Property of Fox (Mayhem Makers: Bastard Boilers MC)

23. Brea

brEA

Five minutes after Keira’s call, Fox and I are dressed and on the road towards my place. I try to call her over and over again, but she doesn’t pick it. It goes straight to voicemail.

“Try her again,” Fox declares. His eyes on the road as he smashes the gas pedal harder.

"Come on," I mutter again, desperately pressing Keira’s number into my phone's screen yet another time. “Pick up, Keira!” The phone cuts to voicemail.

The engine roars beneath us, and I clutch my phone so tightly that my knuckles turn white. Each unanswered ring reverberates through me, echoing not just with worry but also with guilt. “This is all my fault,” I mumble to myself as if repeating it could somehow change what’s happening.

Fox glances over briefly before refocusing on the road ahead.

“Stop saying that.” Fox's voice cuts through the storm brewing inside me. “It’s not your fault.”

If he only knew how false that statement truly is. Guilt eats at me with each mile closer we get to the house. Has Tank found us? We have been so careful.

The streetlights flicker as we round the corner toward my place, and I can’t shake the dread that clings to me like a second skin. The old house looms in the distance. Fox doesn’t slow down. He barrels up the driveway, tires screeching against gravel.

“Stay in the truck,” he orders me. “Move into the driver’s seat and keep the engine running. If I don’t come out, leave and go straight to the cops. Do not stop for anything.”

“Fuck that, I’m not staying here.”

“Brea, we don’t know who or how many people are in the house. I can’t protect you and get to Keira by myself. Please, just fucking listen to me.”

I swallow hard, my throat tight. The intensity of Fox’s gaze pinning me in place. It’s not that I doubt him. It’s just that I can’t imagine sitting idly by while Keira’s in danger. Danger that may have followed me here to Dallas.

“Stay in the fucking truck, baby,” he orders me one more time before walking away. I watch, as he moves towards the front porch until he disappears inside. I stare at the doorway, my heart thudding loudly in my chest like a war drum. Time feels warped. Every second counts, and yet each moment crawls by with a sinister slowness. Anxiety prickles down my spine. It's too quiet now—too still. With every minute passing without any sign of Fox returning or Keira, I feel an insatiable cyclone of worry starting to tear me apart from within. If I lose both of them, I don’t know how I will survive.

Suddenly, crashing glass shatters that deafening silence. A violent eruption echoing out the house before landing against me with icy fingers gripping tight around those nagging thoughts. Without thinking, instinct claws wildly at reason until I’m thrown into motion and I'm out of the truck before even registering I've moved.

My feet and heart pounding in sync on the gravel, driving me up onto that porch. The front door hangs ajar. My mind races as I step through, throwing a glance around for any sign of my friend. All that greets me is chaos—the whirlwind of shattered glass and scattered chairs.

Then I spot them. Fox in the midst of a fierce fight with a man whose face is twisted with fury. The crackling energy animating their movements sends shockwaves straight through me. Adrenaline surges as I instinctively reach for the first thing I see, a rusted iron lamp lying on the floor. My grip tightens around the cold metal. Fox is dodging punches, his tattoos rippling across his arms with each powerful movement.

“Get off him!” I scream.

The man turns for just a second, eyes narrowing as he catches sight of me. That split second is all I need. With every ounce of strength I can summon, I swing the lamp hard against his back with a sickening thud. He stumbles forward, caught off-guard. Fox takes advantage of the distraction, turning and delivering a brutal punch that sends the guy crashing into a nearby table.

“Get out of here!” Fox shouts. The man spots me, and shifts his focus, charging for me. Fox reaches out for him. His arm snaking around his throat, drawing him backwards. “Get back in the fucking truck, Brea.”

My pulse races, a frantic thunder in my ears as I see the rage consume this stranger. He breaks free of Fox’s grasp and charges towards me with desperation that makes bile rise in my throat. Fear is an animal clawing at the walls of my chest, how can he want to hurt us? Before I know it, his hands are wrapping around me, clammy fingers digging into me.

