Chapter 1

The Diamond

Smell. The first of my senses to trickle in. I wish it were anything else

because I'm instantly overwhelmed by the scent of body odor, spiced

cologne, and what can only be described as the stench of evil incarnate.

And then my sixth sense seeps in, whispering notes of warning and

urgency.

I’m in danger.

Those notes turn into a song full of screeching and loud noises, filling

my body with heart-wrenching panic. Adrenaline spikes, and just barely do

I have enough sense to remain as quiet as possible.

Slowly cracking open my crusted eyes, I’m greeted by complete

darkness. It takes a second to process that there’s a blindfold strapped

around my head.

Then, the blissful numbness I awoke in crumbles, and I lose my breath

when all-consuming pain filters in, engulfing my body in absolute agony.

God, is this what being alive feels like? It can’t be death. I’d be at peace

if it were. And I may have fallen for a stalker, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t

land a spot within heaven’s gates.

I fucking earned that shit.

Racking my brain, I try to think past the pain and remember what the

fuck happened to me. Vaguely, I recall text messages from Daya asking me

to come over. The urgency I felt when she wasn’t answering my calls.

Getting in my car, headlights, and panicking, being jerked forward, and then

nothing.

And now I’m here… wherever that is. But not somewhere safe.

Christ, was that even Daya texting me? Did something happen to her

too?

That possibility sends another wave of panic crashing through me.

Scenarios curtail and evolve until I’m a mass of anxiety and desperation.

She could be hurt or in serious trouble.

Fuck—I’m hurt and in serious trouble, and I’ve no idea how the fuck I’m

going to get out of it.

My breathing is escalating further, and my heart is beating so heavily, it

physically hurts as it slams against my chest. It takes what little strength I

have left to keep silent.

Where the fuck am I?

Where's Zade?

Quiet, dull voices are next, muffled by the noise in my ears but steadily

growing louder. I strain my ears, trying to hear over the beat of my heart

and the pain swelling in my body like a water balloon.

Somehow the agony has a voice too, and it’s fucking loud.

“Z will be looking for her,” one man says quietly. “But we’ll be fine

once we get to Garrison’s and chuck the van. We’ll get her there quickly.”

A particular memory knocks me over the head, flashes of being dragged

out of my car and the residual pain of glass and metal biting through my

skin. It explains why my back is on fire.

I’ve been fucking kidnapped—obviously. This had to have been the

Society’s doing. Zade had said they targeted me, and I know he had guards

stationed outside of Parsons Manor. They must have used Daya to draw me

out, which means there’s a high chance she’s been taken, too.

Fuck, I’m an idiot.

I didn’t even stop to consider it could be a trap when Daya wasn’t

answering the phone. I was so intent on getting to her in case she was hurt

or in trouble that it wasn’t even a consideration to call Zade. Not only could

it have saved me, but it also could have saved Daya, too.

I squeeze my eyes shut as a sob crawls up my throat. A tear slips through

my lashes, and my chest shakes with exertion, trying not to break down.

This was my own damn fault.

Zade warned me countless times they were after me, and the first trap

they set, I walked right into.

You’re such an idiot, Addie. Such a fucking idiot.

“You actually think we'll be able to hide her from him? It’s fucking Z,

man,” another man responds, this one with a slight Hispanic accent.

“We’re just giving the Society what they asked for. Which one are you

more afraid of? Them or Z?”

Fuck, it was the goddamn Society. I knew it, but hearing it confirmed

only sends a fresh dose of adrenaline into my system.

I don’t know why I got tossed into this shit, but they need to take me out

of this fucked-up salad of depravity; I don’t belong here. I belong in a salad

full of fruits and vegetables. Healthy things that don’t run me off the road

and enslave me.

The second man mutters, “I’d prefer not to fucking choose.”

It sounds like a hand slapping someone’s shoulder or back as if to

reassure him. “Too bad you don’t have a choice, Rio. Doesn’t matter. This

girl right here is worth millions. I mean, we got a fucking diamond here.

Just imagine it, dude—Z's girl, the one and only, up on an auction stage.

You know how many enemies he has? People will be frothing at the mouth

to make his girl their little toy. I’ll get my cut from Max, and the Society

will compensate you, I’m sure. We’ll be living fucking lavishly.” He lets

out a burst of hyena-like laughter. “I can buy my own goddamn private

island after the money goes through!”

A shot of anger pumps into me at the man’s callous words, speaking of

me like I’m a house up for sale.

“Your idea of comfort must be different from mine. We'll have to go into

hiding alongside her. At least while Z is still alive,” the second man—Rio—

responds. His name sounds familiar, and I think I faintly remember

someone yelling his name after they ran me off the road.

“Don’t worry, man. We’ll get a head start with the ritual happening

tonight, and I’m sure the Society will take out Z, one way or another.

They’ll protect us.”

A derisive snort is the only response the first man gets.

Jesus Christ, I really am in deep trouble. Tears brim the corners of my

eyes, and try as I might, no amount of trash talking keeps them from

overflowing like rivers past the blindfold.

I barely manage to wrangle down the sob that’s still threatening to spill,

clawing its way up to the inside of my teeth.

Deep breaths, Addie. What did Zade teach you?

It takes several moments to collect my thoughts, but eventually, his voice

filters in.

Leave evidence.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I slowly grip stands of my hair and

tug until they break free. The sharp pinpricks are inconsequential compared

to the rest of my body.

I keep my movements minimal and slow. With the blindfold on, I’ve no

idea if they can see me well. One movement out of the corner of their eye

can alert them.

I wiggle my fingers until the strands loosen and fall away.

Just as I’m reaching for more hair, they hit a particular brutal bump in

the road, and I can’t keep the yelp from slipping free.

The pair hadn’t been talking at that moment, but it felt like a crowded

room just went deathly silent in a matter of seconds.

“Welcome to the land of the living, sweetheart,” one of the men croons.

It’s the first guy who had referred to me as a diamond.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, my voice raspy and hoarse.

“To your new home—well, temporary home,” he corrects. “Whoever

pays the most will provide you with your forever home.” He chuckles as if

I’m a dog about to be adopted into a loving family.

“Great,” I croak. “Sounds like I’ve hit the jackpot.”

One of them laughs humorlessly, but it sounds like Rio this time. “Hold

on tight to that humor, baby girl. You’re going to need it for where you’re

going.”

Before I can open my mouth to respond, I feel a prick in my arm,

followed by a burning sensation spreading throughout my veins.

I suck in a sharp breath. And it happens to be the last breath I take before

darkness descends.

“Her vitals are unstable, and her blood pressure is dropping. We need to

get her an IV.”

I stir; the unfamiliar voice distorted beneath the ringing in my ears.

Agony blazes in every inch of my body, but it feels like I’m underwater,

fighting to get to the surface yet kicking away from it because I just know

the pain will only intensify. I’m encased in a shroud of fire, flames licking

at my nerve endings, and the closer I get to consciousness, the brighter the

flare.

There’s a tiny prick in my arm, followed by muffled voices coming from

different directions.

“Dislocated shoulder, head trauma, lacerations throughout her body.”

