Garrett is in a bad way. He’s pale and losing a lot of blood. We manage to get him into the back seat. We leave Tony to clean up and bring number one, as his tattoos indicated, back home to us. All that matters right now is our family.
Our broken family. Kenzo is hurt. Garrett is dying…he can’t fucking die.
I can’t lose him.
Panic surges through me until I smash my head into the dashboard to silence it. Ryder glances over, grim-faced, as he starts the car and backs away. “Can’t die, die, no die, can’t die.” I don’t even know I’m talking until a slap lands across my head.
“He’s not fucking dying, you hear me? So shut the fuck up, D!” she screams, and I look back to see the tears in her eyes. Her dress is torn and covered in blood, and the terror in her eyes is because, despite her yell, she’s worried he will.
“Little Bird,” I whisper, trying to help her, but Garrett groans just then, and she turns back to him.
“I’m here, big guy, I’m here,” she whispers, and his eyes open slightly.
“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs.
“No, don’t you fucking apologise. Just stay with me, okay?” she demands, and he snorts and then screams in agony, the sound filling the car and causing Ryder to smash the gas pedal. I jolt in my seat as Kenzo grips Garrett’s head tight to stop him from moving.
He settles down, but seems mostly passed out. As each mile ticks by, more panic fills me as I glance from the road to him.
Looking in the back seat, I watch our girl hold the dress to his chest to staunch the bleeding, her face locked in a determined snarl. My own panic winds through me, but I can’t help but admire her. She leans down into his face and slaps him. “You do not fucking leave me, you hear me? If anyone is going to kill your stubborn ass, it’s going to be me, so fucking fight!”
His eyes open again, his lips kicking up. “D told us you liked us.”
“Shut the fuck up.” She laughs, the sound choked from tears. “I still hate you fuckers.”
His eyes close again, and she leans down. “Please, please don’t leave me, everyone leaves me, please, not you too.” Her ragged plea fills the car, and tears well in my eyes as I watch her.
If I could do anything, I would. If I could save him or her from this, I would, but I’m useless, and it kills me. His hand is hanging from the seat, so I reach back and squeeze it. “Hold on, brother,” I order. “Who else will stop me from doing crazy shit if not you?”
“Or stop Ryder from being such a wanker.” Kenzo laughs, the sound weak.
“Or Rox from killing everyone,” Ryder adds.
“Yeah, you bastards need me,” Garrett mumbles, making us all laugh.
“We do, big guy, I need you, okay? Please, just hang on,” she begs, kissing him softly.
“The doctor is still there. I told him not to leave in case one of us got hurt,” Kenzo informs us. “We just gotta make it there.”
The next few miles pass silently, only broken by the jagged, wet breathing of Garrett and the whispered words of my little bird to him. They seem to do the trick, though, since when we get into the garage, he’s still with us. We can’t go to the hospital, they ask too many questions. No, here is better. We rush him upstairs, but he refuses to let go of Roxy’s hand, even when we lay him on the table and the doctor starts to treat him.
“Please, I need room,” he tells her, and she steps back, but Garrett jerks upright.
“Roxy!” he screams wildly, so she rushes to his side, soothing him as he settles back onto the table.
“I need to sedate him,” the doctor mutters, and before Garrett can protest, he does just that. We all watch with fear in our hearts at losing our brother. Our shoulders brush together as our woman holds him and the doctor works.
It takes hours until the exhausted man steps back and nods. “If he makes it through the night, he will live.”
Garrett is still knocked out, and at this point, Little Bird looks exhausted, her body swaying, though I don’t think she knows it. Her face is pale and lost. She looks so small, so quiet for our Roxy. I don’t like it.
I can’t help him, my brother, but I can help our girl. I look to Ryder and jerk my head at Rox. He nods as he helps Kenzo sit as the doctor looks at his stitches. Leaving them to it, I head her way.
Blood covers her hands, my brother’s blood, her lover’s blood. Her face is pale and shocked, and she’s not moving or speaking, so I gently lift her and cradle her in my arms. I take her to the bathroom, not wanting to be far in case he wakes up and starts fighting again when he doesn’t see her, but she needs looking after too.
She doesn’t fight me or speak, and that tells me everything I need to know. I run the sink and quickly, but gently, clean her hands, wincing at the split knuckles before washing her arms and face. She leans into my touch, her eyes closing as tears track down her cheeks. “We almost lost him, we almost lost them both.”
“But we didn’t, Little Bird,” I murmur softly. “We didn’t, thanks to you, and now it’s our turn to look after you.”
She lifts her head, her eyes finally connecting with mine. “D?” she whispers.
“Yes, Little Bird?”
“Tell me something, anything, to keep my mind busy,” she whispers so brokenly, I want to stab everyone. No one hurts her, no one makes her cry, not even my own brother. When Garrett survives and is better, I’m going to kick his ass.
“I never knew my real father. I liked to pretend the man she dated for most of my childhood was him. But then he left, just like everyone else. I tried to find the real man once,” I admit, sharing something I’ve never told anyone.
“Did you find him?” she asks, seemingly more alive now.
“No, probably some boring as hell accountant somewhere, could you imagine?” I tease, and she giggles slightly. “I know, I know, tell anyone and I’ll kill you, Little Bird.”
“I love you,” she whispers, leaning her head into mine.
“I love you too, Little Bird,” I reply.
We sit like that for a while, just staring into each other’s eyes, letting her rest, relax, and process, while I stay by her side. Her eyes search mine, and I stroke her, her thighs, her hair, her hands, every little piece of her until she curls into me. “Can I see him?”
Lifting her into my arms, I take her back into the living room and drag a chair closer before I sit and perch her on my lap. The doctor looks her over and binds her broken toes and fingers, cleans the cuts, and stitches one that needs it. She has cracked ribs as well, but there isn’t much he can do for that apart from giving her pain relievers, which she accepts. Her head is also bumped, and he warns she might have a concussion.
After he’s done, I move us closer to Garrett. She reaches out to him and twines her fingers with his. His head is turned this way, and his eyes are closed. It’s the most peaceful I have ever seen him.
“He loves you,” I whisper to her. “More than anything in this world. He never feared losing or dying before, not until you.”
She trembles against me, and Ryder and Kenzo drag chairs on either side of us. And that’s how we sit, all night, with our eyes on our brother, who’s fighting for his life, our woman between us.
When the sun rises, Ryder makes coffee, silently passing Little Bird one before sitting back down. “He’ll be okay,” she whispers.
“How do you know?” Ryder asks, weariness in his voice.
“Because he’s a Viper. Vipers don’t die,” she states. It’s the same thing we have said for years, and it’s like something clicks into place. How easily she slipped into our lives and became the center of our world. It will never be easy—fuck, I’m glad it won’t be, easy is boring—but having her in my arms makes all the blood, all the pain and power games, worth it.
And when Garrett groans and opens his eyes, clashing with Roxy’s gaze, it’s clear that without her…we are nothing. What started as a business deal has grown into something much more than we could have ever imagined. A life. A home.
Love.
The very things none of us knew we needed, including Little Bird, but now we have them together, and we are never letting that go. Or her.
I would chase her to the ends of this earth and drag her back, kicking and screaming…actually, that would be fun.
“The fuck you all look so morbid for,” Garrett rasps, then coughs.
We all share a look before bursting into laughter.
Vipers never die.
Vipers never fall…unless it’s for a tattooed, foul-mouthed bar owner.
