Tears burn behind my eyes and I see Mayhem’s face soften, but his grip on my chin, around my arm, that doesn’t.
But before he can say anything there’s a pounding from downstairs, and it sounds like someone is going to tear down the door.
Then Ella’s voice floats up to us. “Mavy, I think he’s—”
Maverick groans, turns over his shoulder and shouts, cutting off her words, “Just leave it alone. I’ll deal with his ass.”
He turns back to me.
Releases me and steps back.
I can breathe again.
“He ran,” he finally says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts, looking down at the floor a second, before he looks back up at me.
“What?” I gasp out, sliding off the bed, my feet hitting the cold hardwood. I tug down my shirt, but it hits mid-thigh anyway, and besides that, Mav’s eyes are on my face. “What do you—”
The pounding on what I assume is the front door grows louder, and I think I hear someone yelling. My blood runs cold, my hands in fists at my side. Mav rolls his eyes, shaking his head.
“I had to…” He smiles softly, meeting my gaze again. “Drug you, because you almost took my eye out last night, trying to get to him.” His jaw clenches again as he stares at me. “By the time I carried you home and came back, Cain holding Lucifer inside his own house to stop him from getting to you, Jeremiah was gone. You guys are like fucking children.”
“He got himself out of the crate?” Anger burns through me all over again, hearing Mav tell me about it. About Lucifer. And they did it again. They fucked us again. I step toward Mayhem, the pounding on the door making the whole fucking house shake.
I shove Mav backward, and this time, he stumbles, keeping his hands in his pockets as he stares at me.
“You fucking put him in a dog crate, Mav!” I scream at him, my fists coming to his chest. But it’s not enough. I shove him again, and again, and he goes backward each time, until he’s up against the wall beside the open door, hands still in his pockets.
His expression is unreadable, his eyes locked on mine.
“Why would you do that? Why would you fucking…” I slam my fist against the wall beside his shoulder, stepping closer to him, getting in his face. “You know he didn’t have anything to do with the fucking guard and last night, with Elijah’s fucking wife, he was in the back of your goddamn truck!” My finger is in his face, my fist still planted on the wall. It throbs with that hit, and I punch the wall again, my heart racing, blood boiling.
“Where did he fucking go? Where is he? He wouldn’t have left me! He wouldn’t have fucking left me with you crazy fucking assholes!” I’m screaming so loud I can’t even hear myself think. I can’t hear my pulse pounding its way throughout my body. “Did you hurt him?” I scream again, dropping my fist from the wall, hitting Mav’s chest. “Did you fucking hurt him? What have you done? What the fuck have you done to us?” My voice breaks on that last word, my hands coming to my hair, pulling at the strands until my eyes water and my shoulders shake, a sob tearing through me.
My chest is so tight, and there’s a stabbing pain in my stomach and all I can picture is Jeremiah, eight years old, trapped in a fucking cage. Thinking about me. He’s always thinking about me.
And we didn’t ask for this shit.
We did nothing but be born at the wrong place at the wrong fucking time.
And in this moment, I hate my husband so much. He wasn’t my flinch. He was my fucking nightmare, sent to extend this curse on my stupid fucking life.
I hear pounding footsteps. People yelling.
I don’t realize I’m screaming until someone’s arms come around me, tugging me back against them, my eyes screwed up tight shut.
But when I open them, still pulling my hair, still screaming, I see Maverick. Standing against the wall, looking defeated, his eyes sad, and there’s Ella, stepping into the room, her long, red hair down her back as she looks from me to Mav, then throws her arms around him, and he slings one around her back, pulls her close to him and kisses her head.
And it’s my husband voice that’s whispering in my ear.