I stare at my brother, lost for words. In his eyes, I see the truth, the fear there, the anger…the need. He needs us now, more than ever, and so does she. He’s right, I can’t lose it now, not when we’re so close. I just wish I was with Garrett and D, letting off some steam.

He sucks in a breath, and I know he’s counting because, when it’s over, he seems calmer. I wish I could do that. “Calls are already coming in from people who worked for them years ago begging for peace, giving us anything we want if we don’t kill them. The city knows, and they are turning their backs on them.”

“That’s good.” I nod. “Which safe house though?”

“Garrett checked a lot the other day, they couldn’t have captured it since then, so it has to be one of the ones he didn’t check,” he murmurs, thinking out loud. It’s his turn to pace. He’s lost the jacket and tie and stripped off his shirt. He looks so much like our father it’s scary, apart from the tattoos. Father would never have sullied his body with ink, said it was the mark of the poor. “It has to be, but which one? They would need space, they would need no neighbours.” I let him think, knowing he’s onto something, knowing he will get there.

He always does. He’s the fucking brains. If anyone can solve it, it’s him. I’m trusting him, Roxy is trusting him. All that burden is on his shoulders, but as always, Ryder thrives in it. “Space…space, lots of space. Fuck, of course!” He turns to me, his eyes lit up. “The old hotel. We never go there, and it’s in a rundown neighbourhood with hardly any neighbours. The police never get to that side of town because of the gangs. It’s the perfect fucking spot.”

“Shit,” I whisper. “You’re right, it would be the last place we looked.” Mainly because it was once our father’s, and although we couldn’t bring ourselves to tear it down, it’s well known we all hate it. Ryder wanted to see it rot and destroy itself, and now they’ve taken our girl there.

To the place where this all started.

The place our father died…at our hands.

He stills, no doubt reliving that night. I can feel the memories reaching for me as well, trying to get their claws in my skin. Flashes of blood, Ryder’s pale and panicked face as he tells me to run…

I shake it off, not wanting to go back down that alley. I refuse to live in the past, and what we did, we did to survive. The old man fucking deserved it, and Ryder might live with the burden of being the one who pulled the trigger, but I was the one screaming for him to do it.

And now we’re heading back there.

“Call them back. We hit it at dark. No survivors,” Ryder snarls, before he turns away. I lay my hand on his shoulder.

“There is no room for ghosts tonight, brother. What happened then is in the past and best forgotten. She needs you to be at your very best tonight. Don’t let him win again,” I console, before I pull out my phone and dial Garrett and Diesel.

I know Ryder struggles every day with the sins of his past, with the shit he did to keep me safe. I wish I could take that from him, but I can’t, and that night…that night, he committed the ultimate crime to save his family. To save us.

It’s one of the many reasons I will never leave him, never betray him, never turn away, even when he’s cold. Because underneath that ice is the boy who took the gun from my shaking hands when I was scared, who followed me into our father’s hotel when I planned to kill him…

And pulled the trigger when I couldn’t.

“Anything?” Garrett snarls, as I hear what sounds like a chainsaw in the background.

“Come home, we know where she is,” I tell him, before hanging up.

The Vipers are coiling, ready to strike. Nothing of the Triad will remain after this.

Hold on, darling, we are coming.

Chapter Forty-Eight

ROXY

Motherfucking shit balls.

My head aches, my body hurts, and there is a weird ringing in my ears. My mouth feels fuzzy, and my eyes refuse to open. Where the hell am I? What happened? I rack my brain, searching past the fog clinging to it and ignoring the splintering pain. It’s important, I know it…

Fuck.

The crash.

Shit, they got me…so where am I? My head feels like blood is pooling in it, like when you lie upside down for too long. My ears still ring, but I can hear past that and my slamming heart to the dripping surrounding me—like water slowly hitting tile, again and again. Other than that, all I can hear is the rustle of wind seemingly far away…then silence.

Okay. Calm the fuck down, Rox. First things first, open your fucking eyes and find out where you are. Then we escape and kill these motherfuckers.

I’m going to make those bitches cry for their mommies…just as soon as I can open my eyes.

I don’t let the panic settle in or give it a hold on me, it won’t do anything. This is life or death, and I need to get out of here before they come back. I know it will only mean torture until they are done with me, and then I will end up with a bullet in my head. I refuse to die that way. I’ll die as I lived, with a beer in my hand and riding a dick.

I manage to finally pry my eyes open. They swim with tears, and I have to blink several times to clear them. When I do, I frown in confusion, trying to understand what I’m seeing.

Am I upside down?

My hair is trailing below me, touching the floor and soaking up the blood from a rapidly growing puddle there. The floor is carpeted, a dirty white colour. Lifting my head with an audible groan, I take a look around the rest of the room. The carpet trails to cement farther out into the space, the walls painted an off white. There’s what looks like a boiler to the right, and the rest of the room is almost empty apart from nudie mags taped to the wall in the corner with an old wooden chair angled next to it.

She’s got nice tits.

Shit, focus, Rox.

There is an off, damp smell in the room, and it’s musty like it’s been closed up for a while. I can’t spot any windows anywhere either. Fuck. Lifting my head higher, my back straining, I glance up at the ceiling to see I am, in fact, chained to it, dangling there like fucking meat in a butcher’s shop. I twist my hands, which are tied behind me, and notice my lips are sore like they were duct taped. The fuckers.

No wonder my head is rushing, all the blood is draining to it, and I’m starting to feel lightheaded. My body is weak, and I have no choice but to drop my head down, forcing my frame to swing precariously. I swear if I fall right now, I’m going to be pissed, but the chain holds even as it creaks.

Okay, so I’m tied upside down…ideas? Ugh, my brain hurts. Then I remember the knife I had at my spine. I strain my hands, trying to feel if it’s there, my shoulders aching with the movement, but it’s gone. They took it. Okay, so no weapons either. I could keep swinging, try and break the beam I’m hanging from. The only issue is I might crack my head on the floor or the ceiling might come down, which doesn’t seem like a good idea.

I’m betting by now the guys know I’m gone. They will be pissed, and Diesel will be infuriated, but I can’t wait for them to come save me. I need to get my own ass out of here. Then I hear boots coming my way. My breathing picks up, my heart racing as I swallow back my bile.