36. Jeremiah

Chapter 36

Jeremiah

I stand over the middle-aged fucker, the scent of old books and blood mingling in the air. His face is a mess of bruises and gashes, courtesy of my fists. He whimpers, trying to crawl away, but I grab his collar and haul him back.

"Where do you think you're going?" I growl, tightening my grip. The bastard doesn't answer, just gurgles through a mouthful of blood. Desperation pulses through my veins. Oakley. My Oakley. The thought of her trapped, scared, makes my vision blur with rage.

"Answer me!" I shake him, and his head lolls like a rag doll's. Pathetic.

"Please. I didn't mean…" he stammers, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. Pathetic. This piece of shit dared to lay a hand on her, dared to think he could get away with it. The sight of his broken form should be satisfying, but it isn't enough. Not yet.

"Didn't mean what? Didn't mean to trap her in a goddamn freezer?" My knuckles are white from gripping his shirt, the scent of his fear mixing with the metallic tang of blood in the air. "You think you get to walk away from this?"

"Jeremiah, stop," a soft voice whispers behind me. I whip around, finding Oakley standing there, her blue eyes wide but not with fear—something else. Admiration? No, something darker, more complex.

"Baby, he hurt you." My voice cracks on the last part. "He deserves this."

"I need you to let me slay this demon," she says, stepping closer. Her presence calms the rage inside me, even as it stirs another, more primal need. Her delicate fingers brush against mine, and I release my grip on the man's collar. She kneels beside him, a strange calm settling over her.

"What are you doing?" I ask, head tilting, watching as my innocent girl sits in blood. I don't want her to see this side of me, but it's too late. She's already seen too much.

"Taking control," she replies, her voice steady and with such resolve in her eyes. She pulls the small knife I keep on me from my boot. There is only a slight hesitation before she lashes out. With a swift motion, she slits the man's throat, pushing her entire little body into it in order to sever the carotid. Blood pools around him, dark and viscous, staining the old library floor.

She stands, trying to wipe the blade on my sweatshirt, and looks at me with defiance and vulnerability. My pulse quickens, the sight of her strength intoxicating.

"You're full of surprises, baby," I say, stepping closer. I can feel the heat radiating from her body, the scent of blood and adrenaline mixing.

"Are you disappointed?" she asks, a challenge in her eyes.

"Never," I whisper, cupping her face with my hand. Her skin is warm, and she leans into my touch, closing her eyes .

"Hey! What the fuck is going on here? We're having a murder party without me, and that's just fucking rude." Penn's voice cuts through the haze.

"Can't you see we're in the middle of something?" My tone is ice; my stare, just as cold.

"Yea, I can. Still fucking rude of you, but we've got a fucking problem."

"Get to the point," I snap, feeling the adrenaline spike once more.

He strides into the room, his eyes looking between the lifeless body on the floor and the blood-splattered knife still in Oakley's hand. "Real fucking mess you've made here. Didn't know you had it in you, little Ashford."

"I was just channeling my inner Penn." My girl quietly says with a little smile on her face. She's always loved my brother and his quirks. She's never judged him for how off the fucking wall he is.

"The little peeping tom from earlier was a fine ass girl." Penn's words hang in the air, each one a nail being driven into our coffin. "And she slipped away from me."

"Fuck," Graham mutters, stepping forward with a scowl etched across his face. "You couldn't keep her under control?"

Penn shoots him a glare. "Oh, I'm sorry. Maybe if you weren't busy playing sidekick captain save a bro hero, you'd know how slippery she was. It was like trying to grab a butt plug covered in Crisco."

"How much does she know?" Oakley asks, her voice steady despite the fear flickering in her eyes.

"Enough to sink us all," Penn replies, running a hand through his hair. "I've gotta find her before she talks."

"Damn it, this is the last fucking thing we need," Graham growls from behind Penn .

"Right, well if you would rather handle it on your own then be my fucking guess lil bro," Penn snaps, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Stop it, both of you!" Oakley's voice slices through the tension, and we fall silent. "Fighting between each other isn't going to help."

"Penn, find her and end it."