The man’s voice fades out before cutting back in, a harsh shout that travels

up my spine.

“Goddammit, Rio, this isn’t a fucking hospital where I have the

equipment I need. She could have internal bleeding right now, for all I

know.”

“Come on, man, she was fine just a bit ago,” another answers, a note of

concern in his tone. Rio’s companion, I think.

“Fine? I have no way of knowing what kind of damage she took. It’s

evident she hit her head. She could be hemorrhaging and potentially die in

seconds. You gonna find me a CT scanner?” When he’s met with silence, a

muttered, “Thought so,” follows.

Darkness licks at the edge of my consciousness, threatening to drag me

back under. I moan, and probing fingers pry my eyes open. A bright light

flashes in them, but I hardly notice.

“Miss, can you tell me what hurts?”

An older man replaces the light, his face crowding over me. His image is

blurry, but I can make out tufts of gray hair, a bushy mustache, and pale

blue eyes.

I part my lips, but my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

Jesus, what did they inject me with? Whatever it was, it’s making me

disoriented and dizzy.

“I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but I need you to tell me what

hurts.”

Everything. Everything fucking hurts.

“My… shoulder,” I croak out finally. “My head.”

“Anywhere else? Your chest or stomach?”

“Back,” I gasp, remembering once more being dragged out of my car.

My back feels as if it’s been shredded with a cheese grater.

“That all?” he presses.

I nod my head, the incessant questions exhausting. A million other

places hurt, too, but my energy is depleted, and I’m so very tired.

“I’m going to put you under anesthesia and get you fixed up, okay?”

Clarity surfaces over my surroundings, and the man’s facial features

sharpen. Along with another man standing behind him, who’s shifting on

his feet and watching us.

Time to go to sleep, princess.

Dark bottomless eyes and a wicked grin—Rio. He’s the one who had

dragged me out of the car. Flashes of that conversation elude me, but I

know there was more to it. I can’t think past the relentless pounding in my

skull.

Just as my eyes were beginning to focus, my vision blurs once more, and

my eyelids grow heavy. I can’t fight the deep pull to just close my eyes.

I don’t want to fight it. Not when it’ll take me away from the pain.

Addie, baby, I need you to fight for me, okay? I need you to survive until

I get to you.

“How badly is she damaged?”

The question stirs me out of the endless pit I’ve been drifting in, where

only an illusion of Zade’s voice lives. It’s not real—his voice isn’t actually

there. But it feels so real. So soothing, that I fight to stay where I can hear

him.

“How badly do you think? You ran her off the road.”

Alongside the angry response is a swell of dull pain pulsing throughout

my body. I hear a sigh, and then the older man continues.

“She’ll have a few scars along her back from the glass. You’re lucky

they were fairly clean, so the scarring won’t be too terrible.”

“That’ll decrease her value,” a voice mutters, too low to discern who

said it.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re getting paid regardless. The fuck you care

for?”

“Uh, maybe because your dumbass mistake is risking my life? Jesus,

Rio, I knew she was banged up but not this bad.”

Whatever Rio was going to say, it’s cut off by the unfamiliar voice—the

one who must be the doctor.

“She has thirty stitches between the two larger lacerations because she

was dragged across sharp metal and glass. You couldn’t have expected that

not to cause permanent damage,” he says, clearly taking Rio’s companion’s

side.

“Goddammit, Rio. You do realize that might be coming out of my

fucking pocket, right? I asked for your help, not for you to fuck it all up for

me.”

“How the fuck did you expect me to get her out, huh? Lift the car like

I’m fucking Superman and roll it off so I can carry her out like some hero?”

Rio spits.

My chest seizes. The roughness of his tone feels like scratching nails on

a chalkboard. I’ve awoken to that damn voice too many times now. And

each time is a stark reminder that I’ve been pulled down into a nightmare

and haven’t found my way out yet.

“If you hadn’t hit the car so fucking hard, none of this would be

happening, you piece of shit.”

“If you hadn’t been so fucking doped up and screaming in my ear, then

you could’ve been the fucking driver like you were supposed to be.”

“Gentlemen, let’s take a breather. She’s awake. Her blood pressure is

rising.”

My breath stills, but I don’t bother pretending. Slowly, I open my eyes to

see three men surrounding me, staring at me as if I’m a lab rat in an

experiment.

A very fucking horrible experiment.

My eyes clash with a dark pair first. Nearly black and lifeless from the

lack of warmth. Tattoos cover his light brown skin, the laurel leaves on

either side of his throat snagging my attention first. He’s wearing a zippedup

leather jacket, but black ink swirls on his hands and up to each of his

fingers, indicating he’s most likely covered in them. He has sharp angular

features, arched thick brows, along with a scar cutting through the side of

his closely cropped black hair, completing his near-feral appearance. He’d

be attractive if he didn’t look like he’d rather see me dead.

My gaze moves to the man next to him; he’s grungy-looking with scabs

on his face from apparent drug use. A mop of greasy hair covered by a

backward ball cap, a dirty wife-beater, and pants too big. I recognize him as

the other man who kidnapped me.

Finally, I look over to the third man—who I assume to be a doctor. Gray

hair, blue eyes, a bushy mustache, and wrinkles disturbing the otherwise

smooth expression on his face. His stare is softer, matching the tenor in

which he speaks. But something is off about him. A deep, penetrating vibe

that I can’t quite place.

I look away, a cold tremor settling deep in the marrow of my bones. The

dull, throbbing pain is growing sharper but still not nearly as potent

compared to when I awoke in that van. Whatever painkillers they pumped

into my system must be fading, and I’m not above begging for more.

All of my muscles ache so profoundly that I feel as if a hard shell has

molded around my bones. I’m incredibly stiff, and every movement

twinges.

Breathing through the aches, I glance around. I’m in a darkened, white

room. It’s… sterile in here. Not clean like a hospital, which is where I

expected to be, but we’re not in a dungeon, either.

I’m not sure why I even expected that.

Dirty white walls, concrete flooring, and silver cabinets line nearly every

wall in the room. Next to the hospital bed is a large metal table with a bowl

and various instruments laid out on a bloody cloth.

Different sorts of machines are placed throughout the room. While I

don’t recognize most of them, the beeping device next to me monitoring my

vitals is familiar, along with the IV that leads directly into my arm.

The doctor grabs a Styrofoam cup from the table next to my bed and

hands it to me.

“Drink slowly,” he instructs.

Shakily, I grab the cup and sip on it. The cold water feels like dumping

ice on a burn. Painfully relieving.

Scratchy, white blankets cover me up to my waist, and when I look

down, I notice I’m in nothing but a light blue gown.

Somehow, that’s the worst part. They can see the evidence of just how

cold it is in here.

Noticing where my eyes are trained, the doctor speaks up. “I do

apologize for your clothing. I had to cut them off of you so I could properly

treat you and assess the damage you’ve suffered.”

“You can thank Rio for that,” the grungy man mutters under his breath.

Plenty loud enough for me to pick up on through the near-constant fear

steadily swirling in my bloodstream.

