Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose against the pounding headache that had set in. It had been pure chaos the last several hours, but with the most critical of their wounded either recovering or stable, he had stepped outside to get some fresh air. Aimee required more surgeries yet, and he needed to clear his head.
He hadn’t really had a chance to process the day’s events. Things had gone so very wrong, and much of it he couldn’t even begin to explain. Islet’s body had been removed from the infirmary, but the bloody bits of bone, meat, and brain matter had been unceremoniously scraped to the side of the room with a shovel to keep people from slipping in the mess. Anthony remained unconscious, and it was uncertain if he would ever wake.
Jesse had tried to intervene when Anthony’s gun had come into view, but it had taken him too long to make sense of what he was witnessing. The gunfire had been deafening, each shot distinct and deliberate. The scene played out at surreal crawl, but his body wasn’t reacting quickly enough to the scream in his head to move. By the time he had acted, Anthony was already turning the gun on himself. He hadn’t closed the distance quickly enough, and Anthony’s slumped form joined that of his sister’s.
Jesse had immediately severed himself from processing Islet’s death—or Anthony’s attempt to join her. He hadn’t afforded himself the distraction while those still alive needed help. It was only now that he finally found the time to ruminate on Islet’s passing.
He hadn’t really known her or Anthony particularly well. Not enough to form much of an opinion of them anyway. He had gotten the sense that they weren’t suited for this life, but who was he to judge? The same had once been thought of him. Not that it mattered now. Islet was dead and her brother… Even if Anthony survived, there would be no place in the pack for him after what he had done. Given the circumstances surrounding his actions it was doubtful the pack would mete out any retribution against him, but he would never be accepted either.
Jesse let out a sigh and leaned back against the side of the warehouse. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and rested one foot against the wall at his back.
The pack was still recuperating from their brief but vicious spat with the Scions, and now this? Life had certainly been simpler once, he mused. It was a curious thought he mulled over for a time. If he could go back and change everything, would he? It didn’t take long for him to determine the answer. The Bloodstones had his back when everyone else had turned away. They had become more family to him than his blood relatives. No, he wouldn’t change anything. He was right where he belonged. Life with the Bloodstones was often punctuated by violence and brutality, but it was also meaningful. Meaningful and filled with laughter, camaraderie, and kinship that always endured even at their lowest.
It was a thought that gave him a sense of resolve as he turned and headed back inside.
He hadn’t really had a chance to process the day’s events. Things had gone so very wrong, and much of it he couldn’t even begin to explain. Islet’s body had been removed from the infirmary, but the bloody bits of bone, meat, and brain matter had been unceremoniously scraped to the side of the room with a shovel to keep people from slipping in the mess. Anthony remained unconscious, and it was uncertain if he would ever wake.
Jesse had tried to intervene when Anthony’s gun had come into view, but it had taken him too long to make sense of what he was witnessing. The gunfire had been deafening, each shot distinct and deliberate. The scene played out at surreal crawl, but his body wasn’t reacting quickly enough to the scream in his head to move. By the time he had acted, Anthony was already turning the gun on himself. He hadn’t closed the distance quickly enough, and Anthony’s slumped form joined that of his sister’s.
Jesse had immediately severed himself from processing Islet’s death—or Anthony’s attempt to join her. He hadn’t afforded himself the distraction while those still alive needed help. It was only now that he finally found the time to ruminate on Islet’s passing.
He hadn’t really known her or Anthony particularly well. Not enough to form much of an opinion of them anyway. He had gotten the sense that they weren’t suited for this life, but who was he to judge? The same had once been thought of him. Not that it mattered now. Islet was dead and her brother… Even if Anthony survived, there would be no place in the pack for him after what he had done. Given the circumstances surrounding his actions it was doubtful the pack would mete out any retribution against him, but he would never be accepted either.
Jesse let out a sigh and leaned back against the side of the warehouse. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and rested one foot against the wall at his back.
The pack was still recuperating from their brief but vicious spat with the Scions, and now this? Life had certainly been simpler once, he mused. It was a curious thought he mulled over for a time. If he could go back and change everything, would he? It didn’t take long for him to determine the answer. The Bloodstones had his back when everyone else had turned away. They had become more family to him than his blood relatives. No, he wouldn’t change anything. He was right where he belonged. Life with the Bloodstones was often punctuated by violence and brutality, but it was also meaningful. Meaningful and filled with laughter, camaraderie, and kinship that always endured even at their lowest.
It was a thought that gave him a sense of resolve as he turned and headed back inside.
