Cutters gang who lived over there to work the farm were a bunch of thugs and miscreants. I’d had run-ins with them from time to time, particularly when I’d first arrived here. They assumed I was an easy target as I was alone. But they were wrong in that respect. In fact, being alone only made me more deadly. Because I didn’t have a single thing left in the world that I could lose.
My gut twisted uncomfortably at that thought as my mind rested on the three brothers I’d never known I had. They’d said they wanted to know me. But too much had happened, too much had been lost to me. I didn’t even know myself anymore, so how could I expect them to get to know me? For my whole life I’d believed they were my sworn enemies. The Romeros- scum of the earth. But now…
I gave myself an internal slap for letting my mind turn to that. I had more pressing issues at hand.
There was a girl in my home who needed my help. And that definition encompassed several things. Firstly, she needed shelter, food, water – all things I could easily provide. But she also needed security, protection, safeguarding against those filthy motherfuckers who’d hurt her. And I was willing to offer her that too. Though maybe not in the way she expected. I meant to pay those men back in blood for what they’d done to her.
I wanted to memorise every scar on her flesh and deliver it back to them tenfold. I wanted to carve them limb from limb with a butcher’s blade and bathe my fury in their blood. I wanted to make them beg and plead and scream for mercy just as she no doubt had done. And then I wanted to make them just as silent as her. More so. Permanently.
But I couldn’t easily do that right now. Not while she was still here. I couldn’t hike around the mountain with murderous intentions and leave her here unprotected. What if they split their numbers and some of them came here while I was gone? What if I died while trying to destroy them? They’d figure out why I’d come and they’d be back here for her in a heartbeat. And it would all be worth nothing if they ever got their hands on her again.
I was staring. I knew it. But it was hard to stop. Looking at Winter felt like looking at a wild creature who was preparing to bolt. Even in sleep, her brow was pinched and her hands tightened into fists.
I hated seeing her on the floor like that. Curled in on herself protectively as she tried to escape her demons and hide in the solace granted by sleep.
Her hair was deepest red and shone like wet blood where it pooled around her. With those big, green eyes of hers, she looked like something straight out of a fairy tale. Though I guessed her story wasn’t all princes and happily ever afters. I doubted she’d ever fully heal from the scars those men had placed on her. And I didn’t mean the physical kind.
My gaze slid to my rifle which was still propped by the door and I was flooded with the desire to pick it up and go hunting. But my quarry wouldn’t be wild animals with innocence in their souls. No, I’d be hunting barbaric men with evil in their hearts and I’d soon be painting the snow red with their blood.
A soft whimper drew my attention back to the girl at my feet and I watched as she shivered, tugging the blanket closer to her.
It was always chilly in here in the mornings. The fire had burned low and I hadn’t had the chance to stir it yet and add some new logs. The freezing winter air liked to creep into the place as it fought to reclaim it.
She shivered again and I huffed out a breath. It was ridiculous. The bed was right there, covered in blankets and far more comfortable than the goddamn floor.
I crouched down beside her and gently reached out, meaning to pull her into my arms and transfer her to the bed.
The moment my hand brushed against her spine, her eyes snapped open and she whirled on me. The flash of silver warned me about the knife just in time for me to smack her hand aside and send it skittering away across the floor.