35. Wyatt

Chapter Thirty-Five

WYATT

Pain dragged me back to consciousness like a claw hooked in my chest. Every breath was shallow and wet, laced with the metallic tang of blood. It felt like someone was dragging a rusty razor over my broken ribs.

My face was a wreck: split lips, a relentless throb behind my swollen eyes, and blood dripping down my face to pool in the hollow of my throat. My wrists were swollen beneath the zip ties, and my fingers had lost all feeling, but I tested them anyway. Pointless. Even if I managed to snap them, my legs were useless dead weight.

Unless it was in a body bag, I wasn’t going anywhere.

Dominic had been at it for so long that the lantern on the wall was guttering. I blinked at the warped beams of the ceiling, trying to focus, but I wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. My head lolled to the side, and there he was.

Dominic had lost his usual composure. Dark hair clung to his damp forehead, and his sweat-soaked shirt was stained with my blood. He stood in the open doorway, shoulders taut, staring out at the water.

A big guy stood beside him, speaking in a voice too low for me to hear. Marcel, I figured. Not like we’d been in any position for introductions. I couldn’t make out the conversation, but Dominic’s responses put me on edge. His voice was deep and guttural, raw enough that it sounded like he’d been the one taking the beating. The tension between them was thick enough to choke on.

The distant hum of a boat motor filtered through the night, growing louder with each passing second. Marcel gestured wildly toward the sound, shouting, “So fire me, you stubborn motherfucker! He already knew! This vendetta of yours is going to rip your family apart, and I’m not gonna sit back and let it happen.”

Dominic’s reply was too soft to hear, but the venom in his tone chilled my blood. He turned his head slowly, and his face was a mask of icy fury.

“I’ll meet them at the dock and try to fix this before it goes too far. But you?” Marcel jabbed a finger into Dominic’s chest. “You’d better get your head on straight.”

Dominic’s jaw worked, but he didn’t argue. With a disgusted snort, Marcel stormed out, boots thudding down the porch steps. The noise of the boat kept growing. Dominic stood frozen for a moment, silhouetted against the flickering lantern light. Then, with sudden fury, he stalked back into the shack.

With one vicious kick, he sent my chair crashing sideways. The impact sent fresh agony coursing through my battered body. Pain tore through my shoulder as I hit the ground, and I cried out for the first time.

His control was gone. He crouched beside me and grabbed a fistful of hair, forcing me to meet his blazing eyes. I’d never seen so much hate, but the craziest part was I didn’t get the feeling it was entirely directed at me.

“This is my fault,” he hissed. “I lost my temper. If I’d stuck to the plan, you’d already be gator food. Gage never had to fucking know.”

I wheezed, trying to draw enough air into my spasming lungs to speak. “Untie me…before he gets here,” I rasped. “I-if…you want to keep him from going berserk…you better untie me.”

Dominic’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You think I’m scared of Gage?”

I bared my bloody teeth at him. “You should be.”

Before he could reply, the boat’s engine was cut, and the blinding wash of a floodlight lit up the room. Dominic’s head snapped up, and his expression turned to stone.

Gage stood in the doorway, backlit by the lights like something out of a fever dream. He braced his clenched fists on the rickety doorframe, chest heaving as he took in the scene before him. For one stunned, agonized moment, his gaze locked on mine, and I saw the horror in them. His lips parted, but no words came out, just a guttural, broken sound.

With a roar that shook the walls, Gage launched himself at Dominic like a battering ram. The force of the collision sent them both crashing to the floor. Gage was on top of him in a flash. Dominic writhed like an eel to dislodge him, but Gage was heavier and more experienced. He trapped Dominic’s legs with his own and straddled him, raining down punches like a man possessed. Dominic managed to get an arm up to block, but Gage just shifted his angle and kept going. Each blow landed with sickening precision, and the dull impact of flesh striking flesh filled the cabin.

“Gage!” I tried to yell, but my voice cracked, little more than a rasp. “Gage, stop!”

If he heard me, he gave no sign. He was drowning in so much rage, he didn’t even slow down.

Dominic wasn’t fighting back. Not the way I’d expect, anyway. His hands were braced flat on Gage’s chest like he was trying to hold back a wild animal. “Gage,” he gasped. “You don’t?—”

Another punch cut him off, splitting his lip and sending blood spraying across the floor. His head snapped back, crimson streaking his face, but still, Gage wasn’t letting up. No matter how satisfying it was to get some payback, I had to stop him. If he accidentally killed his brother, it would break him. He’d never get over it.

“Gage,” I tried again, louder this time, but my throat felt like sandpaper. I shifted in the broken chair, tugging at my ties until my wrists screamed.

“Gage!” The voice cracked through the cabin like a gunshot, and Gage froze, knuckles hovering an inch from his brother’s bloodied face.

Gideon strode into the cabin like a force of nature, and for a moment, the storm outside seemed to calm. “Get the hell off him,” he commanded, low and lethal.

“He fucking deserves this!” Gage spat, voice trembling with raw fury.

“I said get off him .” Gideon wasn’t yelling. He didn’t even raise his voice, but somehow, that made him all the more dangerous. His fists flexed at his sides, and his breathing was measured but heavy, like he was holding himself back through sheer force of will.