“Get off her!” Fox bellows again with everything he has left. His voice drowning out reason.

The impact rattles through me even from where I'm standing, frozen by shock and disbelief. The tussle on the floor, the man pinning Fox down on his back. They exchange blow after devastating blow. Beside them on the floor, something metal glints under the dim light. A long-bladed knife with blood staining its edge.

“Fox!” My voice breaks free once more from somewhere deep inside me. “There’s a knife next to you!”

Fox’s eyes dart in my direction. In that split second, everything slows down. He locks his gaze on the knife, then back at me, the urgency palpable in the air between us.

“Get it!” he bellows, jaw clenched, his body straining against the mass of his assailant.

My instincts scream at me to move, but my feet feel like lead. Panic surges through me as I watch Fox struggle beneath the man, every second feeling like an eternity. I force myself to take a step forward, heart pounding in rhythm with my frantic thoughts. The knife glistens tantalizingly close if I can just reach it…

The man leans down, fists poised to rain more punishment on Fox’s face. The desperation in his eyes ignites a primal fear within me—he's not just fighting. He's trying to end this. My breath catches as I lunge for the knife, fingers closing around its cool handle.

“Brea! Now!” Fox’s voice is strained but fierce. It pulls me from my haze.

I surge forward, adrenaline thrumming through my veins as I raise the knife high and I come crashing down with all I’ve got. The blade meets its target, his neck. With a guttural yell, he recoils away from Fox just as I pull back the knife, crimson staining the metal and shock floods his features. His gaze locks onto mine, a mirror of disbelief and rage.

“You fucking bitch!” he roars as he holds his neck, blood spurting through his fingers.

Fox seizes the moment, pushing the man off him and springing to his feet in one fluid motion. A dangerous gleam develops in his eyes as he stares down the wounded man, waiting for an opportunity to strike again. I stand frozen with the knife in my hand, blood dripping from the edge, watching as confusion morphs into desperation on the stranger's face.

“Get behind me, Brea!” he snarls, positioning himself like a lion ready to protect its territory. His presence shields me, but with the adrenaline still coursing through me, I’m acutely aware of my own smallness at this moment.

The man begins to sway, blood oozing between his fingers as he glares at Fox with pure venom. “You think you can protect her from us?”

“You’re not getting anywhere near her again,” Fox snarls through gritted teeth.

“You can’t save her from what’s coming. From who is coming,” the man sputters, blood dotting his lips. “Not from him.” His words slurring with each ragged breath he breathes. He shifts forward, only to collapse. His breathes more and more labored until they stop all together. I can't process it at first. My hands tremble as I stare at the bloody knife, a grotesque trophy from an act that feels like it could fracture my very soul. Did I really just kill someone? The realization washes over me in icy waves. He's not breathing—his body sagging lifelessly to the floor, eyes wide yet vacant. He’s dead. I killed him. I took a life.

Fox spins around, fury still shrouding his face but with a gentleness that pierces through the mess surrounding us. “Brea,” he says and steps towards me with arms extended like a shield against reality. “It’s okay, baby. It’ll be okay.”

“I killed him,” I stammer, throwing the bloody knife onto the ground next to him. “I killed him.”

“You can’t think about that right now, firefly. We need to find Keira and get you both out of here.”

Keira. Oh god. What if she’s dead, too?

“Stay behind me,” Fox declares. “We’ll search room by room.”

The air is thick with tension and the metallic scent of blood lingers like a persistent ghost. My breath comes in quick gasps as I nod, trying to gain some semblance of composure. Fox casts a quick glance back at the lifeless body on the floor, his expression a mask of unyielding focus.

