Page 92 of Pucked Around and Found Out

“There are moments in life that define us and our paths. This is one of those moments for you.” Carn’s softly spoken words hit like a hammer to my chest. I feel my throat start to close up and fight against the urge to surrender to feelings trying to weigh me down.

“Scott and the others have your brother. Xaden’s men are restrained but unharmed,” Halo adds. The fact both of them aren’t pushing me or trying to hurry my decision means a lot.

I take a deep breath and center myself.

To teach is to learn. To learn is to excel. To excel is to thrive. To thrive is to live.

“I’m not a fucking meme,” I grit out as I meet Carnage’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. “I’m not that confused little girl any longer. I know where I stand in this war now and I’m gonna make power moves.”

Carnage smiles, and the pride I see blazing in his dark eyes bolsters my courage like armor. “Atta girl, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice rough with approval.

I push the door open and step out onto the gravel driveway.

I know if I pause—if I give myself even a second to think about what I'm doing, I'll never do it.

So I put one foot in front of the other and start walking toward my own personal hell.

The building looms larger with every step. More imposing. More threatening.

Memories assault me with every inch of ground I cover.

The nights I spent crying myself to sleep on a thin mattress.

Emery.

The fights. The blood. The survival.

Harper.

The moment I realized no one was coming to save me.

Emery.

Without Em and Harper I would never have survived this place. They were my anchor, the foundation I rebuilt myself on.

The second I pass the threshold, I almost lose my nerve completely.

The smell hits me first—industrial cleaner and old wood and something indefinable that I associate with captivity.

With helplessness.

My legs nearly give out.

Without Xaden at my side, it feels almost impossible to traverse this place. To face these ghosts.

But then Carnage's hand settles on my lower back, warm, solid and grounding.

I look up at him, and my friend's face is carved from stone, dark and dangerous and absolutely unwavering in his support.

“Every step you take, I will match it,” he says, his voice low and fierce. “I'll be the pillar of strength you need in this moment to fight your demons. They can't conquer you, darlin’. You already beat them.”

His words wrap around me like armor.

“Don't let your past hold you hostage,” he continues, his eyes burning into mine with absolute conviction. “Let it go and show that weak bitch you share blood with that they didn't come close to breaking you.”

And just like that, the fear transforms.

Into rage.