“Shut the fuck up, Rick,” Rio snaps back, his accent deepening with

fury. "Or I will kill you myself, and unlike your precious diamond, no one

will miss you."

This… this is a terror unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s nothing

like the fear Zade invoked in me, and definitely not a cheap thrill I get from

haunted houses and scary movies. This is what it feels like when you’re

well and truly fucked.

The monitor betrays my body, the beeping increasing until the doctor

glances at it with concern.

I scarcely remember the events after they sent my car rolling. However, I

do vaguely recall Rio’s face hovering over me after he dragged me out of

the car, his mouth moving but his words evading me. All except six.

Time to go to sleep, princess.

“Where am I?” I whisper and then cough, clearing some of the phlegm

from my throat.

“At the fucking Ritz-Carlton, princess. Where do you think?” Rio snaps,

his features still tight with anger.

Rick looks at him with an accusatory expression on his pock-marked

face, but otherwise, he keeps his mouth shut, clearly taking Rio’s threat

seriously.

It’s obvious Rio fucked up, and there’s a part of me that hopes they kill

him for it.

“My name is Dr. Garrison,” the gray-haired man introduces, deliberately

stepping in front of Rio. Swallowing, I stay silent. If the creep expects me

to give him my name as if we're in a fucking interview, then he can shove

the IV pole up his ass.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, taking a step closer. I bristle, and before

I can tell him precisely what I’m feeling, he powers on, seeming to sense

my incoming smart-ass response. “I imagine a headache. Any nausea?”

I tighten my lips. Probably for the best that he diverted the questioning.

My mouth is only going to get me killed if I let it run wild.

I’m not going to get away with that like I did with Zade—though I’d still

consider ‘getting away with it’ subjective. Even when he first made himself

known and terrified the absolute shit out of me, there was always an odd

sense of security in pushing his buttons, as if deep down, I knew Zade

would never truly hurt me. Something that only makes sense now that he’s

managed to worm his way into my life.

The man is incredibly dangerous… to everyone else but me. Even when

he had a loaded gun pointed in my direction and used it for more than just a

weapon.

But these men? Not only would they hurt me, but they would kill me,

too.

“Nausea,” I clip, my voice still hoarse. Dr. Garrison begins fiddling with

the IV, replacing the empty fluid bag with a new one. I hope it's morphine.

I drain the rest of the water in my cup, yet it does little to acquiesce the

perpetual dryness in my throat. No matter how many times I lick my

chapped lips, there’s never enough moisture.

“You have a pretty nasty concussion. Which means we’ll have to

monitor you closely. I want to ensure you receive no further damage.” He

shoots the pair a nasty look, and I get the feeling this is something they

already argued over.

My mouth moves on autopilot, opening and readying to tell him not to

waste his time—the two other men will ensure that my body endures plenty

of more damage.

Sensing my intent, Rio snips, “I dare you.” His voice is stern and

threatening, drawing my attention to him. “Your pussy will still work

regardless, even if you’ve got brain damage.”

My mouth snaps closed, and I avert my gaze back to Dr. Garrison. His

lips flatten into a white line, seemingly not impressed with Rio’s crude

words.

Keep your mouth shut, Addie. We just went over this, dumbass.

“You’ve experienced extensive trauma, and despite what anyone says—”

he gives Rio a nasty look— “we need you in tip-top shape.”

They need me in shape so that I will be worth something. But I don’t

argue, not when it benefits me. Healing means gaining the energy to flee.

Licking my lips, I ask, “What day is it?”

“You really think that’s important?” Rick barks. “You don’t get to ask

questions.”

I struggle not to mouth back. My lips tremble with the urge to impart

nasty, hateful words to spew past them. But I manage to refrain.

“It’s Thursday,” Dr. Garrison answers anyway, ignoring the filthy look

from the grungy man.

Thursday…

It’s been five days already since the car accident.

Zade would be looking for me by now. Most likely out of his mind and

on a rampage… Jesus, he’s probably going to kill a lot of people. No, he

definitely is. And when a grin begins to form, I know that man has well and

truly corrupted me.

“Something funny?” Rick asks. I squash the grin and shake my head, but

all I can think is that even though I may die, so will all of them. And their

end is going to be so much worse than mine.

As the fantasies take root in all the ways Zade will wreak havoc, my

eyelids begin to grow heavy, and fatigue weighs down the little burst of

adrenaline I was running on.

The three men watch me closely, and even in my concussed, broken

state, I don’t need a scientist to tell me that whatever he drugged me with,

it's not morphine.

My eyes land on Rio, and my lids involuntarily close before I force them

open. His lips quirk up at the sides, dry amusement swirling in those dark

pits.

“Time to go to sleep, princess.”

                                                                                            Chapter 2

The Hunter

It’s not very often that people surprise me.

I expect the worst from everyone, even myself. Especially myself.

But when that voice registers through the fog of agony clouding my

head, all I can feel is astonishment and the cold press of metal in the back of

my skull.

“Glad you could figure that out, Jason Scott. Now let’s see those hands,

otherwise, this single bullet will find its way in both of your fucking heads.”

The exact feeling is reflected on Jay’s face as his features slacken and

eyes widen, his voice saturated with utter bewilderment as he mouths,

“You?”

“Yes. Me.”

Mother… fucker.

My mind races, circulating through each encounter with her and trying to

figure out how the fuck I missed this—missed her being a wolf in sheep’s

clothing.

She played her part pretty fucking well.

“This really hurts my feelings, you know,” I say through clenched teeth,

the muscle in my jaw pulsating.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’ll get over it?”

A man’s tortured scream rings out from someplace to my left, the heavy

smoke concealing him.

A bomb went off somewhere, blasting me back into the stone altar they

used for their sacrificial rituals. I’ve no idea what the fuck kind of damage I

took, but if the increasing pain in my entire body is anything to go by, I

need to get to a hospital.

And I don’t need a fucking fortune teller to inform me that getting help

is not in my near future.

The man-made underground cave we’re in is still swarmed with chaos,

wails of agony and terror bouncing off the stone walls, worsening the

pounding in my skull.

This hellhole is where the Society sacrifices children. Some type of

initiation in order to be welcomed into a club that provides them with an

ample number of innocents to rape and murder.

Leaked videos surfaced on the dark web, the first one being nine months

ago. Since then, I have worked day and night to get into this ritual.

And I finally did.

But evidently, the Society saw me coming and planned for my arrival.

Dan—the man who got me in—had mentioned they caught the culprit

who was leaking the videos.

I was too distracted to realize the trap when another video popped up on

the web afterward. A video that was intentionally uploaded, knowing that

I’d see it and find my way into the club. They were drawing me in so they

could take me out.

“You cost me a little girl, Z,” the bitch says from behind me.

“Sounds like you knew that was a risk,” I counter, a tad breathless. It

hurts to even fucking breathe, and the pain is growing by the second.

The little girl who was offered up to me and three other men on the altar

had been taken out of here, hopefully before the explosion. I entrusted her

safety with one of my men, Michael, and I haven’t heard from him yet.

“Both of you—up. You’re coming with me.”

