Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“SORRY” BY HALSEY
LARK
Friday rolls around all too soon, and I wake up with a headache and an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’m sure the guys notice, especially when I can’t eat much all day. They keep giving me furtive glances, pulling me close and whispering that everything will be okay after tonight.
How wrong they are. Nothing will be okay after tonight.
We’re silent as we get ready, wearing all black. Knox left several hours ago, to take up point and watch the courtyard where we will make our entrance. I try to quell my racing heart as I pull on my long-sleeved black shirt and leggings, slipping my feet into black combat boots.
“Here, Aziz-e delam,” Tarl says, his voice soft as he holds out a small knife encased in a leather thigh sheath.
“T–thank you,” I reply, my mouth dry and the words hurting as they leave my throat.
“Allow me.” He drops to his knees, holding my gaze.
He turns his stare to my leg, taking the leather straps and wrapping them around my leg, doing the buckles up tightly.
“Whatever happens tonight, it’ll be okay.
” His voice is low, a whisper for only me to hear, and my entire body stills, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. Does he know?
I meet his mismatched stare, and his gaze is intense, like he’s trying to delve into my very soul. I’m reminded that he’s the Tailors’ top man for gathering intel. That they call him the Inquisitor.
“O–okay,” I whisper back, and we keep eye contact as he stands, so close that our chests brush. His hand reaches up, his dry, warm palm cupping my cheek as he leans in. My eyes close when I feel his lips hover over mine.
“I forgive you.”
I can’t react when he presses a soft kiss to my lips, my breaths ragged as chills sweep over my body. When I open my eyes he’s gone, nothing but cold air where he once was.
“Are you ready, Dove?” Aeron asks, coming to stand where Tarl was moments ago. “What’s wrong? You can stay here, it’s not too late to back out.”
“N–no, I was just…” My mind is racing, and I can’t stop blinking, trying desperately to figure out why Tarl wouldn’t say anything if he knows what my plan is.
“Just?” Aeron questions, leaning down to catch my eye. His hand cups the same cheek Tarl just did, and the warmth of his palm is enough to break me out of my frozen state.
“W–won’t the cops stop us? We’ve a lot of weapons on show,” I worry, my mind latching on something, anything to steer him away from my swirling thoughts. Do the others know?
“Not tonight, Dove. There aren’t any patrols in the east side of the city tonight,” he tells me, his face a blank mask but I can read between the lines.
Whetstone PD is in the pocket of the Tailors, another reason for my father to hate them, but it doesn’t mean that we can walk around with exposed weapons without fear of being arrested.
“Good to know.” I take a deep inhale. “Are we ready to go?”
“Yes. As long as you are?” His brows raise, his face softening. I know that he’d rather I stay here, but he’s also a good leader and knows that I have the best chance of getting them into the building and to my father.
“Then let’s go kick some Soldier ass,” I say, trying to lift my lips into a grin. It feels forced, and I know he notices because his forehead creases.
“Hells yeah!” Jude cries out, breaking the moment by grabbing me out of Aeron’s hold and spinning me around. “Let’s paint the east side red!”
A sour taste fills the back of my throat.
I can only hope that it’s not the blood of my men that coats the east side tonight, and I have to blink away the moisture that fills my eyes at the thought of any of them getting hurt.
The plan is not for them to be harmed, they’re leverage, but Rufus has never been a man of his word.
We meet the other three Tailors outside of Danny’s Diner, the restaurant dark inside as it’s closed for the night.
Ironically, it’s the place where my mother was shot by Aeron a decade ago and a fissure of pain freezes me for a moment as the memories try to rush in.
I was worrying so much at the conference the other morning that I didn't realize this was the place we were meeting. I guess it’s only fitting that my betrayal should start here.
A homeless man walks towards us, and I stiffen, blinking out of my impending panic until he pulls his large ragged coat off and Nick’s face emerges.
“Report,” Aeron commands in a low voice as Nick, the average Tailor, comes closer to us.
“I counted thirty Soldiers going down that alley, none coming out,” Nick tells us, swiping grime off his face with a wet wipe he produces from a pocket.
“And Rufus?” Aeron demands, his voice hard as granite.
A chill sweeps through me, making me shiver, and Jude wraps an arm around me, pulling me into his body.
I try not to sink into him, try to resist the warmth, but it’s like I have no control over my body anymore, and I do it anyway.
Perhaps my body knows that I won’t have many more chances after this.
“He’s there. As well as his second and the boy,” Nick tells him. I straighten, going rigid in Jude’s arms.
“Hush, Nightingale. We’ll get him out,” Jude whispers against my ear. He places a soft kiss on my hair, and I have to take a few deep breaths to try and calm my pounding heart.
“Good work, Nick,” Aeron nods, and I see the man stand a little taller at the praise. Aeron really will make a great leader one day.
If he gets that far.
I shut that bitch down, refusing to believe that I’m leading them to their deaths. It won’t come to that.
The cold of the bright fall night surrounds us as we make our way to the back of the laundromat, all the guys looking around for any threats, any sign that we’ve been spotted. I know that even if we have, the Soldiers won’t stop us. That’s not the plan, after all.
A breath rushes out of me as we reach the broken fence that surrounds the courtyard, and Knox breaks away from the shadows. He jogs towards us, and when he stops, I can’t help but wrap my arms around him and pull him close, my fingers cold from more than just the frigid air.
