28. Gage

Chapter Twenty-Eight

GAGE

“Look out, dumbasses!”

Ben and I split apart just in time for a teenage boy to zoom past us on a skateboard.

“Small-town charm,” Ben said dryly, watching with a half-smile as the kid vanished down the street.

The Devil’s Garden shopping district was one of the few places that hadn’t decayed past recognition while I was away. It looked like something from an old postcard, all brick-lined streets and hand-painted signs. The kind of place that reminded me of a childhood I’d never had, filled with Saturday morning cartoons and popsicles on the porch. Boutique windows gleamed with elaborate displays that catered to the town’s wealthiest families.

Dominic might shop here, but it wasn’t my scene. If I’d been driving, we wouldn’t have come, but Ben’s babysitter had insisted. Colton Langford reeked of money. A big box store would be beneath him.

On the upside, the fancy shit offered a nice distraction for Ivy.

A few days had passed since we’d found the footprints, and Eden felt like a powder keg. We hadn’t said a word about it to her, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d noticed the tightened security, Marcel’s constant presence, and Loretta’s sudden insistence on the buddy system. She was a smart kid; she might not know the details, but she knew she wasn’t safe. She felt it, just like I’d felt it for years until my old man came sniffing around.

I refused to let what I’d been through happen to her, so I’d broken down and told Wyatt everything I knew about Paulie. No sign of him yet, not even at the Dead End where his kind gathered like cockroaches.

I glanced back at her when she paused in front of a bakery display. She was clutching the hem of her fraying sweatshirt and staring wide-eyed at the po’boys wrapped in crisp paper, rows of shiny pralines, and pecan pies stacked like trophies.

“You doing okay, kid?” I asked.

She startled, and her eyes snapped to mine. “Yeah.”

I didn’t believe her for a second, but I wasn’t going to push.

“Feels like we don’t belong in this world,” Ben said sympathetically, watching an old couple walk hand-in-hand toward the city park.

“Yeah, well, this place stays the same. We don’t.” I shoved my hands deeper in my pockets and nudged my brother down the sidewalk. “You called anyone yet? Let your old buddies know you’re back?”

Ben hunched his shoulders and scuffed his boot against the sidewalk. “Not yet. No point until I get this thing off.” He tilted his ankle, revealing the bulky monitor beneath the cuff of his jeans. “And ditch the babysitter.”

My gaze shifted to Langford, leaning against his polished sedan a block away. With his tailored suit and mirrored sunglasses, the guy looked like he’d just nabbed a corporate sponsorship. I hated him on sight. Who wouldn’t? Everything about him screamed privilege, a man who’d never struggled or lived on the edge. Guys like him saw too much and understood too little. He wasn’t close enough to eavesdrop—officially—but his presence alone was a reminder that Ben wasn’t truly free. Not yet.

It made me want to put my fist through something.

“Okay, for real. Who is that guy?” Ivy whispered.

“Prison guard in a suit,” Ben said, grinding his teeth and deliberately not looking at him.

Langford’s expression was unchanged. I wasn’t sure if he’d even heard, or if he just didn’t care.

Ivy pressed closer to me, curling her fingers into my sleeve, and asked, “Do we have to do this?”

“You need clothes,” I said, giving her ponytail a playful tug. “You can’t live in two sweatshirts forever. Unless you want us picking something out for you?”

“Don’t look at me,” Ben said, looking horrified. “I don’t even know how to dress myself anymore. What do I know about teenage girls?”

“Better hurry! Storm’s rolling in,” Langford called, trailing us at a stroll as we headed into a shop that didn’t look too stuffy.

The scent of leather and perfume washed over us, but it didn’t make my nose itch like most strong scents. Soft lighting highlighted racks of neatly folded jeans and t-shirts printed with trendy logos for dirt bikes and beer brands.

Despite her complaints, Ivy was already ahead of us, sifting through a rack of sweatshirts that looked exactly the same as the one she was wearing. I gave her space but kept my eye on her.

Ben wandered toward the denim section, running his fingers over a pair of jeans like he had no idea what to do with them. Five years had made him taller and broader, but quieter too. He moved carefully, like a man who still hadn’t learned to trust his own body. He’d changed in ways I couldn’t pin down yet, but he was still the brother I’d always looked up to, the one who’d never hurt a fly. I wanted to see him smile again. Picking out clothes for his bigger frame felt like a small step, but it was a start.

“So,” I ventured, aiming for casual and missing by a wide mile, “how’s it going at Langford’s place? All marble and self-flushing toilets?”

Ben snorted out a sound that was almost a laugh. “Just about.”

Something in that laugh disturbed me. Ben had always been the warmest of us, the one who could find the good in everyone. Now, he sounded like he was running on autopilot. Just surviving.

“You okay?” I asked, studying him carefully.

His mouth pulled into a thin line, but he kept his eyes fixed on the stack of jeans. “I’m good. Just got to keep one foot in front of the other, right?”

I glanced away to keep the pressure off him, toying with a row of leather boots lined up like soldiers on a shelf. “You know I’m here for whatever you need, right? We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“Catch up, huh?” For a moment, his eyes gleamed with a trace of his old humor. “You want to start with Vegas?”

The laugh I barked was so loud that Ivy’s head came up on the other side of the store. She was milling near the front entrance, clutching a pile of t-shirts and hoodies in her skinny arms. I waved her away and said, “Not much to tell. Saw some shows, got into some fights, and made a hell of a lot of bad decisions. I grew up.”