“I may be a tad fucked up at the moment, but don’t expect me not to kill

you the first chance I get,” I warn, nearly groaning when my back spasms.

Fuck me, more than anything, I wish this shit were like in the movies where

getting blasted by a bomb and proceeding to save the world directly after

was possible.

“You’re not going to do that, Z. You want to know why?”

I freeze, a sinking feeling already forming in the pit of my stomach. It’s

like the mouth of Jaws just opened up, and my heart is the unsuspecting

swimmer about to get swallowed whole. She better not say what the fuck I

think she’s going to say, or I’m going to lose my shit.

My voice is deadly calm as I say, “I swear to everything that is holy, I

will destroy you if you touched my girl.”

Her answering silence speaks volumes, and everything goes black. My

vision snuffs out, and a tsunami of rage crashes through me. I clench my

fists, fighting to regain control of myself.

“Zade.”

Urgency gnashes at my patience, screaming at me to get up and find my

little mouse. I need to get to her now before they take her too far.

“Zade.”

Who knows how far they’ve taken her already? How badly they’ve hurt

her.

My body locks tight from the thought, images flashing through my head

of what they could be doing to her. If they touch her…

“Fuck, ZADE! Look at me, man.”

Jay’s voice finally registers, but I can’t see him. I can’t see anything.

The gun is pressed harder into my head as a warning. I don’t remember

moving, but I’m on my knees now, my spine straight as I stare ahead.

Seeing nothing but a vision of ripping this bitch’s body apart, limb by limb,

with my fucking teeth.

“Stay down,” she hisses from behind me.

“Let me… fuck, he’s going to do something stupid,” Jay rushes out,

voice pitched in panic. Pain explodes on the side of my head from a fist

flying into my temple. My sight comes rushing back in, my right-hand

man’s face appearing, his hazel eyes inches away.

“Get it fucking together,” he barks through gritted teeth. The vein on his

temple pulsates, sweat pouring down his red face.

My hand is wrapped around the barrel that’s firmly digging into my

head, seconds away from pulling it from her grip.

“Let it go,” Jay orders sharply. “You’re lucky you don’t have a goddamn

bullet in your head right now. You can’t kill her yet.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she spits, nudging the gun. Setting my jaw, I

release it and rest my hands on my knees. My muscles are vibrating so hard

—so fast; my body appears to be still. But I can feel every tremor as she

continues, “You may think you’re powerful, but whatever scraps of power

you have are insignificant to mine. I can make you disappear, and no one

will ever have known you existed at all.”

I snarl, on the precipice of demonstrating just how wrong she is, but

keep my teeth glued together for the time being. Jay’s right. She’s holding a

gun to the back of my head and can end my life in a matter of seconds. A

bullet is faster than me, and I have no doubt she would make good on her

threat and kill Jay next.

Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply and bring myself to a scary place I’ve

rarely had to go in my lifetime. Numbness spreads, and tranquility replaces

the white-hot rage. My mind goes silent, and when I reopen my eyes, Jay’s

spine snaps straight.

Whatever he sees unnerves him.

I need to get out of this situation in order to find Addie. Only then, will I

be more than happy to show this cunt exactly what I’m capable of. This

world will fucking smolder, and I will hold her face in the fire and watch

her melt in my wrath.

“Did you take her?” I ask. I know she did, but I need to hear the

confirmation from her mouth anyway.

I feel her hot breath fan across my ear, followed by her soft, mocking

voice. “I did. I took her, and I’m going to sell her only to the ones with the

sickest desires. And you can’t do a thing about it.”

One thing I’ve grown to loathe since forming Z—I have an incredibly

vivid imagination. In this field of work, it’s a curse. Every time I see a new

video posted on the dark web or get intel on a new ring—the first thoughts

that come to mind are all the depraved, sick things being done to these

women and children.

My own mind tortures me with those images. And later, I’ll be plagued

by them, except it’ll be my girl they’re hurting.

But now? I’m fucking glad for it.

Because at this very moment, I am enjoying all of the ways I’m

envisioning how I will kill Claire Seinburg.

“So,” I start, grunting when a particularly painful twinge flares in my

back. “Mark was never your abuser, was he?”

She titters. “Oh, he was. He just didn’t know what it meant for him every

time he laid his hands on me. Idiot never did figure out I was the one

pulling all the strings. He was too stupid.”

She circles Jay and me, the gun still pointed at my head while her red

lips pull into a snarl. The color staining her mouth rivals her hair. Such a

bright red that curls around her face and robed shoulders. During the ritual,

she was the mystery person in the hood, offering me a knife that she knew

damn well I would never use on that little girl. Instead, it went into

another’s throat.

“That’s the best thing about the male species. You all are so far up your

own asses, you never thought it could be a woman in charge. Never

suspected the meek, abused wife because you all assumed I was weak.”

I huff out a dry laugh. “Wrong. I didn’t suspect the abused wife only

because I couldn’t imagine one victim actively victimizing other innocent

women and children.”

She smiles wickedly and bends at the waist, leveling her green eyes with

mine.

“And I can’t imagine a man that puts his life on the line to save these

victims forcing an innocent woman into a relationship.”

She assesses me closely while I stare at her, searching for any emotion. I

only give her one—I tip my head back and laugh.

“Have you been stalking me, Claire?” I ask with mirth, meeting her glare

once more.

Her lips tip up further. “We’re all hypocrites, Z,” she says, ignoring my

taunt and straightening. “The only difference between you and me is that I

chose to profit off of the pathetic men in this world. They’re never going to

stop abusing those they deem weaker. And they’ll never stop raping and

killing them. So, I decided that if that’s the world we're going to live in,

then I’ll be damned if I don’t gain something from it.”

I smooth out my face, only clenching my teeth when the twinge in my

back worsens.

Fuck. I really need a hospital.

But I need Addie more.

“You could do so much good in your position,” Jay fumes, disgust

twisting his features. “You have immense power. And you choose to feed

into the patriarchy rather than changing it.”

She snarls, whipping the gun to him and pressing it into his temple. Jay

stiffens, but he doesn’t cower. My muscles lock, the throbbing pain fading

as I watch her finger dance over the trigger.

If she pulls that trigger… I will crush her throat beneath my boot before

that bullet finishes passing through Jay's brain.

“You’re wrong.” She looks at me. “Let’s say you did destroy all the

rings, Z. Let’s say you accomplished what you’ve set out to do. Do you

honestly believe, for one second, it’ll stay that way? Ha! The second the

dust settles, evil will already be rebuilding their empire, this time stronger

and better than before.” She stares at Jay and me as if we’re delusional.

“You'll never get rid of evil. Never.”

She’s not wrong, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put a massive dent in the

cesspool of rotten souls and create a power vacuum. I’m not under any

delusions that I’ll be able to erase human trafficking in my lifetime

completely. But that was never the fucking point. Saving these girls—these

children—and giving as many of them a second chance at life as I can is the

goddamn point.

My plan has always been to dismantle the government's shady control of

the people and their hand in the skin trade. That alone will make a

significant difference in the world.

