Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Then everything went to hell.
The panic when I woke to Legion burning with fever beside me, his brand an angry red against his skin, was the kind where time slows down and you simply can't breathe.
The chaos at the compound gate when the sheriff showed up with that fucking warrant. Cash sitting in his truck, watching it all unfold with that smug half-smile he gets when he's won something.
"Child welfare concerns," the papers said. As if Cash has ever given a single fuck about any child's welfare, especially not a Kane.
The emergency hearing was a joke. My lawyer—the best money can buy, of course—made all the right arguments. The new trailer on Kane land was as good as any home in this county. Brand new and still immaculately clean, the inspection of it the day before the hearing went well. The social worker seemed to think it was the best place for Mercy. I had resources. I had a genuine connection with Mercy. I was perfectly capable of being her temporary guardian in the Kane home while Legion recovered.
Then Cash's lawyer stood up.
"Ms. Ashby has shown severe lack of judgment," he said, like he was discussing a wayward teenager instead of a thirty-year-old woman. "Allowing herself to be lured into an outlaw biker lifestyle, exposing a minor child to criminal elements..."
Lured. That fucking word still burns. Like I'm some helpless princess who couldn't possibly choose a life that didn't involve designer dresses and charity galas. Like I didn't walk into that clubhouse with my eyes wide open, knowing exactly what I was doing.
But I couldn't say that in court, could I? Couldn't stand up and say, "Actually, Your Honor, I chose Legion. I chose his world. I chose to let a man named Chains write 'PROPERTY OF DEMON' across my tits with a Sharpie, I chose to suck his dick in front of fifty people to show my allegiance to him, and I fucking loved every minute of it."
That… though true, is not what a judge wants to hear. Not if I wanted any chance of helping Mercy.
So I sat there, hands folded in my lap, playing the part of the Ashby heiress who'd had a momentary lapse in judgment but was now back where she belonged.
It didn't matter. Cash had already won. The judge took one look at the "brand-new trailer with no established connection" versus the "stable family environment of the Ashby Ranch" and made his decision.
What Cash hadn't counted on was Legion's infection going septic.
Of course the brand looked like shit, and of course, I noticed this when I looked at him. But he seemed fine. Everything seemed fine until his body started shutting down and heating up.
Ten days ago, I barely knew a condition called sepsis existed.
Today, I feel like an expert.
But I didn't see the signs. And Legion, being Legion, isn't the kind of man who complains about pain.
He wanted that brand. To him, it was an honor. It should have made him untouchable. It was a signal to anyone—whether they knew it or not—that Demon Kane was protected.
Instead, it tried to kill him. By the time Dusty and I got him to the emergency room in Terry, his fever was 104, and he was barely conscious. They stabilized him just enough to medi-vac to Miles City, and that's when I figured out, he was fucking dying.
Like… dying.
Forty-five minutes later I had a private ambulance pick him up and we flew to Mayo. They were pissed, because I didn't tell them we were coming. If I had, they'd have said no. They will take an emergency case with enough palm greasing, but normally it's a 'no'.
I was not in the mood for 'no'.
There wasn't a chance in hell I was gonna accept a 'no'. Not from anyone.
And when we got there, the doctor said if I had waited another few hours to get him to the hospital and start treatment, Legion would have died.
Died.
Next to me, in bed.
So actually—and this is kinda fucking ironic—the fact that Cash and the sheriff showed up that morning, waking everyone up, causin' a commotion—is the whole reason Legion is still alive.
God is funny. Not really funny. Not at all funny, actually. He just has a way of showing you things you don't wanna see in the most unexpected ways.
His entire body was infected by the time he arrived at Mayo. The wound required surgical debridement, and four high-grade antibiotics failed before the doctors reached for the last-resort: colistin—powerful enough to kill almost anything, toxic enough to risk shutting down his kidneys to do it.
For six days, I sat beside his bed, watching machines breathe for him, praying so hard. Begging for divine intervention.
It worked.
But there was a price.
There's always a price.
Cash thought he was so clever. Get Mercy, get me back to the ranch, problem solved. But he didn't count on Mercy refusing to eat unless she could visit Legion.