I follow him closely, heart pounding in rhythm with our hurried footsteps. Each room we pass feels like an ominous chapter in a horror story, my fear of finding Keira’s lifeless body in it. He clears every room except one. Mine. “Stay close,” he mutters quietly. Fox pushes open the door to my room. The moonlight spills through the window, illuminating a scene that feels eerily calm compared to our frantic atmosphere outside. It’s empty. Keira’s nowhere to be seen.

“Where is she?” I sob.

Fox stills in front of me, craning his neck to the left of us where Keira’s aunts expansive closet lies. “Sssh,” he mutters. “I think I heard something.” Silence falls upon us again, and this time, I hear it too. A soft whimper, barely audible but unmistakably human. My heart leaps into my throat as Fox gestures for me to stay quiet, inching toward the closet. His posture is tense, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to explode into action.

“Keira?” he calls softly, his voice low and steady. The whimper cuts through the silence again, and my blood runs cold. She's in there.

Fox reaches for the closet door. He pulls it open, revealing a dark space cluttered with clothes and shoes.

“Keira!” I whisper urgently as I peer around Fox’s shoulder. The sight that greets us steals my breath. Keira is huddled on the floor, her eyes wide with fear, hands trembling as she clutches a silver necklace—the one I’d given her for her birthday last year.

“Brea,” she cries out, her voice choked with panic as she pushes herself up unsteadily. “I thought—I thought he was going to?—”

“Shh,” Fox hushes, stepping fully into the closet and kneeling before her, “It’s okay now. You’re safe.”

“What happened?” Keira looks between us, confusion mixed with relief in her eyes as she registers the blood on my hands and the distressed look on my face.

“We’ll tell you later,” Fox interjects. “I need to get the two of you out of here and someplace safe.”

“What about?” I stammer. “We can’t just leave him there.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

With resolve hardening in his eyes, Fox doesn’t waste a moment as he motions for Keira to crawl toward him. “Come on, sweetheart. We need to go now.”

The sight of Keira so vulnerable sends another wave of panic crashing through me, but there's something in Fox's demeanor that steadies my fraying nerves. Despite the danger lurking just outside, he exudes an air of fierce determination, the kind I’ve only seen in movies.

“Are you hurt?” he asks as he offers Keira a helping hand up from her hiding spot.

“No,” she admits. “I was in my room trying to get my car keys when he broke in. I didn’t know what to do. I panicked and hid in the closet.”

“You did well, sweetheart,” he commends her. “Brea, baby, can you find her some shoes?”

I look down to Keira’s bare feet. “Right,” I reply, my mind racing as I move toward the scattered piles of clothes. I frantically scan the small space for something that would fit her. My fingers brush against a pair of high-top sneakers wedged awkwardly between a colorful sundress and a dusty winter coat.

“Here!” I hold them up triumphantly to Keira, who nods gratefully as she slides her feet into them.

“Let’s go,” Fox says, glancing back toward the now-closed door. “We need to get out of this house.”

Heart pounding like a drum in my chest, I help Keira steady herself on shaky legs. Fox stands tall and imposing, his gaze fixed on the door, unease etched into every line of his face. “I want you to follow me out to the truck. Keep your heads down. Can you run?” he asks Keira, concern mingling with urgency.

She nods fiercely, determination sparking in those wide eyes that had seemed so lost just moments ago. “I can.”

“Good,” he says, visibly relaxing a fraction. “Everything is going to be okay,” Fox whispers, his voice low as he gestures for us to stick close together once more. “Just follow my lead.”

As we step out of my room and into the hallway, the atmosphere feels suffocating. My heart races louder with every step. Fox leads us cautiously down the hall, each creak of the floor beneath our feet sounding like thunder in the stillness. When we reach the entrance to the kitchen, I force myself to look away. Knowing just feet from us is a dead man.

Fox pauses at the front door, his head shifting from left to right, before he motions for us to follow him. He picks up his pace, waiting for Keira and me to both make it inside the still running truck before he gets in. “Seatbelts,” he declares as he shifts the truck into reverse and guns it.

