Watching Trask shuffle through the visitor’s room fills my chest with the kind of dread that I thought I’d never feel again after my old man went away. He still appears disturbingly gaunt, hair shaved down to a stubble, arms and legs shackled together. Plus that orange jumper still looks ugly as shit next to his pale complexion. His eyes are hauntingly empty when they land on me.

I’ve witnessed his deterioration over the past couple months, but this is the first time it’s hitting me hard that he’s forever changed by all this. Even after he’s set free, which could be another ten years down the road, I’ll probably never experience another jam session with my carefree buddy while he’s smoking a joint and giving me shit about banging chicks. The truth rips through my gut with the force of a dull hacksaw blade.

I meet him beside the table, throwing my arms around his narrow shoulders and whispering, “It’s over, brother. Me an’ Bender found King Marty’s warehouse and called the cops. We know what he made you do. Your attorney thinks it might be your way out of this nightmare.”

Trask stiffens, arms at his side, and doesn’t say a damn word. The guard yells at me to back away, so we settle around the table across from each other. Trask’s eyes are all over the place—anything to avoid landing on me. I fuckin’ hate witnessing my best friend’s decline.

“Talk to me,” I plead. “At least tell me how it happened.”

“I swear I didn’t know there were kids dying at first.” The confession comes in a decibel almost too quiet to be heard, and he still refuses to look my way. “I was selling pot to the college crowd when they told me to start rounding up recruits willing to donate a kidney for a big chunk of change. I knew it was illegal as shit, but didn’t figure it was hurting anyone as long as the kids were getting paid. Hell, I even considered selling one. Once I discovered what was really going on, that they were also selling their goddamn lungs and hearts, I told them I was out.” His monotonous tone sends a chill through me. It’s like he’s completely detached from the conversation. “They tried to blackmail me into staying, said putting a bullet in my head would be too easy for what they’d be forced to do if I left.”

“Who are they, Trask? Who else is working with King Marty?”

I swear he’s on the verge of crying when his dull, lifeless eyes finally settle on me. “You shouldn’t have brought the cops into it, Rook. You don't understand what the fuck you’ve done.”

“Listen.” I lean in over the table, throat burning with the need for him to accept the plan. “I get why you did it, okay? No one’s judging you. You were only trying to provide a better life for your sister. Pete says you’ll likely still serve time, but it wouldn’t be anything like this bullshit murder charge. They’d cut you a deal in exchange for your testimony.”

He leans in too, eyes dull and lifeless. “Do you really believe the truth is going to solve anything? People will be killed now that it’s exposed, Rook! You…me…even Sash! There are hundreds of millions of dollars involved in this operation. Do you comprehend how grave this is?”

I swallow hard. No way in hell I’m going to tell him about Sasha’s kidnapping with all that’s going on. Hoping to appear unaffected, I lean back, crossing my arms. “Yeah. Unfortunately, I do.”

“Then you understand why a couple of South Siders won’t be able to stop something like this from going down. There’s no way in hell I’m going to go up against them, so don’t fuckin’ ask. They made it clear if I ever ratted them out, they'd ruin my life. They're ten times more powerful than anyone realizes. Their investors are congressmen and judges…important types that would do anything to guard their secret. There are federal agents in their pockets, keeping the bureau off his trail. No judge in their right mind would take the word of a thug like you over everyone involved.”

Shit. I never considered there may be high-profile figures involved in King Marty’s ring. What if we inadvertently handed Sasha off to one of them? Brooke said she trusted everyone in that room, but the right amount of money can change almost anyone.

Anger over the whole shitty situation and Trask’s reluctance to fight spreads over me like a second skin. I frown at him with my heart thrashing against my ribs, muscles in my jaw clenched. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna sit back and let them convict you of a murder you didn’t commit?”

He runs a hand along the back of his neck. “Maybe I deserve it for what I did.”

“Stop acting like a fucking coward! Your sister needs you!”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Pounding his fist into the table, he shoots up to his feet. “This is the only way I can be sure they won’t hurt her!”

“Would you sit down?” I glance around, unsurprised that his outburst gathered the attention of everyone in the room. Paranoid that someone on the inside's watching Trask, I lower my voice when I say, “We have a plan in place that will protect her.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Rook!” he snaps, spreading his arms out at his sides. “You may as well leave, because I’m not agreeing to this bullshit! There’s too much at stake!” He turns, waving his hand at the guard who brought him in.

Throwing both hands into my hair, I stand while drawing in a slow, steady breath. “Trask, please. Hear me out.”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “No, Rook. You wasted your time by coming here.”

