77. Cal Walker
W hen I pulled up to Apex, there was no guard at the gate. In fact, the entire place was quiet.
This whole thing was giving me serious ‘it’s a trap’ vibes, but I didn’t really fucking care.
Maybe I should have been more worried. Pickings were slim in terms of available weapons, though I did swipe a dope Glock 19 from the duffle of guns Vox brought with him. I knew he had a rifle, but I think he’d taken it with him on his daily neighborhood patrol.
I was happy to also find four gorgeous grenades tucked away in his duffle as well. Those went directly into a backpack.
I had needed to temporarily disable the motion detectors Vox had up around Fairview to get out undetected.
No one in that house would have been supportive of my little mission, not even my best friend. However, none of them knew what I was really capable of.
I didn’t need more than a handgun to kill Damian. Not now that Vox had eliminated the threat against my sisters.
Damian had trained me to be a killer. Little did he know, he was creating the instrument of his own fucking demise.
The chain link gate opened as soon as my G-Wagon rolled up, telling me that Damian was watching through the cameras.
Not a surprise. I knew he would be. He was so cocky. He thought he had me completely under control. I was about to show him just how fucking wrong he was.
Pulling up to the imposing concrete structure, I hopped out of the wagon, dragging my backpack full of grenades out with me and slinging it over my shoulders.
No one met me at the front door.
No one searched me.
This, of course, was all intentional. Damian was reminding me of my place again. He didn’t care if I was armed because I belonged to him. He owned me.
When Damian said jump, I asked how fucking high.
That was how it had always been.
‘That’s the way it will always be, Mr. Walker.’
The deeper I crept into Apex, the more aware I was that I was being watched. The cameras turned to follow me as I stalked through the seemingly deserted space, but I paid them no mind.
My boots moved silently as I stalked through the windowless hallways toward Damian’s office. The closer I got, the more tense I became.
The familiar, unforgiving concrete walls and the harsh buzz of the fluorescent lights tapped into the part of my brain that had been molded and conditioned to obey the man I was now determined to kill.
Against my will, my heart rate sped up, and it was suddenly difficult for me to catch my breath. Sweat broke out on my forehead as I came to stand before the door to Damian’s office, and I paused.
I could fucking do this.
The now-healed brand on my chest burned with phantom pain, and I clenched my teeth against it, forcing back the urge to fall back into old habits.
Slipping my hand into the back pocket of my jeans, I pulled out the photo Ryan had given me.
Glancing down at his big toothless grin and the insanely impressive flower sign he was proudly holding up for the camera, breathing became a little easier.
I remembered the rage that had ripped through me when he’d told me the story about those kids hurting him and calling him names.
My chest flooded with an aching throb of remorse.
I should have been there to save him.
Shoving the photo back into my pocket and glaring at the hard, steel door in front of me, I let out one more harsh breath.
If I could help it, Ryan would never be threatened again. Especially not because of me and my fucked up baggage.
This was it.
No going back now.
Without giving myself another second to think, I opened the door.