The truck jolts backward, and I cling to the edge of my seat. My heart races with every squeal of tires on asphalt as Fox expertly navigates the streets away from that house.

Beside me, Keira is a mess. I want nothing more than to reach out for her hand but can’t quite wrap my head around anything beyond pure survival right now.

“Where are you taking us?” she whispers hoarsely.

Fox doesn’t look up from the road ahead but speaks assuredly enough that it softens something tight inside me. “To my hotel for now,” he says firmly.

“And then what?” Keira presses, her voice trembling as she shifts in her seat. I can see the uncertainty etched across her face, mirroring the dread spiraling in my own stomach.

“Then we regroup,” Fox replies, his tone unwavering. “We’ll figure this whole thing out. One step at a time.” A brief flicker of something darker crosses his expression, but he quickly masks it, keeping his focus on the road ahead. The hotel comes into view a few moments later. Fox pulls directly to the lobby entrance. He starts to get out but looks down at his hands, cursing. I took over, seeing what he did. Blood. The same blood that is now drying on my hands.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I can’t take you in like this. If security doesn’t stop me, the front desk will call the police.”

“I have blood on me, too,” I declare, showing him my hand and forearm. “What do I do?”

“Hide your arm the best you can behind Keira. They won’t notice it as much on you as they would on me. You’ll have to go in alone,” he sighs. “As much as I hate the idea, there’s no other choice. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a keycard, before handing it to me. “Go straight up to the room. Speak to no one. As soon as you’re inside, lock the door and text me.”

My heart sinks at the thought of separating from him, even for a moment, but I can’t let the fear win. Instead, I nod, swallowing hard as I tuck the keycard into the palm of my hand.

"What about you?”

“I’m going to go back to the house and take care of our problem.”

“Be careful,” I whisper, the words barely escaping my lips as Keira grips the seat, her wide eyes darting between us.

Fox leans in closer, his voice low and intense. “I promise you, Brea, we’ll be okay. Just do exactly as I say.”

“Okay,” I manage to reply, trying to muster some semblance of confidence. Keira is still trembling beside me, and I glance over at her, offering a reassuring smile that feels fragile at best.

“Ready?” Fox asks, and I nod again, though my stomach churns with uncertainty.

I nod. I reach for the door handle, glancing over at him once more, before slipping outside. Keira follows, closing the door behind us. As we walk into the lobby, I tuck myself tightly to Keira’s side, praying no one sees the blood on my hand and arm. I peer over my shoulder just as we make it inside. Fox is still in his spot, watching us until we round the corner for the elevators. I hit the call button repeatedly until it arrives. Anxiety ravages me until we make it to our floor, and nearly run to his hotel room. I usher Keira inside before locking the door and setting the deadbolt. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I send Fox a text.

We’re inside. Doors locked.

He replies almost instantly.

Do not open it for anyone but me, firefly. I’ll be back as soon as I can.

The silence in the room is deafening, punctuated only by the low hum of the air conditioning. Keira’s eyes dart around, scanning the space as if expecting danger to leap out from under the bed or behind the curtains.

“Brea,” her voice pulls me from my thoughts, trembling with raw emotion. “What are we going to do if he doesn’t come back?”

“Fox will come back,” I reassure her, but uncertainty slithers its way into my heart. “He knows what he’s doing.”

Keira lets out a shaky breath, leaning against the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “I just… I don’t want him to get hurt.” She glances at me, and in that fleeting moment, I see a flicker of fear mirrored in her green eyes—one that I can’t ignore.

“Neither do I,” I say softly, crossing over to her and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be back.”

“Do you think this was Tank?” Keira asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” I lie, knowing well enough that the man who broke into the house wasn’t just a random burglar. The second he saw me, he knew who I was. Recognition was clear as day on his face. He came for me. I guess what they say is true. You can’t run from your past. The only problem is that I’ve managed to drag not only Keira into this but Fox, too. And he has no idea what he’s walking into right now.