✔Cupcakes to Kill For

35. Sal's Clinic🧁

Police sirens pounded in Casey's head as he held Wyatt close, sitting in the backseat of Emmett's car. August laid beside them, keeping pressure on his wound. Flames escaped through every crevice of the ramshackle hideout, engulfing every inch in its wrath. Casey watched it from the back windshield as Emmett started the ignition and sped off.

The whole neighborhood reeked of smoke. Nosy neighbors came out to witness the destruction, but it was too late to save anyone. They'd all burn in that god-forsaken building.

Fire trucks pulled up to the scene first, combating the fire with their long hoses that Wyatt found fascinating. Casey couldn't resist his grin as he called out to the "firefucks" saving the day. Although it hurt his bruised face to smile.

They got out of there before any of the police cruisers arrived. Only when they reached the Voiceless Rebels own turf did Casey let himself relax just the slightest bit.

"We'll get your guy back there to our doc," Emmett said. "I'd drop him off at a hospital, but that'll put him back at the scene of the crime."

"No hospitals," August grunted.

"We won't." Casey reached a hand out, gently squeezing his. "But I'm making sure you get better care this time. Not some slapdash bandaging."

Soon enough, they arrived outside a clinic. Beyond the horizon, sunlight peeked out and lit up the dingy parking lot. Another car parked up at the entrance, and when Emmett retrieved his phone, a portly little man hurried out with a wheelchair.

Casey made room for the man, clad in a lab coat. He held Wyatt close, letting the doctor examine August briefly before hurrying him inside. When the two of them disappeared inside the clinic, Emmett led them inside and locked the doors behind them.

"Who is this guy?" Casey asked. "Is he a real doctor?"

"Yeah, Sal's licensed." Emmett retrieved a carton of cigarettes and his lighter. He lit himself one, blowing a puff of air to the empty receptionist desk.

"Are you allowed to smoke in here?"

Emmett shrugged. "Sal doesn't care what I do."

"Do we just wait here?" Casey glanced down the pristine, dark hallway. It reminded him of something straight out of a horror film.

"Yep. Alfie's gonna hide my car back at our hideout, so it looks like no one else is here. We gotta keep watch and make sure nobody drops by. If they do, I'll get Sal and hide you all."

"Jeez, it sounds like you've done this before," Casey remarked.

While waiting, Emmett took a load off behind the receptionist's desk, spinning around in the swivel chair. He reached into a drawer, rummaging around before pulling out a pack of Nutty Bars. "Y'all want some?"

Casey shook his head. "No thanks."

Wyatt stirred in his arms, pleading as he gazed over at the pile of snack cakes Emmett stacked up on the counter. It made Casey realize how his son probably hadn't much, if anything at all, during his time in captivity. Just the thought of what they made him go through sent bristles against his skin.

"Alright, you can have some." Casey lifted his boy up on the counter so he could choose some snacks.

"Looks like they gave ya a nasty cut there," Emmett remarked, gesturing to the cut on Wyatt's cheek.

"It hurt." Wyatt pouted as he snatched up a pack of cosmic brownies.

"I bet it did." Emmett rolled his chair over to another drawer, grabbing some band-aids out of a little kit.