As he’s turning back to the guard, another inmate the size of a linebacker rushes in behind Trask.

I open my mouth to ask the big prick what the fuck he’s doing at the same time he jabs something into Trask’s throat.

My best friend’s hands blindly reach for the shank.

His eyes lock with mine, burning with confusion.

Blood squirts from his neck, soaking into his white t-shirt and spreading down the ugly orange jumper.

Anguish pummels me as he buckles to the floor.

“No!” I roar, heart hammering.

I race to his side, wiping out on the tiled floor and having to skate the remaining distance like a newborn deer on ice. A guard beats me to him, holding one hand over Trask’s hemorrhaging neck while radioing for help with the other. The room becomes a blur of chaos as two other guards wrestle his assailant to the ground.

It’s like a scene straight out of a fucking horror movie. There’s too much goddamned blood.

On the verge of spewing, I take one of Trask’s bloodied hands in mine. “Hang in there, brother! Help is coming! Don’t you fuckin’ leave me!”

With the horrific gurgling noises he makes as he fights for air, my eyes fill with hot tears.

“Fucking do something!” I yell at the guard, forming a fist with my other hand. “He can’t breathe!”

As the words come out of my mouth, Trask heaves with one last desperate attempt for air before becoming limp. His eyelids relax and his head drops back. The guard checks Trask’s pulse, his disappointed expression confirming what I suspected. What I feared more than anything.

Desperation slams into me as I gather my friend in my arms. “Nononono! Don’t go, Trask! Don’t go!”

Hot tears fall down my face as I rock his lifeless body back and forth. This was not how his story was supposed to end. Sasha needs him. I fuckin’ need him! He’s the brother I always wished I had! Our kids were supposed to grow up to be friends like us, only we were going to find a way out of this Hell on Earth!

Rage blazes through me, too intense to see beyond its dark spots.

King Marty was behind this. It can’t be a coincidence.

And I won’t let him get away with it.

* * *

Swiping the pistol from behind the bar at Slick Willie’s is easy-peasy. Everyone knows the dumb bastard leaves one locked and loaded behind the case of vodka beneath the register. It’s even easier convincing the red-haired waitress that once gave me head to wait out back so we can fool around. She didn’t even seem to notice I’m covered in the blood of my dead brother.

The two drunks bellied up to the bar sip on their beers, merely watching with curious gazes as I stuff the gun into my jeans and head out the door.

I blow out of there, marching across the neighborhood on autopilot to King Marty’s mansion. I’ve been in that state of mind since I walked out of the jail. It was easy enough to slip out unnoticed once the ambulance arrived. Leaving Trask behind was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

I’ve only ever hated one other man with every fiber of my being, and he’s still fighting for his life. I won’t give King Marty the same opportunity.

The layout of the three-story house stretched high into the sky before me is as familiar as the back of my hand. Having spent more time than I’d care to admit with his nephew, I’m well aware where King Marty sleeps and works. Hell, I even know what bathroom he likes to take a dump in. It won’t be hard to track him down if he’s inside.

If Ryker gets in my way of executing revenge, I won’t be held responsible for what happens. If he didn’t have his head so far up his ass, maybe he could’ve helped me stop this from happening. Stopped Trask from getting killed.

A car horn blasts behind me. “Liam!”

With the sound of her voice, I grunt without turning around. “Get the fuck outta here, Brooke.”

She pulls up into the driveway, leaving her car running when she jumps out. Planting her feet between me and the house, her fingers grip my arms. I can’t draw my eyes away from her cheeks covered in mascara-stained tears, glasses missing from her face. “I saw the ambulance pull into the jail…I heard what happened. Baby, I’m so sorry your friend is gone. I can’t imagine how hurt and angry you must be. My heart ripped right in two for both you and Sasha. But this is not the answer.”

“Go away.” I try shaking her off. “I can’t let you be a part of this.”

Her grip only tightens. “No. I’m not leaving without you.” She’s trembling all over as she tips her head at the camera positioned above the gates. “You see that? They already have proof you were here. You go after him like this, and you’ll either wind up in prison or dead like Trask. I won’t stand back and let that happen! You have to listen to me, baby!”

“I can’t let him get away with this!”

“I know, sweetheart. But you have to let the authorities handle it.” A rush of tears spill down her cheeks as she closes her eyes, shaking her head. “Please, please don’t leave me, Liam! I need you more than I’ve needed anyone! I love you too much to let you go!”

She throws herself against my rigid body, sobbing my name and pulling on my shirt.

Something deep down inside shatters, rendering me helpless. I’m physically unable to ignore her when she’s falling apart this way.