It will be an ongoing battle long after I’m gone. The sun will explode,

and the earth will deteriorate before a perfect world ever exists. Humans

will kill themselves off before that can happen.

But Z? Z isn’t going anywhere, even when I’m buried six feet under. I

will raise a generation to take over, and they will do the same.

Claire looks over her shoulder then, and I notice a man approaching with

a deep hood over his head. I can only tell his gender because he’s built like

an upside-down Eiffel Tower. Massive, broad shoulders stretching the robe,

the seams nearly bursting, and then dramatically tapering down into chicken

legs.

Dickhead skipped leg day so often that he can’t even see them anymore

because they’re so skinny.

“Car is ready,” he announces, his voice deeper than the Mariana Trench.

Claire faces me, lowering her gun as the man’s raises, and flicks her

pointer finger up and down.

“Up,” she snaps, her tone sharp. “Now.”

Blowing out a steady breath, I force myself to move, gritting my teeth

from the aches in my body.

Grunting, I stand fully and train my glare on the red-headed snake before

me. She’s brave enough to meet my gaze head-on without an iota of fear.

I’m sure she’s used to men looking down on her, intimidating in nature. But

Claire has never dealt with a man like me.

“What do you think you’re going to do with me?” I challenge, staring at

her with condescension like you would a small child who believes they can

win an arm-wrestling match against you. “I’m a lot to handle, Claire.”

Her lips tip up in a secretive smile, unconcerned as she draws near, a

display to show me how unafraid she is.

“Patrick here will be taking you to our interrogation room. We're going

to ask you some questions.” She pats my cheek, returning the

condescension. “You’ll be useful and give us all the information we need.

How your organization operates and the illegal technology you use, along

with all the intel you’ve collected in your years as a terrorist. And then, I

will make you watch your little girlfriend with her new master before I kill

you myself.”

I stretch my lips into a feral smile, baring my teeth as I lean in and show

her exactly why she should be very fucking afraid.

“Better make sure those ropes are extra tight,” I growl. Her eyes round at

the corners, a hint of fear flashing as quick as lightning. Bitch may be ice

fucking cold, but that doesn’t make her immune to my fire.

“Lead the way,” I encourage, gesturing before me. Claire looks me up

and down, a scowl forming on her face at my superior tone. She’s gotten

used to people sniveling at her feet and bowing to her commands like metal

beneath a torch.

She has yet to learn that I’ve never been just a man.

With a sniff, she turns and walks away, making a point to keep her back

turned as if to prove a point. I’ve never needed to acquire fear in order to

kill, but I don’t mind teaching lessons. Addie can attest to that.

Jay’s stare is searing into the side of my face, a panicked look radiating

from his hazel eyes. He doesn’t need to say the words; his expression says it

all.

We’re going to die.

Not if I have anything to fucking do with it. I have too much to lose

that’s worth far more than my own life.

Her chicken-legged companion, Patrick, allows us to pass before he falls

into step behind us.

“Try not to stare at my ass,” I drawl.

He growls and nudges me forward with a meaty hand, his gun poised in

his other hand threateningly. Slowly, I twist my head to stare at him over

my shoulder, eyes wild and a grin I can’t feel on my face.

“Shut up and walk,” he snaps, but his voice betrays him, wobbling at the

last word. How hard it must be to feign bravery beneath the stare of a

heinous monster with a malicious smile.

The smoke is beginning to thin. Bodies are strewn across the cave, an

ocean of blood soaking into the rock. Following Claire, my foot knocks

against a severed arm, the limb rolling directly into a decapitated head, the

man’s face frozen in terror.

The howls of pain are slowly fading as the mortalities grow, and I can’t

help but marvel at the fact that the Society sacrificed their own people’s

lives just to ensure that I would be caught. That speaks volumes.

Not only am I a threat, I am catastrophic.

Claire leads us to the door that she disappeared out of after handing me

the knife. From the quick sweep of the room, I hadn’t seen any of my own

men, but that doesn’t mean that they’re not mixed in and possibly dead.

My chest tightens, hoping that’s not the case. They understand the risks,

but their deaths would be another responsibility to shoulder.

We follow her down a dimly lit hallway, an exact replica of the one I

entered the cave through. Strips of LED lights line either side, giving off an

ominous glow against the black walls and tiles.

This hallway steeply inclines upward now that we’re coming from

underground. It feels like climbing a mountain with the way my body aches.

Jay walks stiffly beside me, periodically glancing at me with fear and

anxiety. It’s clear that he’s never been in a dangerous situation like this

before. He’s always behind the computer, never on the front lines. I don’t

know how to assure him. I’ve never been one to lie, and while I’m

confident I’ll get us out alive, I can’t guarantee it.

In a matter of minutes, Claire is pushing open the door and leading us

out into a dark alleyway, scarcely lit by the moonlight and a streetlamp at

the end. The sweat gliding down the sides of my face is instantly cooled by

the brittle, Seattle air.

Claire wastes no time leading us toward a nondescript black van waiting

at the mouth of the lane, its tinted windows so dark that you couldn’t see

through it even if your face was smashed against the glass. Incredibly

fucking illegal, but those license plates will prevent them from getting

pulled over. They would only need to see Claire’s name to look the other

way.

The closer we get to the vehicle, the more Jay stiffens.

I lean closer to his ear. “Just think of Claire as your fairy godmother, and

this is the pumpkin carriage that’s going to whisk you away off to your

princess.”

“Or prince,” Jay corrects through gritted teeth. He’s sweating profusely

and his eyes are dilated. “I wouldn’t mind either.”

I shrug. “As long as you still make me Uncle Z.”

He scoffs, peering over at me as if I’m cracked. “You seriously think I’m

going to have kids after seeing this shit every day?”

I shrug a shoulder again, pursing my lips. “Why not? Uncle Z will keep

them safe. I can be their personal bodyguard. They may not like it, but I’ll

fucking do it.”

He shakes his head, the tiniest of smiles tipping up his lips,

understanding precisely what I’m doing.

I’m giving him a future. Painting a picture of him surviving and finding

happiness, whether he decides to breed mini gremlins or not.

As we step off the curb and approach the black van, the back double

doors open wide. Claire turns and nods her head towards the dark interior,

indicating for us to get in.

Shooting her a wink, I make my way into the depths of the van with Jay

close behind, her irritated huff following us in.

If this were anyone else, I’d tell them not to antagonize their kidnapper.

In fact, knowing that Addie is in the same exact situation right now, I’d

spank her ass if I knew she was being reckless. The smartest thing to do is

keep your fucking mouth shut and listen to orders until you find a way out.

But putting Z in the back of a van will never be the same as putting an

innocent civilian in it. For now, I can rely on the fact that they won’t kill

Addie. She’s worth too much. And seeing my situation laid out in front of

me, I am even more confident Claire isn’t going to win this round.

She may be smart, but she wasn’t smart enough to knock my ass out.

That could’ve given her a solid chance.

I sit down on the cold metal bench, gritting my teeth against the pain,

and train my feral gaze on Claire again. She stands right outside the doors,

staring at me with a slight grin. Her tight red curls are glaring beneath the

streetlamp, and for a moment, she appears innocent. She looks like a

woman who has endured years of abuse in all forms and just wants to live a

life in peace.