“Hey, Little Bird. Miss me?” His voice is teasing as he hugs me back, but he brings me closer anyway.
“Always,” I say, my voice rasping and his arms tighten around me.
“I’m here now, love. No need to worry,” he replies, his own voice soft. I hear a scoff behind me that sounds a lot like that cunt, Earl, but I ignore it, closing my eyes and breathing in Knox’s leather, motor oil, and clove scent. God, the weight in my fucking chest is threatening to cave it in.
“Anything?” Aeron asks, his voice tight.
“Nope. Quiet as a nun’s back door,” Knox replies, and I cringe, pulling away.
“That’s a visual I didn’t need,” I tell him, stepping back but he grabs my hand.
“But it made you smile so it was worth it.” He pulls me back for a quick kiss before releasing me. My lips burn with the kiss, and I just want to pull him back to me and hide from what’s about to happen.
“Let’s go,” Aeron commands, and we all follow as he goes through the hole in the metal fence. “Dove, where’s the manhole?”
Letting go of Knox’s hand, I look around the barren space, spotting the dark patch of the broken manhole cover and walking over. I bend down, reaching out with trembling hands to pull it off.
“Allow me,” Tarl offers for the second time tonight, and I pause, staring into the side of his beautiful face highlighted in the moonlight, as if that will tell me all that he knows.
As if that might tell me why he hasn’t said anything to the others.
He grabs hold of the edges, and in a swift yet nearly silent move, he pulls the cover off, placing it gently down next to it.
“I should go first, make sure no one is there,” I whisper, and turn to see my guys frozen with clenched jaws. “It makes the most fucking sense, Aeron, and you know it.”
“Fine,” he grits out, his jaw tight. “But if you don’t give the all-clear in two minutes, I’m coming after you.”
“That defeats the whole point, asshole,” I grumble under my breath, Tarl’s low chuckle reaching me as I lower myself into the dark manhole and find my first foothold.
Muscle memory takes over, my hands and feet finding purchase easily as I make my way down the short, pitch-black passage. This is the worst part, being enclosed in the dark, hands covered in old coal dust, but it’s not long before I’m jumping down quietly onto the ground.
Glancing around, I see that it’s pretty much the same as I left it, just with a few less packages of all the drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes that the Soldiers trade in. There’s just the light from the coal chute, barely letting the moon cast its glow over the crates and packets.
Taking a final, shaking breath, I lean up into the chute and coo like a fucking Dove. Jude’s idea of a joke.
The sound of the others coming down the tunnel fills the silent space, the rasp of their clothing against the sides as they make their way down seeming loud.
I step back so the falling coat of dust doesn’t get into my eyes, and soon dark figures are jumping down into the room until it’s full of the Tailors.
My chest tingles as Aeron is the first to land, immediately coming over to me and pulling me to him. God, I feel like such a fucking asshole for leaning into him, taking the comfort that he’s offering even though I don’t deserve it.
“All clear, Dove?” he breathes against my ear, his voice barely a whisper. I give a sharp nod, not trusting my voice.
Taking his hand, I step toward the door and then kneel down, releasing him so I can pull out some lock-picking tools that Knox gave me.
With a quiet snick, the lock disengages and I get up again, Aeron leaning close as his fingers trail down my neck.
“Not just a pretty bird,” he murmurs in my ear, and I have to swallow past the lump in my throat.
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I just turn my face and place a soft kiss on his cheek before reaching for the doorknob.
His hand covers mine. “Sorry to break the rules of a gentleman, but I’ll go first. Just in case. ”
Letting go, I step away as he opens the door a crack and peers out and I want to scream at him to run. For all of them to leave, that it’s a trap.
My sperm donor’s threat to my brother flits through my mind, so I don’t say a thing. I keep my fucking traitor mouth shut and let them cautiously walk out, Jude placing me between him and Knox.
“What the fuck?” I hear Knox whisper behind me as we walk through the next room.
“The cages,” I reply softly, my gaze raking over the two cages either side of us.
They’re huge, thick metal bars that run floor to ceiling that make them more like cells than animal cages.
There are doors also made of bars, and I’m not sure if they were always here, or whether my sperm donor put them in, but I know that a stay in them is not pleasant.
My father gave me that education several times throughout my teenage years when I would try to run away.
A shiver makes my skin pebble as we make our way silently past them, their outlines barely visible in the almost pitch-black, but it’s the feeling of despair that rolls off of them in waves that makes the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end.
You know bad things happen here. The kind of things that no one walks away from.
Another locked door is at the end of the narrow walkway, and I go forward to open it, once again standing back when the sound of the lock disengaging fills the silent space.
“You make a good member of the team, Nightingale,” Jude says as I’m passed back to him, and it’s as if a knife is lodged in my gut. Sweat breaks out all over my skin, my breaths coming faster as I watch Aeron open the door, peering through the gap and then opening it wider.
This time he lets Earl go first, then the other Tailors, and finally the rest of us. I can feel the tension, thick like molasses, as we enter the dark space. The main room where I assured them all that the usual Friday night party would be in full swing.
“What the—?” I hear just as I’m ripped from between the guys, a scream tearing from my throat as we’re blinded by the lights suddenly being flung on.
“Boys!” The familiar voice of Rufus Jackson, leader of the Dead Soldiers and my fucking cunt of a father calls. Bile fills the back of my mouth as a knife is pressed against my throat. “Nice of you to join us.”