Chapter 35
MAX
Islammed my fists into the steering wheel again and again until my knuckles split open. Blood smeared across the leather, the metallic scent filling the car. My breath came in ragged bursts, hot and shallow.
I couldn’t see straight. Couldn’t think. The world narrowed to red.
Grief blurred into fury, and I hit harder, until the wheel rattled like it might tear loose from the column.
This wasn’t anger anymore. It was torture.
I didn’t hear it, not at first.
The screech of the tires beside me.
By the time my head snapped up, it was too late. Glass exploded across my face, shards slicing into my arms as my hands flew up on instinct. Two men in black masks were already there, swinging golf clubs at the car. Metal screamed against metal.
The door was yanked open. Rough hands grabbed me, dragging me out and slamming me onto the pavement. The air shot from my lungs as my shoulder hit the ground.
I shot up to my feet in a blur of rage. My fist collided with the first man’s jaw.
Bone cracked beneath my knuckles. He went down, but the second was faster.
An arm snaked around my chest, yanking me back before slamming me into the side of the truck.
Metal groaned. My skull bounced off the frame, and for a split second, the world went white.
I listened to my heart beating as I regained clarity of the world around me.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.
I tried to push myself up, but I could feel pieces of glass biting into my skin. Blood trickled down my arm, my leg, my side. Every nerve screamed, but my body wouldn’t move.
I opened one eye, and the first thing I noticed was my wedding ring on my left hand. I looked at it intently, as it was my anchor to her, the only thing that could help me stay calm amid this chaos. I was fighting for her.
I could do this.
I wanted to yell for her. I wanted her to hear me. Hear my voice. I wanted her.
I pushed myself up, wobbling on shaky legs as I blinked at the world around me.
Two gas pumps.
A whispering fog curling low over the asphalt.
Glass at my feet.
And then—
A hand seized my wrist.
I tried to twist free, but I was too slow.
I felt the needle in my neck before I could react. Fire spread under my skin. The parking lot spun, colors bleeding together. The masked men blurred into silhouettes. Through the static roaring in my ears, a voice slipped closed.
“Congratulations, Mr. McKinnon,” it murmured. “It’s initiation day.”
Darkness swallowed me, and I went down.
My head was fucking pounding, like a hangover and a concussion had joined forces behind my eyes.
Everything hurt—the back of my neck, my jaw, even my teeth.
I blinked slowly, as light flickered against the metal surfaces. The air smelled strongly of gasoline, rubber, and a sterile scent reminiscent of bleach and latex gloves.
My wrists were restrained with zip ties, the plastic cutting into my skin as I moved. My mouth was parched, coppery with blood. My temple was sticky.
I tried to sit up, only to realize I couldn’t. My ankles were zip-tied as well. I was on the floor of a moving cargo van, the lack of seats and rattling steel walls giving it away.
What. The. Fuck.
I dragged myself across the floor, clawing for the wall until my fingers found cold metal. Pain tore through me as I forced my body upright, a raw scream ripping from my throat. Shards of glass jutted from my hands, arms, and legs, blood sliding down in slow, sticky streaks.
I pressed my back to the wall, fighting to steady my breath.
This wasn’t random.
This was calculated retribution because of her.
Mackenzie.
Maybe she hadn’t really left me. Maybe they had taken her, too. The thought of it made my fists clench until the zip ties cut in deeper.
A voice crackled from the front seat, muffled and faint. I couldn’t catch the words. Suddenly, the van slowed, swerved, and hit a gravel road. I was thrown forward by the sudden movement.
They were taking me somewhere remote, off the grid. To do what? Kill me?
A shiver ran down my spine as a disturbing thought surfaced: had they already killed Mackenzie?
The van suddenly lurched to a stop, and I fell forward, hitting my chin on the floor. Pain sliced through my brain, and a shrill ringing filled my ears, like someone had jammed a live wire into my skull.
The engine from the van cut out, replaced by an unsettling silence. A loud clang sounded as the back doors swung open, letting cold, fresh night air flood inside.
I peered through the gap. The sky was filled with stars, and in the distance, the tall pines rose up in that shape I knew too well.
Camp Blackshear.
I was back.
A low buzzing from above made me flinch.
“Max McKinnon,” a woman’s voice crackled through the speakers, clear and Australian. “Welcome to your initiation."
I froze.
A masked man dressed in black stepped forward to free me from my restraints.
