from the beating he’d taken, the cold, or both. Anger shot through me where I stood, as I thought over who could have hurt him. I wondered if he’d searched out Jase and the rest of the dipshits. Then—

“Sia?” a familiar voice croaked.

It was like coming fucking home.

Sia nodded, unable to speak through the tears. She guided his head to her lap. My eyes moved from my brother to the crosses that were hammered into the desecrated land. A fucking pained noise left my throat when I saw what he’d carved. Mamma. Papa.

He’d never been to see his mamma’s grave. And we had no idea what had been done with his papa. Thrown in with other people who had no one to claim them.

“What happened to you, baby?” Sia whispered. Hush’s eyes were open. Bloodshot, dull, and real fucking tired.

He tried to get up, but he had to hold onto his ribs. Sia looked back at me, her stunning face stricken with grief for my broken brother. My feet slowly moved me forward. I dropped down into the sludge of mud he lay in. His blue eyes found me, then he broke down. Sia held him tighter. The brother didn’t even complain if she was hurting him. Instead he hung onto her like she was the only thing keeping him alive. Sia cried as she held him. Held him in the place that was his fucking hell on earth.

Then a hand came out for me. Closing my eyes, I reached out and clutched Hush’s hand and fucking just held on.

Hush finally pulled away from Sia. He dropped my hand. I moved behind him and helped him sit up. There wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t covered in mud. Hush’s breathing was shallow and pained. His disoriented eyes suddenly started searching all around him.

His photograph.

“Sia’s got it,” I said and watched him still. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“We need to get you clean and dry,” Sia said.

Hush met

her eyes, but his were blank. Dead . . . it fucking terrified me.

I crouched down next to Sia. “Val.” His blue eyes fell to me. This close, I could see the state of his face. His entire body was battered and bruised. “We need to move you.”

Fucking tears started coming from Hush’s eyes. He looked back at the crosses. “There’s nowhere for me to go.”

Sia stilled, clutching his arms. She looked at me, eyes wide in obvious alarm. I shuffled closer. Hush was just staring at the crosses. “Val—”

“I saw pictures.” He choked on a sob. “They were everywhere. Surrounding them. And Mamma . . .” He sucked in a breath, the air wheezing in his chest. “She was in the window.” He pointed to where the window used to be. “She saw them . . .” he whispered. “She was watching them with their flaming torches and signs that told her she shouldn’t be with my papa . . . that she should never have had me.”

“Hush,” Sia said brokenly.

He blinked. Then looked at me. “Jase . . . Pierre . . . Stan . . . Davide . . . it was their initiation to the Klan.” My blood ran cold when what he was saying finally sank in. I shook my head, but Hush wasn’t finished. He looked into my eyes. “They were coming for me and my daddy.” He tried to move, like he had to flee from the words he was trying to force from his mouth. Sia backed away and let him move. He scrambled to the crosses, clutching the one he’d made for his mamma. His hands ran down her name and the inscription he’d carved. “But I had that fucking seizure,” he continued. “So she stayed . . . and took my place.” He screamed. Fucking bellowed into the air. Over and over again until his throat grew hoarse. “It should have been me,” he whispered and collapsed at the base of the cross.

Sia crawled forward and hugged him from behind. He looked up. “I have no one. No family.” My chest fucking cracked when he spoke those words. Because he had us.

He had us.

The sound of a bike’s roar made me look to the road. I pulled my gun from my belt. “Stay with him,” I told Sia. A Harley thundered toward the house. I raised my gun, wondering who the fuck it could be.