I was in a daze. There was no proper word to describe my mental state. Shut down? Broken? I felt like my soul had been ripped from my body and I was just lingering above, watching the scene unfold powerlessly. I was saved. I wasn’t dead. I wasn’t stuck in a hole. Yet my body reacted like I still was.

Hawke grunted and pushed through the bush, seemingly going in a particular direction. It felt like he walked forever with no end in sight. By the time the forest met the road, I was in a bubble of warmth and weak beyond words.

“We’re here,” he told me, his voice still gentle in an unfamiliar way. “You’re safe.”

He let go of me with one hand, and the slight imbalance caused me to fist his shirt, shaking my head as the fear of being let go shot through me. I didn’t realize I’d been repeating the “don’t let go” line again until he said, “Emma, I won’t drop you. Don’t worry.”

He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a key. I turned my head and saw a black SUV parked on the side of the road. He went to it and unlocked the passenger side. He opened it and delicately placed me inside against the black leather seat. When he closed the door, he hurried to the other side and slipped in. Turning on the car, he blasted the heaters. He had a deep look of concentration on his face – a face that was coloured with dirt. I looked at him like he was some ethereal god sprung out of nowhere to rescue me. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I couldn’t move forward. I was in too much shock.

“H-how did you find me?” My voice was small and scratchy.

“I followed you,” he replied, turning his large body to me. “Graeme messaged me after you left and gave me the address of the bar. I came across the cars, the men, and…Graeme.” He swallowed thickly. “How are you feeling? I couldn’t get to you sooner. I had those fucks to take care of. I’m sorry.”

I blinked at him. Was he seriously apologizing? “You saved me, Hawke.”

“I would have liked to have done it sooner. The big guy was harder to take down.”

I looked him over. “You…you killed them?”

His eyes narrowed. “Of course I killed them. I plucked them off one by one.”

“All five?”

He nodded solemnly. “If I wasn’t so pressed with time, I’d have done a little more to those fucks.” His gaze dropped to my shaking hands and he frowned. “Now answer me. Are you alright?”

Tears fell as I looked away from him. “Graeme is dead.” Saying that out loud gutted me. The ache was so fresh. I covered my hand over my face and sobbed.

“I know,” he replied shakily.

“They killed the others in minutes. I didn’t want to run away. I hid and watched them shoot him. He kept screaming for me to run…and I didn’t want to leave him, but I had no choice. If he’d just run off with me, if…if we’d done something else…It’s my fault. I never should have left –”

“Hey,” Hawke interrupted, moving closer to me. He didn’t touch me, but he leaned forward, until his face was close to mine. “None of this is your fault,” he whispered. “You understand? None of it. If it wasn’t today, it would have been some other day.”

“But Graeme…”

“Graeme knew the risks. Hell, we all know the risks.”

“He died for me, Hawke.” I looked at him between the strands of hair cloaking my broken face. “He’s dead.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. He didn’t need to. I saw the pain in him. He let out a slow breath before pulling away. “Yeah,” he finally muttered faintly. “He is, but you’re not, and I’ve got to take care of you.”

He took hold of the steering wheel and turned the car around. He booked it down the road, driving fast. There was a sudden distance between us, like minutes ago he hadn’t been cradling me to his chest tenderly and telling me I was alright. With my current feelings, I needed that closeness. No, I desperately needed Borden. I needed his arms instead. I needed his warmth, his words, his love. He was the one that needed to take care of me.

“Where are we going?” I asked Hawke, feeling every part of me go slack in the comfortable seat.

“To safety,” he answered.

“To Borden, you mean.”

For some reason, he didn’t respond to that.

With his jacket still wrapped around me, I had pressed my head against the window and somewhere along the way fallen asleep. With every bump we drove over, I’d awake, startled and afraid. “It’s alright, Emma,” Hawke would tell me, reaching his arm out in my direction but never touching me.

“Where are we going?” I asked him sleepily. None of the areas we were beginning to pass were familiar. I was so discombobulated, I hadn’t paid attention to the roads.

“Like I said, I’m taking you somewhere safe,” he told me.

“To Borden,” I whispered, already slipping back to the blackness.

“Rest, Emma. You need it.”

I didn’t argue. I couldn’t hold on to consciousness if I tried. All that screaming, all that horror, and all that raw pain had fatigued every inch of my body.

I was slightly relieved for the blackness.

Eighteen

Emma

The car door slamming shut jolted me awake. It was dark everywhere. I looked around and caught Hawke’s figure moving across a parking lot and to a large red brick shop with the name Warlords INK. A tattoo parlour.

Instantly feeling uneasy, I stared at our surroundings. It was completely desolate except for a line-up of three black motorcycles out front. What the hell was I doing here? How long had I been sleeping? I looked back at Hawke and watched him as he pounded on the black front door. The place looked eerily dark. The windows were blacked out and had bars over them. There wasn’t a sign of any life. He pounded on it again, harder this time, and the door suddenly opened. Two men in black appeared. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but I saw Hawke leaning forward, pointing a finger in their faces and then pointing over their heads at something, or someone. Immediately they nodded and left, leaving the door open. Hawke turned back and walked to the car, moving to my passenger door and opening it.

“Come on, little one,” he demanded. “Time to get out. We’ll put you in a bed in no time.”

I didn’t move. I gripped my belt tightly, staring uncertainly at him. “Where am I, Hawke?”