“RIPPER, PLEASE. PLEASE don’t do this.” I hated the sound of the begging leaving my mouth, but I was desperate. He didn’t say anything as he dragged me farther behind the club. Once we reached a door at the side, he unlocked it and pulled me in front of him.
“I suggest not fighting me right now. As much as it makes me hard—” he pushed his pelvis into my ass “—it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
I wanted to ask what he meant when he shoved me forward.
“Down the stairs, Zillah,” he demanded.
I did as I was told, walking down into the basement of the club. It smelled damp, like the basement hadn’t been finished and was just used for storage. A sudden scent hit me, making my stomach churn. It smelled like … death. So much death. I shook my head, warding off the impending nausea.
“Keep going.” Ripper pushed me forward.
I picked up the pace, but I couldn’t see anything. There were small lights on the ceiling, but it did nothing for the dark hall we were walking through. “Where are you taking me?”
Again, he didn’t answer.
“Why are you doing this? My dad trusted you,” I threw at him. “I trusted you.” He was like family. An uncle. He had my back when my dad was being too pigheaded to see reason. But now, I understood. I got it. My dad was protecting me. Not just from outsiders but from the men inside his club too. Did he know all along what would happen? “Ripper. Please. Just tell me that the boy and Catch are okay.”
In a quick move, he had me against the wall and his face mere inches from mine. “Shut the fuck up. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be quiet.”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked him, my voice shaking.
“Why not?” He took a step back and waved in front of him.
I continued walking.
“I watched you grow up,” Ripper said, breaking the unnerving silence between us. “I met your father before you were even born. And when you were, I watched you grow up into the beautiful woman you are today. I never wanted you until you hit puberty and you started wearing those sexy as fuck little sundresses.”
Bile rose to my throat at his words. My dresses had never been little. Not like he let on. And I always wore Shit-Kickers with them. “Ripper, you don’t want to do this.”
He chuckled.
We finally reached the end of the hall, stopping in front of a set of doors. “Yes—” he opened the door “—I do.”
Ripper shoved me inside so hard, I fell on my knees and landed in something thick, something sticky.
When the lights turned on, I saw what I was kneeling in. My gaze moved around the room, taking in the horror before me.
Ripper chuckled from behind me. The sound cold and vile.
I screamed.
(Tray)
My vision faded in and out. The pain slipping through my body enveloped me in an onslaught of utter agony. But I welcomed it with open arms. It reminded me that I was still, in fact, very much alive. I needed Zillah. I needed my girl back. She left, and I couldn’t run after her.
“Go with her,” I begged Catch. “Please. I don’t trust those bastards, no matter how much she does.”
He had only nodded and did as I asked. I could never thank him enough for that. I just prayed with everything in me that it didn’t backfire on any of us.
“Tray, open your eyes.”
My body stiffened at the deep voice, my gaze landing on … Butcher?
He smiled down at me.
“You’re … What the fuck.” I tried sitting up, but my body was too heavy. “You’re dead,” I whispered.
Butcher shrugged. “Maybe so, but it doesn’t mean I can’t stop by for a moment.”
“I’m clearly dreaming.” I shook my head. “What’s going on?”
“Zillah needs you.” He sat his large body on the metal chair by the bed I was lying in. “Everyone needs you.”
“What are you going on about? You’re acting like I’m the one who’s dead.”
“No, but you are fighting for your life.” He tapped the machine standing beside me.
“I …” My heart thumped hard behind the walls of my rib cage. “I can’t …” Zillah. My eyes suddenly popped open. Butcher was no longer in the room with me. I was at the hospital. Lifting my hand, although heavy, I pulled the tubes from my nose and took a deep breath of fresh air.
Sitting up slowly, everything spun around me. I was so damn weak. What the hell happened?
A nurse came into the room, stopping short when she looked my way. “Oh, you’re awake. I’ll get the doctor.” She rushed out of the room and came back a moment later with an older woman wearing a white coat.
“Doctor?” I asked, my voice rough.
“What gave you that impression?” She smiled down at me. “I’m Doctor Kelly.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, breathing through the sudden rush of pain.
“Your friends brought you here and we rushed you into surgery. The wounds weren’t deep, and they didn’t hit any vital organs.” The doctor patted my hand. “You’re lucky.”
Lucky. Right. “Where is everyone? I need …” Fuck, I needed Zillah. I needed to know that she was okay. That she was still mine.