But the mirage shatters and all I see is a woman who became everything

she hates.

She shoots a loaded look of warning my way, then slams the doors shut,

triggering LED lights rimming either side of the floor to flicker on.

Jay settles on the bench across from me, immediately putting on the

seatbelt attached to the van wall, while Patrick sits next to me. So close that

he is practically sitting in my lap.

My eyes drift to him, a blank expression on my face. “You don’t want to

get in a swordfight with me, Patrick. I promise I’ll win,” I deadpan,

glancing down between his legs.

Jay hisses at me to shut up, but I don’t tear my gaze away from where I

feel his eyes hiding within the deep hood.

"You don't know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?"

“What’d I say?” I ask, feigning innocence. “I thought that was your

intent with the way you’re sitting in my lap."

“It’s going to be hard to get in a swordfight if you have no sword to

speak of,” he retorts, his tone dipped in malice.

I arch a brow, unimpressed with his threat. “Even with a chainsaw, it

takes time to cut through a tree trunk. You’ll be dead before you get that

far.”

“Keep talking,” he snaps, daring me.

I smirk, but keep my mouth shut. If Jay weren’t here, I would continue

to antagonize him. It would be my goal for him to attack me and hopefully

pull a weapon on me. Thus, presenting me with the perfect opportunity to

disarm and kill him instead.

But it’s possible he’d turn the gun on Jay, and I won’t risk his life in

place of my own, so I'll bide my time for now. Patrick is going to die. And

very soon.

The engine rumbles to life, the metal vibrating beneath my ass. The

vehicle surges forward, causing the three of us to sway heavily to the side,

forcing Patrick further against me.

We look at each other, and slowly, he slides a few inches away.

That’s what I fucking thought.

Now that the mouth breather has removed itself from my neck, I can

actually think.

But it only takes seconds for my thoughts to nosedive, the deadened

space I forced my mind into fading away, and that black rage resurfacing.

They took my little mouse.

I squeeze my eyes shut and bow my head, fighting to regain control over

my temper. The fragile layer of resolve containing my anxiety and

murderous rage is cracking. My panicked thoughts are too heavy, and just

like a person standing on thin ice, it’s eventually going to break beneath the

pressure.

But I can’t let it. Not yet.

I need to focus on getting us out, and it’s hard enough with my body

screaming at me.

There’s the option of attacking and killing Patrick, but that won’t stop

the vehicle, especially if they hear me attempting to escape. The only

alternative would be shooting the gun off until I hit the driver, which could

send us careening into traffic and killing us all. Or Jay and I could attempt

to drop and roll out of the back, except my body is too battered to withstand

that.

Exhaling through my nose, I lift my head to find Jay already staring at

me, brows knitted with concern. His black hair is matted to his forehead

with sweat, and he’s shaking like a leaf. He’s definitely not fit for a

mercenary life.

Fuck, that’s it.

Jay’s panic and my agony have made us both forget a very valuable tool.

There are Bluetooth chips still in our ears. They’re tiny and transparent, an

illegal device that isn’t noticeable unless you’re really looking for it. So

unnoticeable, that Claire hadn’t even thought to check.

The device in our ears is activated by a tiny button or a voice command.

But that means Jay or I have to use the word call.

I train my gaze on Patrick. “So, am I going to get my one call when we

get there?”

He grunts. “Funny.”

Silence.

Fuck, it probably got damaged by the explosion. Explains why my men

haven’t attempted to get a hold of me themselves. I cast a look to Jay, and

he nods, a drop of sweat flinging off the tip of his nose.

“Come on, man, my grandma is sick. She’s probably wondering where I

am.” I face Jay again. “Didn’t you promise your brother that you'd take him

to Chuck E. Cheese tonight?”

Jay works to keep his face neutral, but that’s another reason he stays

behind the screen. Kid can’t act worth shit.

“Yeah, uh… I should probably uh, call Baron and tell him I can’t make

it.”

Make it a little more obvious, Jay, dear lord.

Baron isn't actually Jay's brother, but another of my men that could help

us.

A little satisfied smirk tilts Jay’s lips, but he smothers it. The call

must’ve been successful, which means Baron will be listening in and

hopefully track us once he realizes something is wrong.

Jay continues after a few moments, “It’s probably important he knows

that we’re being held hostage, right?”

Oh my God.

“I’d prefer he never know what happened to you and live the rest of his

life wondering,” Patrick retorts, oblivious to Jay’s terrible acting.

Then, he turns to me. “You can keep playing your games, but you won’t

be laughing soon.”

“How soon?” I counter.

I can’t see his face, but I can feel the confusion radiating from the black

hole in his hood.

“My grandma is waiting.”

His fist clenching is my only warning before he sends it soaring into my

cheek.

My head snaps to the side, and pain blooms across my entire skull. The

punch would be tolerable on a typical day, but considering that I just

suffered through an explosion, it feels like another bomb has been let off

inside my head.

My instincts flare, and my fists clench with the need to hit him back. The

beast inside my chest is thrashing and raging, and that precarious control

slips a little more.

Addie. It’s for Addie.

Just barely, I manage to refrain. I need to give our men time to get to us,

though I know it won’t take long.

“Jesus, a man can’t call his fucking grandma? Asshole.”

He shakes out his shoulders and turns away, and I scoot further down the

bench. He can think it’s because I’m scared, but in reality, I’m two seconds

away from ending his life prematurely.

While we wait, I work to decompress, keeping the boiling anger in

check. That lasts a whopping ten minutes before I’m getting thrown for the

second time today.

Something heavy crashes into the van from behind, sending Patrick and

me flying off the bench and into the wall that separates the front from the

back.

Jay is jerked to the side, but the seatbelt keeps the lucky son of a bitch

anchored.

I groan, pain flaring in several different parts of my body as I roll onto

my back and try to breathe. I can’t even tell which parts hurt anymore—

fucking everything hurts.

Claire yells from the front seat, spitting demands at the driver to get the

vehicle under control. The van continues to swerve side-to-side, the driver

unable to regain control.

Another hit and the van lurches to the side and crashes into something

solid. Patrick collides into me, colorful words spilling from my mouth as

we slide towards Jay. My back slams into the wall as we come to a halt, the

behemoth smashed up against me. My ears ring from the impact, and it

takes several seconds to get my eyes to focus. Patrick may be

disproportionate as hell, but he’s still really fucking heavy.

“Jay, tell me it’s who I think it is,” I grit out, taking advantage of the

chaos and wrapping my arm around Patrick’s neck in a steel-tight grip. His

hands fly to my arm, clawing at me as I gradually crush his windpipe. He

struggles, and I clench my jaw as I fight to keep him still.

I’m weak, in an insurmountable amount of pain, and my muscles are

loosening.

“Sure is,” he pants, sweat pouring down his pale face.

“Good,” I mutter before gripping Patrick’s head and snapping it to the

side, breaking his neck and killing him instantly. “That’s for my grandma,

dick.”

