Sage

It takes only minutes to get to the charred remains of the wheat mill I rigged to blow so many years ago in an attempt to take out each and every one of the turncoat motherfuckers. Only…I didn’t do a good enough job because one of the cockroaches managed to creep past us. The buildings are mostly gone, but there’s still one standing. That has to be where he has her. I go right up to the door—play right into the asshole’s hand.

I cut the engine to my bike and start walking to the door when a gunshot rings out. “That’s far enough.” Wells. He steps out from the side of the building, his gun aimed at me. “I knew you would be too hotheaded to worry about telling anyone to come with ya. Didn’t take you as long as I thought. Drop all your weapons,” he demands, and I turn around to face him. His face is almost completely melted off, and I inwardly smirk because he and the Chicago chapter assholes did the same to Gin. I start reaching for my weapon when he pulls the trigger, causing dust to rise up from the ground at my feet. “Don’t try nothin’ stupid, and go nice and slow.” I do as he says and drop my guns to the dirt, along with the knife in my boot he yells at me to give up.

“Where is she?”

“Your barely legal bitch? Inside.” He smirks. “Start walking and you can see her.” He nods toward the door, and I quickly start forward, the need to see if she’s okay taking over.

The heavy metal door pushes open with a scrape along the cement floor and the strong scent of gasoline hits my nostrils. A small bulb hangs overhead, lighting up the sparse room, along with two windows at the opposite end of the room. The light from the day starts to fade with each passing second. Then, I spot her—on her knees, looking up at me with sad eyes, tears flowing freely as she sobs silently on the floor.

“You got yourself a Rider. What are you going to do now?” I growl.

Wells doesn’t answer. Instead, I take a heavy blow to my back, right at my kidneys, and drop to the floor, my hands slapping the cold concrete. “Fuck!” I gasp, trying to regain purchase, but don’t get a chance before a kick from Wells’ boot lands hard on my ribcage, making me roll to my side. “That all you got, you ugly bastard?” I taunt him, pissing him off further. His boot comes down again and again, before he pulls my body up into a metal chair. The sound of zip-ties being strapped around my hands and my feet right to the chair catch my attention. I try to move, only to get a blow to my temple.

“Quit moving,” he grumbles as he gets the last strap into place. “You are going to sit here while this whole fucking place lights up around you.” Stepping away, he pulls out a lighter and taunts me with it, flicking it open to light it, only to slam it shut again. “I sat there in one of those fucking buildings, pinned under a beam while my face melted away. The only way I got out was from the beam laying on top of me burning through enough to fall away from trapping me! I sat there, the smell of my own flesh burning, the heat from the fire telling me to die, but I didn’t. Do you have any idea how that feels?” he yells out, as if I would care. “Look at my goddamn face! You burnt it to shit!”

“That he did. Just like you did to mine, asshole.” My head snaps to the still open door where a ghost stands, pointing a gun right at Wells, ready to pull the trigger and end all of this shit once and for all.