Ben’s chuckle was low and humorless. “Same. Just with less neon.”

Somehow, that was all there was to say.

“Well, we’re home now,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “Time to get you looking human again. What kind of fit do you want?”

“Anything that doesn’t have a number stenciled on it.”

“Atta boy.” I clapped him on the shoulder and turned to Ivy. “You good over there, kid?”

The spot by the door where I’d last seen her was empty. My heart lurched as I cranked my neck around, scanning the empty dressing rooms and nearby racks, but she was gone. No grumbling, no bleach-blonde ponytail bobbing through the aisles—just an unsettling void where she’d been.

“Ivy?” I called, sharp and loud, ignoring the startled glances.

Ben’s head snapped toward Langford. “Where the hell is she?” he demanded furiously.

Langford’s composure didn’t waver. “I was watching you,” he said, as if that excused everything. “That’s all that matters.”

“Like hell it is!” Ben snarled, shoulder-checking him into a clothing rack and bolting after me.

I hit the street alive with people and started shoving through the crowd. Couples strolled arm-in-arm, teenagers laughed in clusters, and a man strummed a guitar on the corner for loose change. Normal shit. Nothing that said panic . Nothing that said run.

Ben caught up and clamped a hand on the back of my neck to stop me. “Think she ran?” he asked, scanning the street like a watchdog.

“No. No way.” She might have run from her other foster homes, but not us. Not after finally finding a place where she had a chance to feel safe.

The shopping district only got busier to the east, so I turned west, jogging because I couldn’t flat-out run. Ben was on my heels when I veered down a side street and froze. A truck was idling just a few blocks away—and there she was.

Paulie Tibbs had one hand clamped over Ivy’s mouth, the other wrapped tight around her waist as he dragged her toward his waiting truck. She’d lost a sneaker, and her bare foot scraped the concrete as she thrashed. Her eyes were huge and terrified over the edge of his hand.

That look hit me like a sledgehammer. I knew that feeling. I remembered the rush of terror and helplessness, the sense that my borrowed time was up.

“Gage!” Her scream was muffled behind his hand, but I heard.

Instinct roared to life, and I wasn’t thinking anymore—I was moving.

Paulie barely had time to react before I slammed into him, hitting him like a freight train and driving him onto the pavement. His grip on Ivy broke as he fell. She stumbled, collapsing on her hands and knees, but Ben was there to scoop her into his arms.

“It’s not six-to-one anymore, asshole,” I spat, crashing my fist straight into his face. The crunch of his nose breaking was sickening, and I fucking loved it.

Paulie grunted, trying to shove me off, but size and rage were on my side. I straddled his chest, hammering his face again and again until the pain in my knuckles was a black fog filling my mind. The fear in Ivy’s face fueled every blow. He’d ripped her away from us, manhandling her like she was nothing.

He was nothing.

I could kill him right here, exactly like I should have done when my father came back for me five years ago, and the world would only be better for it. My knuckles split, slicking my hands in hot, sticky blood until I couldn’t tell whose was whose. At some point, he stopped fighting back, but that only made it easier.

Somewhere beyond the red haze, Ivy was screaming my name. It mingled with the wail of sirens until I couldn’t be sure what was real. Someone grabbed me from behind, dragging me off my victim. I heaved and tried to flip him over my shoulder, but the guy was too big and too heavy.

“Gage, stop!” Ben yelled, hauling me off Paulie’s limp body. “You’re going to kill him!”

It wasn’t his words that cut through the fog in my head—it was the fear in his voice. I staggered, chest heaving, shaking so violently I could barely stand. Ben’s grip steadied me as I stared down at Paulie’s crumpled body. His face was swollen and unrecognizable, choking on the blood pooling in his mouth and nose. But he was still breathing.

I tore my gaze away, searching for Ivy. She was pressed against the brick wall of a vape shop, tears streaming down her face. Langford knelt beside her, checking her scraped hands and knees with infuriating calm.

When our eyes met, her face crumpled with such profound relief that the hell inside my mind finally began to ebb. She pushed off the wall and ran to me, throwing herself into my arms so hard it drove the air from my lungs.

My right hand was dripping blood, so I curled my left arm around her and glared at Langford over her head. “You were the one by the door. How did you miss him grabbing her?”

“My job is to watch him,” Langford said, nodding expressionlessly toward Ben. “Yours was to watch her. Don’t get mad at me because you fucked up.”

“You’re a selfish bastard, you know that?” Ben growled, stepping forward like he wanted a piece of him too.

Langford looked at him silently, and I had a feeling his eyes were cold as ice behind those mirrored lenses. He stood, dusting his suit, and said to me, “Those sirens are for you. Better get your story straight before they arrive.”

Red and blue lights were coming up behind us, reflecting in the shop windows. Crowds clustered on the sidewalk a safe distance away, while others shuffled past with their phones out to record the carnage. I ignored them, staring down at the blood slicking my fingers. Even now, it felt like I hadn’t done enough.

“Let it go, Gage,” Ben said quietly, as if reading my mind.

Ivy huddled against me, squishing her face against my chest until her tears dampened my shirt. “You saved me,” she kept whispering over and over. “You saved me.”

I closed my eyes and cradled the back of her head with one hand, careful not to smear blood in her hair. The weight of what I’d done was starting to slam down on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Ben had once sacrificed everything to protect me. Tonight, I’d done the same for Ivy. No matter what came next, I’d never regret that.