“Stand up, straight, please,” the unknown woman said through the speakers. “I want to see you.”
I felt like a prized cow about to be exhibited.
I saw a shadow just beyond the van’s light, but I couldn’t make out a face. I stood, wincing from the pain everywhere, but straightened my shoulders as much as I could to look strong.
“Very good,” she said. “You’ll do nicely.”
“For what?” My voice was shaky. I hated that she could hear my fear.
Pain lanced through my body, every movement sending sparks of agony up my spine. My mind struggled to focus on what was happening.
“We have an outfit for you. Put it on,” she said.
I turned and nearly laughed. The masked man was holding out a black, tactical FBI vest, thick and padded, with a matching mask that would completely hide my face. It was a matte black skull mask with mirrored eyes. Military issue, cool as hell, but I wasn’t going to admit that to them.
Gloves, boots, and a utility belt completed the ensemble.
“Really?” I said, sarcastically.
“Put it on, Mr. McKinnon,” the voice commanded.
“Fuck no.” I crossed my arms and pressed my back against the cold metal of the cargo van.
A sharp BANG shattered the air as a gunshot tore into the ceiling above me. My heart slammed against my ribs, every nerve screaming.
“Put it on, Mr. McKinnon. This is an order.”
I snatched the clothes from the man, every nerve on fire.
“Fine. Fuck, fine.” My hands shook violently as I peeled off my shirt, then my shorts, the cold metal of the van biting at my bloody skin.
“I can see why Mackenzie chose you,” the voice hissed through the speakers, satisfaction laced with malice.
“Close your greedy fucking eyes, you bitch,” I growled, voice low, teeth clenched. “I’m married.”
I dug my fingers into my skin, pulling out the jagged shards embedded in my arms. I winced as each piece tore through tender flesh. Blood welled and slicked my skin, dripping down in thin rivulets.
One by one, I worked the shards free from my legs, gritting my teeth as each pull sent fire through my muscles.
Then I felt it, a long, cruel piece buried deep in my side. My stomach clenched as I felt the sharp stab of pain that stole my breath. I yanked the glass shard out, the world tilting as crimson stained my hands, slick and sticky, a stark contrast against the cold metal floor beneath me.
Every movement made the blood run faster, every heartbeat a reminder of how raw and fragile my body had become.
“Where is she?” I snarled, yanking the clothes from the man’s hands. The fabric felt heavy, alien in my hands, and my chest hammered so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
I shoved my arms into the long-sleeved black shirt, then jammed them into the vest. The straps dug into my skin. I slammed the velcro shut and fixed the masked man with a glare I hoped could pierce through the hollow mask he wore.
“I said, where the fuck is my wife?”
I swore I could see the curl of a smile beneath the cotton, but a ticking sound, like a clock counting down, snapped my focus away.
“Your time is almost here, Mr. McKinnon,” the voice said, smooth and detached. “You’d better get moving.”
I huffed out a breath of frustration but kept going, swaying a bit from the amount of blood I was now losing.
I put on the black cargo pants, then the mask. It slipped over my face, feeling hot and suffocating, pressing against my jaw. The eyes of the mask slightly fogged from my breath. My visibility was almost zero. I could only perceive muffled sounds and faint shadows.
How many eyes were on me right now?
The air felt too still, too intentional.
There had to be cameras, hidden somewhere in the corners, maybe even behind the vents. Knowing how the Alliance operated, this wasn’t just an initiation. It was entertainment.
I could almost feel them. Men in tailored suits, watching from the dark, placing bets on me like I was a horse in their private race.
How far until he breaks? They were saying.
How much pain before he taps out?
They were betting on me. For what? To prove I deserved Mackenzie?
She doesn’t even want you, my brain sneered.
She left you.
I hammered the top of my skull with my knuckles until the van echoed with dull, hollow thuds. The masked man tilted his head, watching me. Maybe I was losing it. Maybe a little. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.
The minute I slipped on that mask, something changed. I wasn’t Max anymore. I was a different animal: a psycho, a killer. Exactly what they wanted me to be.
“Good,” the woman’s voice purred through the speakers, amused and predatory. “You’ll look perfect for the task.”
I flexed, testing the vest. The ring under my gloves was a tiny, hot reminder of Mackenzie. Of what we had been just hours before.
Did she still wear hers? Was she even alive?
A single tear tracked down my cheek, and I almost let myself break. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want whatever came next. I only wanted my wife.