“Bro, none of your grandparents are still alive.”

Chapter 3

The Hunter

Claire is screaming from upfront to keep driving, but the engine stalls.

I kick Patrick’s dead body off of me and stand, perspiration coating my

skin. I’m point-two seconds away from passing the fuck out. My body is

beginning to shut down from the physical trauma, but I can’t allow it to just

yet.

Jay quickly unbuckles and stands. “Come on, they’re waiting for us,” he

urges, noting the state of duress I’m in.

“I need to take care of Claire,” I say, but that notion dies the second we

bust open the van doors. Other cars have already stopped on the side of the

road, getting out of their vehicles to check on us.

Fuck.

I can’t kill a woman in front of civilians, no matter how tempted I am.

Just as Jay and I crawl out, Claire emerges from the passenger side, a

wild look on her face.

“Don’t you dare,” she hisses through her teeth. Red lipstick stains them,

giving her a feral look.

“Or what?”

When she has no answer, I shoot her a wink just to get her asshole

clenching from anger, and head towards the huge military-grade van

waiting for me.

“Hey, man, you good?” a passerby asks.

“Yep, all good. Thanks for stopping,” I say over my shoulder. The bright

headlights from his car highlight the incredulous look on his face as he

watches me climb into the open doors.

Michael’s face greets me, and I nearly sigh in relief. If he’s alive, that

means the little girl we saved from the ritual is, too.

He leans forward and helps me in, assumingly noticing the agony

painted on my face. I can feel my scars tightening, now incapable of

concealing the misery. My poker face has cracked.

I’m ready to let Jesus take the wheel. The second I collapse on the

bench, Michael pounds once on the wall, and we take off.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” Jay says, glancing at me with

concern. “A bomb went off, and Zade was within range of the blast.”

“Why the fuck did they set off a bomb?” Michael asks.

“My guess is it was one of the self-destruct bombs, implanted

specifically to destroy all evidence and anyone inside. They’re commonly

in places with top-secret information in case they’re infiltrated or

compromised.”

I grunt. “We’ll have to check in with who was impacted by the explosion

and make sure none of ours were killed.”

Jay nods, and I turn my attention to Michael. “You get the girl out

safely?”

“Yep,” he confirms. “With Ruby, and on her way to get treatment.”

I nod, some of the pressure easing off my shoulders, but not nearly

enough. It’s like the Empire State Building is resting on them, and only a

penny fell off.

They still have Addie, and the rage is steadily churning beneath the

surface. I’m going to burn the entire fucking world down until I find her,

and I don’t care who gets burnt.

“Do we know anything about who was involved in her kidnapping?” I

ask, voice tight with fury, clicking off the video on my laptop. I just

finished watching the surveillance footage of Addie’s car crash, caught by

several streetlight cams. Watching her being dragged from her car, knocked

out, then carried into the van has me shaking with rage.

Jay is already working on tracking it through street and security cams,

but it doesn't feel like enough.

I've only been admitted in the hospital for a few hours, and I'm seconds

away from leaving again.

Thankfully, I didn’t suffer any serious damage. My entire back is black

and blue from when I was propelled into the altar, but there wasn’t any

internal bleeding like I had feared.

I got lucky I didn’t break my goddamn back, but I damn near came close

to it.

“Her picture was posted to a forum on the dark web a day before she was

taken. The poster was anonymous, of course, but the ad reads that if anyone

brings Addie in alive, then they’d receive a fucking massive reward.”

“How much?”

But I don’t even need him to answer. I’ve already located the original ad,

which has since been deleted, but nothing is ever truly erased from the

internet. I click the ad, and Addie’s face pops up. Beautiful unusually light

brown eyes, cinnamon hair, and a light dusting of freckles peppering her

nose and cheeks.

My heart clenches at her smiling face—the same picture used as her

author photo outside the bookstore, and the very one that instantly drew me

into her. It still has the same effect on me as it did then.

The price tag is listed right beneath it in bold, red letters.

Twelve million dollars.

Pocket change to those handing it out, but an incredible amount to the

smaller fish in the pond. An amount that someone would have to work hard

to spend in their lifetime.

“Fuck,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers. A

massive migraine is blooming, and restlessness invades my senses. I want

to claw out of my own skin, if only it means Addie will be waiting for me

on the other side.

Jay’s lips are tense. “I know who answered the ad, and who was

responsible for her kidnapping.”

I drop my hand and pin a look to my right-hand man, waiting for him to

drop the proverbial bomb. Dread washes over me, and I have a feeling this

one might actually succeed in killing me.

“Max,” he says quietly.

My eyes close, and my control finally shatters, slipping through my

fingers like sand in an hourglass. It was only a matter of time, and the last

grain has now fallen.

Inky-black darkness corrodes every cell in my body until there is no light

left within me.

Red consumes my vision, and I snap into motion. My laptop is launched

across the hospital room, the loud crash from it slamming through

equipment and into the wall swallowed by the roar ripping from my throat.

I convulse violently from the force of the piercing wail falling past my

lips, so long and sorrowful that it tapers off into a silent scream. Heaving in

a breath again, another thunderous cry explodes out of me as I grab the

bedside table and launch that next.

Without sight, the IV pole follows, whipping it towards a window and

nearly shattering it from the force, the pinch from the needle being torn

from my skin imperceptible.

My hearing goes after that as if I’m underwater and all sound is diluted.

The tide batters into me, drawing me into its clutches and sending me

spiraling down into the black pit of despair at the bottom.

My hands grab at more equipment, all of it crashing to the tile as anguish

tears through my chest.

This is my fault.

All my fucking fault.

Just as I stand, muffled shouting arises, and I feel several sets of hands

grab my body at once and shove me back down. I fight against their hold,

continuing to roar, but my blindness works against me.

Straps circle around my wrists and chest, imprisoning me to the hospital

bed.

But I’m too far gone.

Despite the frantic hands attempting to hold me down beneath the binds,

my legs swing over the bed and I stand, straining against the weight

threatening to take me back down.

“Jesus, Zade!”

My chest heaves and my vision becomes spotty, allowing me only

snippets of my blurred surroundings. Four frightened nurses and Jay

crowding me, eyes wide and faces pale as I stand before them with a nearly

two-hundred-pound bed strapped to my back.

I am…

I am no longer a man—only a beast succumbing to primal instinct. I am

annihilation.

“Sir, please calm down!” one of the nurses pleads shrilly, her green eyes

nearly black with fear. I pant, my chest tight from lack of oxygen and the

strap straining against my chest.

I can’t, I can’t. She’s gone because of me.

How am I supposed to fucking live with that?

I shake my head, my energy depleting steadily. Words evade me and I

stumble, struggling to right myself.

“Unstrap him,” Jay demands sharply, already aiming for the one secured

around my chest. He waits until one of the nurses unclips them from my

hands before he releases the buckle. The bed falls to the ground with a

deafening boom.

Security guards come barreling into the room, skidding across the

cluttered tile when they see the absolute carnage.

Jay gets in my face and shouts, "Quit acting like a fucking lunatic and

get it together! Trashing a hospital isn't going to save her."

