Maniacs (Depraved Sinners 4)

We’re going to be okay.

Mick scurries away, determined to get a jump on wiping the surveillance footage and logs from the scanners before Giovanni has a chance to find it, but he doesn’t leave without assuring us that he’ll be back with everything that we need. Roman sends Dill and Doe with him, giving him instructions on where to stash them for the time being, and my heart breaks just a little more watching the massive wolves follow him out.

The door closes behind him and just as Roman collapses down onto one of the small beds and goes to close his eyes, a sharp gasp tears from deep in my chest. “What is it?” Levi spits, his eyes wide as he looks to me in concern.

My gaze travels over his body, my brows furrowing in confusion.

“The gunshots,” I say, feeling like an idiot for not having even thought about this sooner. “I heard them when I was leaving. Three of them. Giovanni shot you all, but …” My gaze flicks to Roman, scanning him from head to toe, just as I did with Levi. “Where are the bullet wounds?”

Roman holds up his hand and I see a chunk of flesh torn out of the side of his hand, big enough to cause a shitload of pain, but not enough for a man like Roman to concern himself with. “Warning shots,” he mutters, closing his eyes and allowing his hand to fall back onto his chest. “Three shots into the grass, one just a little too close.”

“Fuck,” I breathe, falling against the wall of the bunker and slowly sliding down to my ass. “I thought they were kill shots. Those first few days after,” I start, tears forming in my eyes, remembering the grief at thinking I’d lost them. “I thought … I thought you were gone.”

“It’ll take a shitload more than a fucking bullet to take us out,” Levi murmurs before dropping down onto a bed and falling back, his head crushing against the pillow. His eyes immediately close, and within moments, he falls into a deep sleep, and hell, maybe Roman already is too.

Wanting them to get as much rest as possible, I keep my torturous memories and comments to myself, sitting in silence and listening as the doctor tirelessly works on Marcus. It takes long, tormenting hours before she declares that he’s going to be okay, and only then does she move onto Roman and Levi, cleaning out their wounds and ensuring they’re alright. After the boys have been treated, she digs through the box that Mick had left and hands out medication like it’s candy.

She gives strict instructions on how to care for Marcus, and I commit each one to memory. She quickly looks over my bruised jaw and fixes a proper bandage to the slice on my arm. She doesn’t ask how any of this happened, nor does she question our names. Just simply does the job I can only assume she’s being paid a shitload to do.

Once there’s nothing else for her to help us with, she spares me one last curious glance, probably wondering how a girl like me could fit in with these three guys. She doesn’t ask and I don’t bother offering her anything before her heavy stare falls away and she slips out the door, hopefully to never see us again.

17

Three days.

Three fucking days is all it takes for Marcus to get back on his feet and declare that he’s some kind of indestructible god. Fuck, the asshole is close to assuming that he’s immortal, but in reality, he still has a long way to go. All three of them do. They’re each fighting different levels of infection, Marcus obviously has the worst.

Mick came and went, offering us everything we needed to get through the few days underground before explaining where we could find the car, cell phones, and enough cash to keep us going. He confirmed that everything had been wiped from their system and that on day two, Giovanni had raided the place like a fucking psychopath, just as we thought he would, and Mick had shown him a live feed from the bunkers to prove we weren’t down here, which he then explained was a mirror image of the empty bunker across from us.

The boys pretty much rested the entire time, and I did what I could to keep them comfortable as they healed, while also avoiding every lingering stare that came from Roman. He knows too much, and I feel him waiting, anticipating the moment that my grief will all come crashing down around me. He hasn’t said a damn word, but soon enough, he’s going to push me to talk, and the moment I open the floodgates, I’m scared I won’t be able to stop. Not to mention, we’re in a cramped space, the second I speak about it, Marcus and Levi will know and then nothing will be able to reel them in. Hell, I haven’t even shared the big news—I’m their new step-mommy.

Fuck.

This is wrong on so many levels.

Hell, at this point, I don’t really know if I’m scared to tell them because of their reactions or if I’m just too afraid to face it, to admit what happened in there, to own it and start the process of learning how to move past it. I’d do anything to not have to go over those details, to say the words out loud and see the looks on their faces.

What are they going to think of me? Will they see me as dirty? Used goods? Will they pull away from me, not being able to even touch me without imagining what their father did to me?

Shit.

For now, all I want to focus on is them getting better. Once we get out of this bunker and find somewhere to stay, somewhere to lay low and figure out our next move, then we can address the ugly details.

Marcus passes in front of me for the hundredth time over the past few minutes, and I roll my eyes, leaning back against the wall of the cramped bunker. It was one thing when the three of them were bound, but after three long days, they’re getting just a little agitated. I don’t blame them though, after being locked up in those cells, they’re probably desperate for freedom.

“Stop fucking pacing,” Levi grunts, playing with a gun, pulling the bullets out before putting them straight back in, the same routine he’s been following for the past hour. But hey, I’m not one to judge, whatever passes the time. “You’re going to tear your stitches.”

“My stitches aren’t your fucking problem,” Marcus fires back, his ability to keep calm long gone.

Levi scoffs, shooting a nasty glare at his brother. “Right, because I’m not going to be the one that has to restitch them like I did yesterday and the day before that. Sit your bitch ass down.”

A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips, and I glance up from under my lashes, watching the show, a sick excitement drumming in my veins. Levi might pass his time by loading and reloading a gun, but I get my kicks from watching these assholes lose their shit at one another like three caged animals. Then they have to spend the next hour acting as though they’re not bothered by their close proximity. What can I say? It’s been a long three days.

Marcus glares at his brother, and I get a thrill out of how fired up he is. It’s a dangerous game. He isn’t exactly known for being able to control his reckless emotions, but seeing that fire burning through him, getting stronger each day, makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine. He’s not my usual, ready to fuck at the drop of a hat, Marcus, but he’s sure as fuck on his way.

“Can’t we just get the fuck out of here?” he questions, glancing back at the clock that sits high on the wall above the door. It reads 8 pm, and I let out a sigh, predicting the next conversation that’s about to go down.

“No,” Roman murmurs, laying back on his bed, his eyes boring a hole into the ceiling with his laser-sharp stare. “We leave at nine.”