A rush of emotions seize my heart as I give in, clutching her to me. Silent tears stream down my face as I squeeze her little body tight, savoring her scent and the steady beat of her heart against mine.

No one could ever replace my best friend, and I can’t imagine a day when it won’t hurt knowing he’s gone. But a part of me manages to feel whole again with Brooke in my arms.

It doesn’t mean I still won’t go after King Marty.

I just need to be smarter about killing the bastard.

* * *

“They were cleared outta there by the time the cops arrived.” Pete raises his voice like I’m fuckin’ deaf. “Liam, did you hear me? The warehouse was empty except for the equipment left behind by the canning distributor. The sheriff doesn’t have any valid reason to bring Blackwood in for questioning. They’re treating it like a prank call.”

I end the call with my heart in my throat.

Trask died for nothing.

With a guttural roar, I throw my cellphone against Jordan’s kitchen wall.

Jordan comes at me, palms of his hands held out. “Whoa. Take it easy, kid.” We spent a good hour telling him everything over a 12-pack of beer. He went through a range of reactions with every tidbit, the strongest being betrayal for the way we snuck around behind his back. Oddly enough, he wasn’t that upset when Brooke told him she loves me. “You need to take a deep breath.”

Brooke sits at the kitchen table, arms wrapped around her knees, big eyes glued on me. “What’d Pete say?”

I drop into the chair across from her, letting my head fall into my hands. “The warehouse was empty. They think it was a bogus call.”

Her shoulders drop. “What about King Marty?”

“They don’t have a reason to bring him in.”

“Didn’t you tell them about the girl they were dumping in the river?” Her voice cracks with tears. “What about the gunshots, and finding Sasha tied up, or—”

“Yes, Brooke!” I lift my head to throw her a warning glare, nostrils flaring. “I told them fucking everything! That spineless bastard probably already left the country anyway! They’ll never be able to pin this on him! You should’ve let me kill him when I had the chance! But you had to be fucking selfish and ask me to stick around for you!”

Brooke stands on shaky legs, chin quivering. “One day you’ll understand that what I did wasn’t selfish. I saved your ass. In the meantime, fuck you, Rook.” She storms from the room, seconds later slamming a door somewhere in the house, presumably to my room.

I get that calling her selfish was an asshole move. At the same time, leaving King Marty unharmed wasn't doing Trask any favors either. At least she didn’t leave, because I’m not convinced I’d make it through the night without her around to talk me down.

Jordan takes her place across from me, rubbing at one temple. “I know you’re angry, and it’s justified. But you’re gonna have to take it a little easier on her.”

“You want me to write her a fuckin’ apology?” I snap.

“I know what you’re going through is hard, but I saw firsthand the kind of hell she’s been through. She was four months pregnant when they dropped her in the same foster home as me. We became as tight as real siblings because we were all each other had. Our foster parents were drunks that were always runnin’ off to the casino. We made a pact that we wouldn’t let anyone from the South Side break us. I was the only one there for her the night she had the baby, and I helped her make the decision to give Brylee up for adoption. She’s tough as nails, but everyone has their breaking point. Like I said before, her heart’s bigger than average. I’ll kick your fucking ass if you break it.”

Finally able to understand why they’re so close, I meet his scowl. “I wouldn’t do that to her. I’d do anything to make her happy. I legitimately love her. I’m fuckin’ serious, man.”

“Glad to hear it. I wouldn’t actually kick your ass though. I’m not that brand of asshole. It just pisses me off to see you treat her that way.” His scowl lifts. “I’d find a better way to make your ass miserable.”

“Noted.” I heave a sigh and slump back into the chair. With the reality that I’ll never see Trask’s goofy ass grin again, my chest’s hollowed and empty. Facing this dark world without him is too…hopeless. Too somber. And now that Sasha will probably still be sent away, it’s like I’ve lost them both. “I don’t know where to go from here.”

“You start by honoring your friend’s memory in the best way possible,” he answers in a firm, steady tone that leaves no room for question. “You said the two of you always talked about leaving the South Side, so do it. Do it for him. Take those scholarships they’re throwin’ at you and make something of yourself. Don’t stick around here, stewing on a need for revenge. Don’t become a thug. Be the kind of decent, intelligent kind of person I know you’re capable of being. Be the kind of man who deserves a woman like Brooke.”

I peer up at him, trying to smirk, but my cheeks only twitch against the pang of sorrow pulling me under. “You givin’ us your blessing?”

“Fuck no.” A scowl pulls at his features. “You have a long way to go before convincing me this thing with you two is legitimate.”