"Jeremiah," she pleads, her touch gentle against my arm, "let's not become monsters over this."

"Too late for that," I mutter, but my gaze softens on her. "We'll handle it. We always do."

"I get to play Magnum PI," Penn says. "We need to move fast, cover our tracks here."

"Agreed," Graham adds, all business now. "Gotta start thinking like Blackwoods."

"Fine." I take a deep breath.

"Jeremiah," Oakley's voice is a whisper, barely audible over the pounding of my heart. Her grip on my arm tightens, and I can see the panic starting to set in her crystal blue eyes. She's trembling, her breaths coming in short gasps. Damn it, she's having a panic attack.

"Hey, hey," I murmur, trying to keep my voice steady, soothing. "I've got you, bunny. You're safe."

"Jeremiah, I can't—" She chokes on her words, her body going limp against me.

"Fuck this," I mutter under my breath. Without another thought, I scoop her up into my arms, cradling her against my chest. Her head lolls onto my shoulder, and I can feel the rapid rise and fall of her breaths against my neck.

"Stay with me, Oakley," I command, more for my own sanity than hers. Her panic is contagious, and I have to fight to keep my own anxiety at bay.

"Jeremiah, we really don't have time for this," Graham's voice cuts through the fog of my mind. He's standing by the door, his expression a mask of urgency and frustration. His dark eyes lock onto mine, and we exchange a tense glance.

"Take her home," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll figure out our next move."

"Fuck," I hiss, torn between wanting to stay and needing to protect Oakley. But one look at her pale, trembling form in my arms, and I know there's no choice.

Her grip on my shirt tightens. Panic rises in her eyes, and I can almost feel her slipping away back into herself.

"It's just me, bunny," I say, my voice firm but gentle. "You're safe now. I've got you."

"Jeremiah," she gasps, her body shuddering. "I can't…breathe…"

"Hey, look at me," I demand, tipping her chin up so our eyes meet. "You're okay. Just breathe with me, alright?"

"Fuck," Graham mutters, looking around at the dead body and the disaster that is the library.

"Yeah," Penn replies. "We've got ourselves a real fucking pickle here boys."

"Understatement of the century," Graham snaps, pacing back and forth. "Evidence is too strong. No way we can make this look like an accident. We're screwed, and I don't even know if Dad can sweep this under the rug."

"Oh, calm down," Penn says, his tone oddly soothing. "It's not like you two will pay the price he requires, anyway." His eyes darken, shadows creeping in, almost to the point it seems like his entire iris is black.

Oakley's fingers grip my shirt weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Burn it down," she breathes, each word trembling but resolute. "Burn everything to the ground. "

Her statement silences us all, the gravity of her words settling like ashes after a fire. Even Penn looks momentarily stunned.

He recovers first, shaking his head with a laugh that seems to echo unnaturally in the silence. "Oh, what the fuck," he mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Every time I suggest we burn shit down, I'm the problem. Little Miss Muffet here does it, and now we're all ‘yay fire friends.' This is bullshit." He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a silver lighter and flicking it open with a flourish. The small flame dances.

Both Graham and I just deadpan stare at him. I cannot with his bullshit right now. Everything is always a fucking comedy show.

"Lucky for you guys," he says, waving the lighter theatrically, "I've got my trusty lighter and enough gasoline in the generator outside to light this place up like Burning Man. Good job, you little guardian devil. Thank you for this gift of setting this motherfucker up."

"Well, she's definitely one of us now," Graham says.

"Fuck yeah, she is. I need to get her home, though."

"Go," he orders. "We'll handle this." His tone leaves no room for argument.

I turn to walk away, leaving my brothers to take care of the library and everything in it when Oakley peeks over my shoulder.

"Everything, Penn," she repeats, stronger this time, her conviction searing through her fear. "Ashes can't tell tales."

Graham laughs, the sound devoid of any humor. "She's not wrong."

"Damn baby Blackwood! You just made my dick hard with that one." I'm going to kill him. What's it called when you kill your own sibling? Fratricide. I'm definitely doing that shit.