Suddenly, Greyson appeared in the doorway.
“Grey.” I swallowed hard. “Tell me.”
He glanced at the doctor.
“I’ll be back in a bit.” She gave him a curt nod and left the room.
“Tell me something.” I sat up higher on the bed, breathing through the pain. “Anything.”
Grey sat down in the same chair that Butcher had sat in during my dream. “Catch and Zillah.”
“What about them?” I had sent Catch off with Zillah to protect her. They were going to confront her father from what I assumed. Nothing could have gone wrong, right? God, I was so damn naïve to think Shadow wouldn’t put his club first before his daughter. “Greyson.”
“We haven’t heard from them,” Greyson finally said. “It’s been almost twenty-four hours. I have my contact tracking their phones, but he hasn’t been able to pull up anything. These guys are good, and I think it goes beyond Shadow.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean …” Greyson rubbed the back of his neck which I had come to learn over the years that he did whenever he was nervous. “I don’t think he has anything to do with this.”
“Fuck me.” I needed out. I had to find Zillah. I had to find Catch. They needed to come home. I needed them home. I couldn’t lose them. I couldn’t.
“Tray.”
“Shit. I—” Everything crashed down on me all at once. The weight of the pain we had been dealing with for the past year, crushed me.
“Hey.” Greyson moved to the spot on the bed beside me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “We’ll find them. I’ll do everything in my fucking power to make sure they come home. And I won’t give up until these fuckers are six feet beneath the ground we walk on.”
“I can’t lose her.” My body shook. “I only just found her, Greyson.”
“I know, brother.”
A soft knock sounded on the door before it slowly opened. “Can I come in?” Eve peeked her head into the room.
“Of course,” I told her.
She came toward us, holding Jaron in her arms with Cyrus at her side.
“Hey, little man.” I patted the spot beside me.
He sat on the edge of the bed but kept his distance.
“Your dad was a good man, Cyrus.” I sat up further, breathing through the pain, and gripped his arm in a gentle, but firm, hold. “He died with honor.”
Cyrus’ dark eyes met mine. They were red rimmed but dark. So damn dark, they promised years of therapy and pain. “I have no parents. I have no brother. I’m all alone.”
“No,” I snapped. “We will find your brother. You are not alone. You have us. We are your family.”
Cyrus looked away, folding his hands in his lap. “I’m going to kill them. Every single one of them. Maybe not now.” He met my stare. “But, eventually, I will.”
He was much too young for all the hate rolling inside of him, but I got it. We all got it.
“I know.” There was no point in arguing with him. The twins were going to follow in their father’s footsteps whether we tried to stop them or not. It was like having a cop for a father or having the men in your life come from a military background. The kids were bound to follow.
“We’ll find your brother,” Greyson said.
“And we’ll give your father a proper burial,” Eve added, her voice thick.
Cyrus nodded. “When you kill whoever shot him, I want to know.”
“We can’t do that.” I shook my head. “Your dad wouldn’t want that.”
“I don’t give a shit.” Cyrus jumped from the bed. “You owe me this much.”
“Okay.” Greyson stood and walked around the bed toward him. “We’ll avenge him, Cyrus. We’ll avenge everyone.”
Cyrus nodded, looking between all of us. “I need my brother back. I can’t do this without him.”
“We’ll find him.” Not that I could do much from my current position, but I would crawl on my fucking stomach to bring them home.
“Did you want to go grab some food with Jaron and me?” Eve asked Cyrus.
He opened his mouth to argue, no doubt, but let out a sigh instead. “Sure,” he murmured. He was just like the rest of us and could never say no to a pretty lady.
Once they left the room, I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.
“Where exactly do you think you’re fucking going?”
Ignoring Greyson, I stood on shaky legs. “I’m getting my girl back. I’m getting Catch and Sammy back. And I’m going to put a bullet through whichever fucker started this shit.”
“You just had surgery, Tray.”
“Do I look like I fucking care?” I yelled, ripping the IV out of the back of my hand.
“Tray. Fuck.” Greyson stood in front of me. “You think you can get out of here without anyone noticing?”
“Yes, I do, actually, because you are going to help me. And then I’m going to drive over to Shadow’s club and burn the fucking city down until I find them.” I wasn’t making any sense. I knew that. But I needed them back. I needed Zillah back in my arms. I had surgery. I was alive. That’s all that mattered. Fuck recovery. That could wait until I had her safe beside me. Until then, I wouldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop at fucking all.