The hair on the back of my neck lifted. Gideon wasn’t just stepping into the violence, he was soaking in it, wearing it like a second skin. His eyes were locked on Dominic’s bloodied face, but he didn’t look angry or disgusted. He looked at Dominic like he was something precious that had been mishandled, a relic dragged through mud, and he couldn’t decide whether to save him or break him the rest of the way. I had the sense of a tether between them that was fraying but hadn’t quite snapped.

For a second, I thought Gage would defy him. Then, slowly, he sat back on his heels, clutching Dominic’s collar in one hand while his free hand twitched at his side, like he didn’t know what to do without a target.

Gideon crossed the room and reached down to grab Gage by the arm, hauling him to his feet with one commanding yank. “Let go,” he ordered. “Let him talk.”

Dominic coughed, spitting blood onto the floor, but his defiant glare didn’t waver. “You don’t get it,” he said in a garbled voice. “You don’t even know what he’s done. I was protecting you.”

Gage’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll tell you what he’s done,” he snapped. “He saved me. He pulled me out of this godforsaken place before it could kill me. He watched out for me, cared for me, believed in me…even when I didn’t believe in myself. It doesn’t matter what you think he did because Wyatt is mine. I’ll always side with him over anyone. Even you.”

Dominic flinched.

Gideon’s tone was frigid. “Explain yourself, Dom. What did Wyatt do?”

Dominic’s gaze darted between his brothers, and then his shoulders slumped. He nodded at Marcel, standing uneasily by the door. Clearly, this wasn’t how Dominic had wanted things to go. I understood that much. He didn’t want to break Gage’s heart any more than I did.

Reluctantly, Marcel pulled a rolled-up file from his pocket and handed it over. “It’s all there,” he said apologetically. “Prints, computer logs, everything.”

Gideon flipped through the pages, keen-eyed, and then he passed the file to Gage.

Gage held the file like it was a venomous snake. As he read, his brows drew together and his expression darkened.

“Gage,” I croaked from the floor, trying to catch his eyes. I needed him to look at me, see me, believe me. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Gage didn’t look at me. He reached the end of the file, snapped it shut, and hurled it at Dominic’s chest. “Only a stupid, untrusting sonofabitch like you would believe that bullshit!” he snarled. “You think you’re so goddamn smart, huh, Dom? The state task force starts sniffing around Vanderhoff, and suddenly the one piece of evidence that could have cleared Ben shows up with Wyatt’s prints? Some coincidence, and you’re so eager to believe the worst of him, you fell for it.”

Dominic wiped blood from his mouth and glared. “You think I’d act on nothing? Wyatt’s been meeting dirty cops, accessing restricted files?—”

“I don’t care if he hacked NASA and used their satellites to order pizza!” Gage interrupted, sharp as broken glass. “I’d still know he wasn’t doing it for personal gain. I know him, Dom. Better than I know you. He loves me, and I never even had to do a thing to earn it. He’d never betray me.”

Dominic’s face twisted, and he said between clenched, bloody teeth, “If he’s innocent, why hide these things from you?”

“He was trying to protect me!” Gage lurched forward again, fists clenched at his sides. “That’s what he does. He protects people—even when it costs him everything.”

Dominic’s nostrils flared, but before he could argue, Gideon stepped between them, broad enough to cast a shadow over them both. “I warned you, Dom,” he said softly. “This road you’re headed down is only going to get worse from here. How far are you willing to go before you’ve lost everything? Will you only stop when you’ve driven us all away?”

Dominic’s lips parted, and something raw and yearning briefly flickered across his face. When he climbed to his feet, it looked painful and somehow fragile, like he’d become an old man overnight.

“I was trying to look out for Gage and Ben,” he said huskily. “I didn’t want them to hurt anymore.”

“That’s not your call to make,” Gideon replied. If they were normal brothers, he might have touched Dominic’s shoulder then, but they weren’t. He stood like a statue, implacable and expressionless.

With a sound of rage and disgust, Gage dismissed them both and headed toward me. My vision was so blurry, I could barely make out his face, but even through the haze I could read him like a book. Just like always, I could read his mood from his body alone. The quivering lines of rage were beginning to melt, sloughing off into something softer, almost tentative.

He crouched beside me and hovered a hand over my face, like he wanted to touch me but couldn’t find a safe, undamaged spot. “God, Wyatt,” he whispered, agonizingly tender. “I’ve got you now. I’ve got you.”

Marcel’s face was etched with guilt as he knelt beside us and pulled a pocketknife from his jeans. With a flick, the blade snapped open, and he sliced through the plastic binding my wrists. I wanted to reach out and wrap Gage in my arms so badly, but my arms were numb and limp. Dead weight.

“Shit,” Gage choked, curling his body protectively over me and brushing blood-matted hair back from my forehead. His hand trembled as his thumb ghosted over my swollen temple. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I rasped, licking my cracked lips before I could manage a wobbly smile. “I guess it was your turn to save me.”

Something wet was dripping onto my face, hot and salty on my lips, and for a confused moment, I thought I was bleeding again. I realized with a start that he was crying. Huge, silent tears that ran down his cheeks in streaks. Pins and needles were beginning to blaze through my fingers, but I managed to lift a trembling hand to his face. I clumsily wiped at his tears, and he let out a broken sob.

For the first time that night, the crushing weight in my chest began to ease. We were going to be okay. He trusted me, wholly and without question. Hearing him acknowledge that I loved him like it was a simple, undeniable truth had healed something inside me I never knew was broken. I wasn’t some mythical savior to him anymore. I was just the man who loved him, the man who would never betray him.

I might have saved him once, but he’d saved me, too.