Yet, here he was, abandoning his sister in order to help another save her brothers.
It wasn’t easy, but he showed me more loyalty and strength than I’d ever seen. Gone was the cocky joker who summoned women with one smirk. Gone was the slight player who’d worked hard but somehow managed to indulge in life with a silver spoon.
As he disappeared with a black-dressed Jaz in his arms, he grew from boy to man, and I’d wanted to run after him and thank him for saving Jethro—for once again putting my happiness above his own and doing what I bade.
It’d taken all my control not to follow. To clutch the handles of Jasmine’s chair and wheel it in the opposite direction.
They’re coming for you, Jethro.
They’ll save you.
It killed me that I wouldn’t be there. That I wouldn’t be the one coaxing him to liveliness, rescuing him from pain. But, at the same time, that right belonged to Jaz. Jethro had sacrificed his life to save hers—it was only fair she did the same.
Then again, she’d dragged my brother into her plotting. There was no telling her plans—whatever they were—would be executed without a hitch. No saying they would be safe.
If Cut found out, Jaz would be punished, Jethro and Kes killed for real, and Vaughn repeatedly beaten. I had no doubt they would destroy him until he begged for death.
And all for what? For the unfortunate curse of being my blood.
Stop thinking about it.
I glared at the wheelchair, lurking in the shadows by the door. It looked so sad, so empty without its owner. The metal machine grieved for its occupant, no longer wanting to provide a purpose without her.
Dawn lurked on the horizon.
Pink swirls and purple splashes slowly pushed aside midnight black.
For the fiftieth time, I looked at the clock.
6:37 a.m.
I’d returned to my room at ten past twelve. Over six hours ago.
Where were they?
What had they been doing?
Are you still alive, Jethro?
Are you safe?
I hadn’t slept. I hadn’t relaxed. How could I when they were out there, sneaking beneath sleeping cameras and saving men who in Cut’s mind were dead?
The dresser was back across the door, firmly wedged and protective. But that didn’t stop my growing panic as each hour traded night for day and the chance of getting caught increased.
“What do you mean Jasmine’s missing? No, she isn’t. She’s here…in the bathroom. And no, you cannot see her.”
I groaned, pacing at the end of my bed. That would fail. If she were in the bathroom, she’d need her chair to move around.
“She’s taking a nap; I don’t want to disturb her.”
All Cut would have to do was bang on the door and ‘wake her up’ to realize there was no nap to disturb.
“God, this isn’t going to work.”
Please, hurry!
The last of moonlight turned to sunlight, glinting off the silver rims of Jasmine’s chair. I had the strangest feeling of not being alone. As if the inanimate object was somehow alive, as if it had a presence in the room—the ghost of Jaz, leaving her impression with me even while she ran escapades with my brother.
What are you doing?
Has it gone to plan?
How much longer will you be?
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I hated being left behind, left to worry and fret and create insane theories on what’d happened without me.
I would’ve given anything to be with them.
He’s not dead.
He’s alive!
Joy effervesced.
I held a hand against my chest, forcing the happy bubbles to disperse. It was too soon to celebrate. Too soon to believe he was safe. In some awful way, I didn’t want to jinx it by believing in the best when the worst might still happen.
Time continued onward, turning my fear into depression.
What if Jasmine underestimated her plan to save them? What if they’d waited too long? What if? What if? What if?
Looking at the clock, I bit my lip as the hour hand struck 7:00 a.m. No one in Hawksridge was an early riser, but Jasmine was playing with fire. She had to get back and soon. She had to return my brother.
I paced the thick carpet. Every creak of the ancient house warming in the early winter sunshine made me jump. Every crank and glug of old plumbing sent my heart racing.
She has to have made it.
She has to have saved him.
A tapping sounded. Faint and fleeting.
I slammed to a halt, eyes flying to the ceiling, the walls, the window, the door.
It came again.
The softest rap and the quietest voice. “Threads, open up.”
After pacing tens of kilometres and biting off my nails in concern, they were back.
I flew.
With super-human strength, I shoved aside the dresser and opened the door.
