Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(26)

We got the most, but Sam—the loudest of the assholes—got the ones willing to cause trouble.” He grimaces. “Everyone was distracted the first week or two, but it didn’t take long before they tried a coup.”

The final residues of my anger wither like fire-caught parchment. I’m such an idiot. Clearly I’m too emotional right now.

What was I thinking, accusing him of not caring? Beau’s first reaction on seeing me was to calm me down and tend my wounds —and Lucky instantly wanted to bundle me up and cart me back with them. Of course they would have tried. Imagining them asleep and helpless while the people they’d protected came after them . . .

I’m beginning to get a bad feeling about why they’re alone.

“Dom had figured them out, though,” Lucky continues, almost motionless. It’s unnerving. Like he’s been powered down, all that joy and animation sucked into some dark, yawning black hole. “He was watching Sam’s group closely, so they didn’t catch us unawares and take us out in our sleep like they hoped. We caught them in the act. Subduing them was easy, at least—they weren’t so keen on fighting us while we were awake and armed, funnily enough—and soon we had ’em tied up all nice and pretty. But then we had to figure out what to do with them.”

Lucky looks back at the clearing, his neck corded with tension. Henrietta is nestled up against the wire fence, as close as she can get to him. A beady black eye rakes me head to toe. If I were a more fanciful person, I might think the ruffle in her black feathers is aimed at me for upsetting her friend.

Shifting my hand, I twine our fingers together until our naked palms are pressed against one another.

“We told the rest of the civilians the next day, asked them what they thought we should do.” The grim cast to his face is so unlike the Lucky I’ve seen so far, I feel the urge to cuddle up to him. “There was only one smart thing to do. They knew where we lived, they were full of hate, and they wanted what we had. We didn’t have the resources to keep them as prisoners, so . . .

the group wanted us to . . . to take them out.” He swallows, then looks at his feet. “I mean, it made sense. Would’ve been safer, you know? To kill them.”

A chill seeps into my skin, and I barely hear the last part. Did he say ‘take them out’?

I take a breath. Would I have been able to let those men go if I had them at my mercy? Knowing that they knew where I was and when I’d be vulnerable? Knowing they could, and most likely would, come back for me at some point?

He catches my expression, and his face softens. “We couldn’t do it. It’s one thing to kill someone in combat, it’s a whole different thing to execute civs in cold blood, even ones who attacked us first. We’re not murderers.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighs. “We exiled them. Don’t know if you know this about Rangers, but we get pretty extensive surveillance training.

We made it clear they weren’t allowed within fifty miles of Bristlebrook, and we spent weeks setting up motion sensor cameras, remote controlled cameras, the works, just in case they came back.”

“And did they?” I ask.

Lucky shook his head. “We’ve seen others, and we stopped them before they got too close. But no, they never came back.”

I nod, thinking that over, and we watch the animals in silence for a moment.

“What happened to the others? The families who were here,” I ask softly.

Lucky shrugs one shoulder, but the movement is slow, like he’s become too heavy to shift.

“It all fell apart after that. About half of the remaining civs decided to leave—the two families, actually. Said that we couldn’t protect them, that we wouldn’t do what needed to be done. They wanted to try to set up somewhere themselves.” His voice is a little bitter at that. “Dom took it pretty hard. But most of the women stayed, and a couple men. It worked for a while, but we had problems. People didn’t want to pull their weight. Jealousy. People hoarding supplies. Then there was everything with Heather, and the drama with Thomas, of course.”

Thomas? And was this the woman they mentioned earlier? The last woman they had here? As casually as I can, I ask, “Heather?”

Finally, a smile touches Lucky’s mouth again. “Nah-uh. That’s a whole other story. And not mine to tell. You’ll need to earn that one.”

I pout, humor lightening my mood again, and he chuckles.

“Whose story is it then?” I venture.

“Dom’s, mostly. Kind of Beau’s.” He sobers again. “Look, I will say that there was a lot of drama. The fallout of that relationship hit our whole group pretty hard, burned away a lot of trust. So just go easy on us for a while, okay? They’ll see you’re different soon enough.”

Well, that isn’t confusing at all.

I look at him sideways. “How could you know that already? That I’m different to Heather.”

Lucky laughs then. “Oh, sweetheart, you couldn’t be more different.”

“Jaykob said—”

“Ah, don’t listen to him. Jayk can’t see past his own prejudice. The only thing you have in common with Heather is that you both talk kind of fancy.”

I shake my head, disbelieving. Fancy? If he only knew. Maybe they aren’t seeing through me as easily as I thought they were.