My vision clears, and the wreckage becomes apparent.

Shit.

That potent fury is still present, spewing from my pores, but I manage to

keep it in check. Enough that it just steams.

“What the hell…” a security guard says, his young face painted with

utter disbelief.

“He’s okay,” a nurse huffs out. She’s an older woman with short blonde

hair and large wire-rimmed glasses that take up half her face.

She approaches me like one would a crocodile with its mouth wide open,

her hand steady as she grabs my arm and lifts it.

A tiny trail of blood leaks down my arm from where the IV was ripped

out, stemming from a tear in my skin no longer than half an inch.

“That… that is a nasty wound, sir. You better sit down so I can fix you

up before you keel over and die where you stand,” she orders, her voice

stern as she points me towards the skewed bed.

It’s just a scratch, and we both know that, but I sit anyway. I watch her as

she grabs a bandage from a cupboard and begins to blot the blood.

A few of the guards question Jay and one of the nurses while the other

two rush from the room, red and shaking. I can’t manage to feel an ounce of

guilt.

Not when there’s a black hole in my chest where Addie once took up

residence.

“Want to talk about it?” she asks quietly, dabbing up the blood with a

piece of gauze.

“No,” I mutter.

“Well,” she titters, sticking a small Band-Aid on my arm next. It has

dinosaurs on it, and all I can do is stare. If I didn’t feel so empty, I’d laugh

at how pathetic it looks.

“You can either tell me or tell the police. And I know you’re a big, burly

man—you’ve gone out of your way to prove that part—and police officers

probably don’t scare you, but I’d rather you spend the rest of your time in

this hospital not handcuffed to a bed.”

I pause. “I’ll just stand up again and walk out with it.”

She looks up at me, and then a chuckle slips past her pink lips. “That’s

fair. You have your heart broken?”

I raise a brow, and though she has to work to swallow, she doesn’t relent.

I soften my face and sigh. Right now, I appreciate her candor.

“You could say that.” I sniff, rolling my arm to look at the Band-Aid

again. They’re green T-Rexes, mouths open in a roar. I imagine I didn’t

look much different not two minutes ago.

“She was taken. Kidnapped.”

The nurse gasps, quiet and soft, but it feels like a shout when I’m so

hollow.

“It’s my fault. I didn’t…” I trail off, deciding it’s best not to tell her that I

didn’t kill a man who I should’ve, a long time ago. “I need to get her back.”

She blows out a shaky breath and straightens. “I’ll make sure no charges

are pressed so you can save her.” She points to the Band-Aid. “Maybe no

more life-threatening injuries, yeah?”

I grace her with a strained smile, and assure, "I'll pay for the damages."

"That would be appreciated," she says.

I nod and turn my attention to the ground. The white tile blurs as I feel

her presence leave, replaced with Jay's.

“I know where he is,” he murmurs.

I look up at him, murder in my eyes. He tightens his lips, knowing I’m

not going to settle down.

“Let your body heal, man. You’ll be useless otherwise. We’ll get him,

and find where they took her the second you’re not broken anymore. You

may be able to move now, but the next few days are going to hit hard,

especially now that you walked around with a big-ass bed on your back.

Your very injured back, might I add.”

“The longer I wait, the more likely she is to disappear. To suffer and

have unimaginable things happen to her,” I argue through clenched teeth.

The muscle in my jaw is nearly ripping through my flesh from how hard

I’m grinding them.

He bends down and puts his hands on my shoulders, dipping his chin

until he catches my eyes. I glare at him, wanting to go back to not being

able to hear or see anything.

Jay is stupidly brave and doesn’t back down.

“I promise you, man, I will have the team looking for her. I will do

everything in my power to get us closer to her.” The intensity in his words

and stare is easing my anxiety as much as it’s capable, which is

microscopic.

I’ll never be able to relax, to not feel my insides twisting into knots and

the panic gnawing at my heart until there’s nothing left.

I know my body is going to give out on me, but nothing—and I mean,

nothing—is going to keep me from finding her.

Clenching my fists, I nod. I have no plans to stay in this hospital. To stay

still. But arguing right now isn’t going to change anything at the moment.

I need rest. Lots of it. Because the second I open my eyes, I won’t close

them again until Max’s head is in my hands.

“You can’t just bust down the door all willy-nilly, Zade.”

“The fuck I can’t,” I bark, glowering at Jay as he meticulously paints his

nails eggplant purple from the seat next to my hospital bed.

It's the fifth day, and I’m green in the face with anxiety and frustration. I

made five escape attempts within the first two days, but they kept knocking

my ass out with drugs to the point where I completely lost time. I stopped

escaping because I’d rather be semi-useful behind a computer than be dead

to the world and not be doing anything at all.

The only other reason I gave in was that I was physically incapable of

even squeezing my ass cheeks without my vision going black with pain.

I may not have suffered any life-threatening injuries, but my body is sure

acting like it did.

Jay curses softly under his breath when he gets a dot of nail polish on his

skin, poking his tongue out as he carefully wipes the paint off.

My new computer is on my lap, the camera feed showing Max and the

twins, Landon and Luke, lounging in his office, drinking expensive scotch

and probably laughing over the big deposit that just came through to his

bank account.

Twelve million dollars. The price for kidnapping Addie.

“You know he didn’t do it himself,” Jay reminds me, and then holds up

his hands to marvel over his work.

I sigh, the veins in my hands popping as I clench them tight.

“I know,” I seethe.

Max and the twins were at a club when Addie was kidnapped. Which

means he knew where to find her and hired grunt men to do the work. And

that means whoever he hired will most likely be receiving a cut from his

reward. A job like that wouldn't come without a high price, and though Max

has money, he doesn't have that much. Not until today, at least.

Now, we're waiting for him to transfer whatever sum of cash to the

lackeys he promised it to. Then, we’ll be able to trace the money trail and

confirm their identities based on the account information.

If we're lucky, Max is as dumb as he looks and doesn’t hide his tracks

well enough.

Jay will handle that part while I take care of Max.

I could send in another mercenary to torture the information out of him,

but this method will be much faster, and I refuse to let anyone else touch

him except me.

Only I will show Max what pain truly feels like. Even then, he will only

feel a fraction of what I feel without Addie.

I roll my neck, groaning as it cracks. When I look back down, an alert

comes through.

Three million dollars has just been transferred to an offshore account. It

takes me two seconds to find the name attached to it.

Rick Boreman.

Through the camera feed, Max is now setting down his phone and then

cheers, clinking his whiskey glass with the twins.

I look up at Jay, rolling my eyes as he blows softly on his wet

fingernails. He’s going to chip the paint in two seconds with the amount of

typing he does, which is why the colors change every couple of days. He’s a

nail biter, and the polish helps keep that habit at bay, though it’s been

virtually useless these past five days.

As much as he’s trying to play it cool, Addie being gone has him

crippled with anxiety. He’s only seen her through a computer screen, but he

doesn’t need to know her in order to know that she doesn’t deserve this, and

if she were to die… the world would die with her.

For now, I will begin with Max.