“Let us in. Quickly.” Vaughn’s voice was raspy and tired, but alive.
Thank God.
I stepped aside. The dark corridor hid my secretive visitors until they traded the gloom and darted inside. Vaughn prowled forward with Jasmine locked in his arms, moving through puddles of sunlight, as he headed straight for her chair.
Immediately, I closed the door again, deliberating whether to put the dresser back or not.
Jaz’s arm was slung over his shoulders, her body relaxed in his embrace. Something was different.
When he’d picked her up and disappeared seven hours ago, they’d been awkward and stiff. Now, they shared an experience, a mission I hadn’t been privileged to participate in.
Vaughn’s back bunched beneath a new t-shirt as he placed Jasmine gently into the wheeled contraption. I eyed him. He wasn’t wearing that last night. The previous wardrobe had been a bloodied dark blue shirt. This was a dark grey tee with a sports brand tagged on the front—not at all what my brother would wear.
My heart thudded with mysteries. What had they seen and done together? What rapport had they built? And why couldn’t I have been a part of it?
My jaw clenched as Jasmine smiled at V.
He tucked her useless legs onto the stirrups and took a step back. “You good?”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
I moved forward, feeling left out, lost, and entirely too close to tears.
She was on our side. She’d done what she could to save the men we both loved, but at the same time, I couldn’t forget how nasty she’d been. The ruse of making me hate her caused my feelings to split. I wanted to like her, but some part of me was still wary, still on edge.
She asked me to die for her brother.
But…wouldn’t I do the same if it were V?
Swallowing my hurt, I crossed my arms. “How did it go?”
Please tell me it was a success.
The rest of it: the sadness at not sharing their adventure and the grief at not being able to see Jethro would diminish the moment I knew he was in the hands of those who could heal him and Kes.
Jasmine adjusted herself in the chair as Vaughn took a step back.
Her eyes met mine. “We got them to the hospital.”
“Oh, thank God.” My heart tried to leap from my chest. “Did the doctors say anything?”
“Lots to tell you, Threads.” Vaughn came closer. His arms banded around me, squeezing tight.
Tears pricked my eyes.
I hadn’t realised how lonely I’d been, so afraid and on tenterhooks all night.
I accepted his embrace but quickly wriggled out. I couldn’t handle his hug when every part of me was jealous that I hadn’t been the one to help. I couldn’t find comfort in his arms, otherwise I’d burst into waterworks. “Tell me. Tell me everything.”
V let me go. “We stayed as long as we could. We got them there, filled in the paperwork, and waved goodbye as they took them to surgery, but we couldn’t wait any longer to find out the prognosis.”
His stomach growled loudly, shredding the taut atmosphere.
“But they’ll make it?”
His tummy grumbled again. Finally given a task I could perform, I headed to my secret stash in the fabric cupboard.
Vaughn looked at Jaz.
Her face was pinched. Her black hoodie and leggings painted her like a thief in the night. If anyone saw her dressed like that, she’d have a lot of explaining to do. “They were when we left them. But they’re with the experts now. All we can do is hope.”
Unwilling to fall into another pit of despair, I forced my mind to focus on one scenario.
They’ll make it.
Wrenching open the cupboard, I pulled out a box of muesli bars. Glancing at Jaz, I asked, “How did you keep them alive for so long? And where?” Ripping the box open, I tossed a bar to V and one to Jaz. They both caught them.
Jasmine smiled in thanks, tucking hers into the satchel of her wheelchair. V, on the other hand, tore off the wrapper with his teeth and devoured it in a few mouthfuls. “Fuck, I haven’t eaten in forever.”
Hadn’t they fed him? My heart hardened. More daggers of hatred grew toward Cut and Bonnie. I wanted to murder them slowly, painfully—to do to them what they’d done to innocent men and women.
Jasmine replied, “It wasn’t just me. I had help.”
“Damn right you did.” V winked. “Me.”
She smiled, a scowl plaiting with genuine amusement. “No, hotshot.” Her eyes met mine again. “Flaw.”
I froze. I was right.
My mind skipped to our conversation. Something about me not judging him, and how he was a good person. “He helped? How?”