Throwing him my hand, I tip my chin. “I’ll make it happen. I swear.”

He shakes my hand, lips quirking with a small grin. “Better get in there and apologize to her before she starts chucking your shit out the window.”

Dropping his hand, I slump my shoulders and shuffle back to my room, knocking before pushing the door open. She’s laying on my bed, arms crossed over her chest, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” I offer. “I was an ass to say that shit to you.”

“You’re heartbroken. It’s understandable.” One hand wipes at the corner of each eye beneath her glasses. “I can’t stop thinking about Sasha…how we abandoned her…how she’ll be alone when they tell her the news about her brother. What if I was wrong? What if there was another way to keep her safe without sending her away?” She throws an arm over her face right before her shoulders shake and the room fills with her sobs.

My chest cracks wide open as I lower down to the bed, pulling her against me. She’s right, and there’s not a single fucking thing I can say that will fix it. Her arms wrap around my neck and she clings to me, soaking my neck with enough tears for the both of us.

I tell her that I love her over and over again while stroking her smooth dark hair. There’s nothing else I can do, except take Jordan up on his suggestion to split before the South Side claims us too, and work on being a man worthy of her love.

* * *

Long after Brooke falls into a deep sleep in my bed, I head out to the garage, flipping on the cool blue lights Sasha said would make the experience of jamming more authentic, like we’re performing for a live audience. The sight of Trask’s drum set almost brings me to my knees.

“It’s not right,” Stone mutters behind me.

Heart lurching into my throat, I reel around to face him. “The fuck you doin’ here?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He runs a hand through his wild hair, eyes heavy when they meet mine. “Those drums and his sister are all he had. Came over here to see them, thinking it would remind me of the good times. Only makes me want to light a match to the fuckin’ things.”

“May as well take your guitar back to your grandma’s. Can’t stand the thought of playing without him. And there’s no way I’ll set foot in the same room as Ryker.”

“He doesn’t think his uncle was involved. He has his reasons. But he’s just as torn up about Trask as the rest of us. We have to stick together to get through this.”

I face him again, shaking my head. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What proof do you have that King Marty had a hand in any of this? Ryker was right. Just because you know Terrance was involved doesn’t make him guilty by association.”

“I know King Marty was behind Trask’s murder!” I seethe with a new bout of anger vibrating against my bones. “That fucker needs to pay!”

Staring off at the drum set, he clamps a hand down on my shoulder. “I get why you’re convinced of that, brother. And I’d like the chance to personally slit the throat of whoever ordered his hit. But I’m not so sure you’re right about King Marty. Ryker tried to confront him about Trask, but he can’t get ahold of him.”

“Probably because he’s too fucking busy hiding all the evidence that proves he was behind this! Either that or he ran like the coward he is! Don’t you get it? He sent Trask and Terrance to go after those missing girls! He sold their goddamned organs!”

Brooke shuffles in behind us, wearing my favorite Zeppelin shirt. She squints against the intrusive light, dark hair falling over half of her face. “Everything okay?”

The sight of her looking soft and pretty instantly soothes the edge of my anger. “Stone stopped by to get his guitar.”

Brooke’s eyes fall on Stone. “You’re leaving the band?”

“We’re not playing without Trask,” I snarl.

“Why don’t you guys sleep on that decision.” Her voice is every bit as gentle as her hand that wraps around mine. “He would hate knowing you quit because of him.”

I jerk my hand from hers, scowling. “What would you know about what he’d hate?”

“Don’t be a dickhead,” Stone interjects. “She’s right. No reason to make a decision tonight. Do yourself a favor and go back inside, enjoy some pussy. Trask wouldn’t want you sitting out here on your own, stewing over shit that’s out of your control.”

He storms out without taking his guitar.

Releasing a deep breath, I run my hands through my hair. “I’m sorry,” I blurt, unable to look Brooke in the eye. “Maybe it’d be best if you left for a few days while I sort through this shit. Seems I’m only going to keep hurting you.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can take it.” She holds my jaw in one hand, waiting until I meet her tearful gaze. “You’re the one I’m worried about. You’ve lost so much since I met you, Rook. And I know what the band means to you. Trask believed in you guys, and with good reason. Promise me you won’t completely write off the idea of playing again. It might be the only thing that will get you through this, the same way it saved you from your old man’s abusive bullshit.”

I’m far from ready to make that kind of a promise, so I merely take her in my arms and kiss her. Now that Trask is gone, she’s the only one who gets me. She’s the only one who understands it’ll take a miracle to save me from this nightmare.

She’s the only one who can pull me out of the darkness.