Walk Through Fire (Page 65)

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he roared.

My body went still but my soul shattered.

“High, brother.”

I heard this like it was from far away.

Tack.

“You are not in this,” High growled.

“Get your woman inside,” Tack said quietly. “It’s cold and starting to snow.”

I stood still.

So did High.

For a nanosecond.

Then he moved me from the car.

For the next however long I did not know I had very little recollection of anything that happened except in that first moment, me arching my back so hard my feet left the ground as High kept hold of me and turned us toward the Compound while I screeched, “No!”

Faintly, I remember struggling. Clawing. Screaming. Kicking. Pushing. Getting loose when he got me back in the Compound and seeing all the brothers of Chaos fanned out in the common room, sentries for Logan, soldiers of their brother, fencing me in.

I made a frantic choice, running toward the blond guy to get through him. I failed. He got hold of me and dragged me right back to Logan.

Logan again took control and I fought it but eventually found myself behind the closed door in his room and it went on.

Me fighting him. Fighting him like I was fighting for my life.

And Logan defending himself against my attacks, doing it gently, doing it in a way he wouldn’t hurt me and helped me not hurt himself, and doing it continuing to contain me as he murmured over and over again, soothingly, “Calm,” and, “Relax, baby,” and, “Stop it, beautiful.”

At my end, reaching it somehow on the bed with Logan, I grunted as I gave one final, colossal buck to pull out of the ironclad hold of his arms, attempting to jerk my legs away from the heavy weight of his clamped to mine.

Then I went slack.

When I did, he slid his hand in my hair.

“That’s it, Millie,” he whispered to the top of my head. “Settle. It’s over, darlin’. It’s done.”

“Are Cleo and Zadie beautiful?” I asked his throat in an uncontrolled utterance because even if I already knew, I still had to know, and felt his fingers bunch my hair reflexively.

“They are,” he rumbled. “So, so beautiful, baby.”

“I gave you them,” I told him, fading, finally fucking fading.

“You did, Millie,” he agreed softly.

“I gave you them. I gave you that Daddy they call you that warms you to your bones.”

He pulled me deeper into his arms, shifting into me, taking me to my back, smothering me with his weight and heat, drowning me with his scent, but he said nothing.

Still fading, I murmured, “I gave you them. I gave them you.”

“Baby,” he whispered, the word tortured.

“I gave you up, walking through fire to do it but I did it,” I told him. “I did it in the end. I gave you everything,” I finished, finally, finally fading.

Fading away.

Into nothing.

High

High waited, holding his girl, making sure she was in a place where there was no pain and taking his time doing it.

When he was certain she was resting, gently he pulled away.

Then carefully, he took off her boots, more carefully tugging off her jacket, and he pulled the covers out from under her, dragged them over her, and tucked her in tight all around.

After he did that, he didn’t look at her.

He couldn’t.

He’d climb back in bed with her, which meant he wouldn’t do what he had to do.

So instead, he walked out of the room.

They were all there. Word had gotten out. It did that in times like these. So all the brothers were there. Even Lanie; Elvira; Shy’s wife, Tabby; and Joker’s woman, Carissa, were there.

He looked right to Tack, not missing a step on his stalk to the door.

“She does not leave,” he stated.

“High, you shouldn’t leave either. Not if your shit’s not tight. Snow’s gettin’ bad,” Tack replied.

He stopped, hand on the handle, and looked back to his brother.

“Then do me a solid and get food in ’cause if I get back and it’s too bad to get her to my RV, we’re workin’ the rest of our shit out here and considerin’ what just went down, that’s gonna take some time.”

On that, he walked out into the snow.

He’d taken his truck that morning, knowing the weather was moving in.

So he swung in the cab, started her up, and rolled out of Ride.

The snow was heavy, sticking, but the roads weren’t bad as he made his way to where he needed to go.

He parked out front, prowled up the walk, and pressed his finger to the bell, not pounding on the door like he wanted to and taking his finger off the button only because there could be kids inside.

The door opened, not much, a crack, but she moved into the space and looked up at him.

“Holy crap, Lo—” Dottie started to breathe, eyes wide.

“You didn’t tell me,” he growled, watched her face pale and knew his guess was right.

Millie had shared with her sister.

And her sister did not share with him.

“Logan,” she whispered.

“I wouldn’t give a fuck and you know, woman.” He lifted a hand to stab a finger her way. “You know I wouldn’t give a fuck and you let her do it anyway.”

She opened the door only to wedge herself in it and asked, “Did something happen?”

“Millie’s in my bed at the Compound, passed out, fucked up, gone. She shared, Dot. She told me why she got shot of me. She did it and she unraveled right in front of my goddamned eyes, finally givin’ me that fuckin’ shit and you fuckin’ knew and you said shit.”