Chapter Twenty-Nine
Breaker
Rabid waits until we're clear of the cabin — until the horror of Pike's place is behind us and we're deep in the woods — before he stops. He jerks his chin, jaw tight, eyes locked. All business. He leads me away from Viper, away from the site of the horror show we just witnessed and deeper into the dark, as if he needs the full isolation of the Oregon wilds to say what’s coming.
I do as I’m told.
I follow, because I know my place and because my adrenaline is still burning holes in my veins, and I know if I open my mouth right now it’ll be nothing but violence and bile.
My hands are fists and I can't unclench them.
Not to rub my face, not to dig in my pockets for a stick of gum.
Nothing. Pike's photo is burning a hole in my pocket, one corner already creased from how many times I've gripped it, like it’s a trigger I can pull or a map I can follow back to a time before this all went to hell. I want to go back into those woods and keep going until I find him. I want to rip apart every leaf and stone and root to find the bastard and tear him apart, atom by atom, to rid the world of whatever disease he’s carrying.
But Rabid stops beside his truck, crosses his arms, and looks at me with the expression every man in this club fears: you’re about to get your soul turned inside out, and there’s nothing you can do but take it.
The pine needles crunch under his feet, and he leans back against the tailgate, his arms so tense the tattoos on his forearms look like they’re about to rip through his skin.
“You good?” Rabid asks.
“No,” I answer honestly. I don’t sugarcoat it. He’d see through any lie, anyway.
He nods once, like that’s the expected response. “Breaker. We’re putting a shit ton of resources into this Pike situation. And we will keep doing it. But…”
There’s something in his voice that tightens my spine.
“But?” I press.
“We need to alert Officer Alvarado,” he says. “And if we’re gonna dump something this big on her — a serial predator hunting in her town — we owe her the courtesy of showing this club gives a damn about Ironwood Falls.”
I blink. “Okay. So what do you want me to do?”
Rabid's lips twitch, as if he’s suppressing a laugh, but it’s not a friendly one. He inhales, exhaling through his nose in that way that means he’s about to hand down a sentence, and the only question is whether I’ll take it like a man or a child.
“I’m assigning you as errand boy.”
It takes me a second to realize he’s not joking. I stare at him, dumb. “You want me to do what?”
Rabid’s eyes sharpen, dangerous as black ice. His voice goes as cold as a graveyard in winter. “You understand you’re still a prospect, right?”
“Yeah, but…”
“No.” He holds up a hand. “There is no but. You’re new here. New to the Devils. New to this town. And we are going out on a fucking limb for you and your girl. A big one.”
Guilt punches me square in the chest.
He’s right. They didn’t have to take Sparrow in, don’t have to go hunting for Pike. They don’t have to put themselves on the line for either of us.
Rabid steps closer, crowding my space, pointing a thick finger into my sternum. It’s the kind of move a father pulls when he’s trying to drive the lesson home, and for a split second I’m twelve years old again, staring up at my old man, wondering if this is the day he finally breaks my nose.
“If you have an ounce of gratitude in your soul,” he growls, “you’ll shut your damn mouth, ride your bike down to the Ironwood Falls PD, and ask them how you can make yourself useful.”
I grit my teeth. “Yes, sir.”
“You don’t call me sir.”
“Yes, Rabid."
He nods, satisfied, and gives a dismissive wave toward Viper before I can argue further.
“Get in the truck. We’re going back to town.”
I mutter under my breath, but do as I’m told. I can kill a man from two hundred yards, rebuild an engine blindfolded, and take a punch that would kill most people — and yet here I am…
Errand boy.
Perfect.
The ride back to town passes in silence. And my bike ride to Ironwood Falls PD does as well. Officer Maya Alvarado meets me at the front desk as if she’s been expecting me all week.
“Breaker, right?” She looks me over, lips twitching. “So you’re the prospect. You look different from your file photo. I’ll have to update that.”
“Don’t,” I growl, because I have a bad feeling about where this is going.
She just smiles. I’d be tempted to consider it a smirk, except she doesn’t seem the type to do that. “Rabid said you’re here to help.”
I cross my arms, still not sure if this is a setup or a test, or both. “Yep.”
“Good.” She claps her hands together. “Because I’ve got an urgent job that needs doing, and I’m short-staffed. Parade coming up means too many drunk morons with festival money and zero self-control.”
I know the type. Hell, I was the type, once. I narrow my eyes. “What kind of urgent job?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she grabs a ring of keys off the desk, tosses them in the air, and catches them without looking. “We’re late. Come on.”
I plant my feet. “Alvarado, what job?”
She stops. Turns. Gives me a hard stare. “There is no backing out. Don’t make me cuff you. Or worse, call your prez and tell him you were uncooperative.”
I mutter something foul under my breath — something involving Rabid and his lack of warning — but I follow her, anyway. She yanks open the passenger door of her squad car and pushes me inside like I’m under arrest.
“What the hell—?”
“Seatbelt,” she says, sliding into the driver’s seat. “This is serious business. And when you are riding with an officer of the law, you will obey the law.”
Before I can respond, she turns the ignition, and we’re on the road in seconds, the engine gunning like she’s late for a chase. I’m slammed back against the seat as she peels out of the parking lot, blue-and-white lights flashing.
We take a hard left onto Main and I brace my elbow against the window. “You wanna tell me what this is about?”
She doesn’t look at me, just guns it through a yellow light. “Nope.”
I can see the reflection of her eyes in the rearview mirror, sharp and unblinking. For a second, I wonder if this is a trap. But we keep heading into town, toward the shops and the strip mall and that one shitty frozen yogurt place that never has more than two flavors in stock.
We slow at the edge of a parking lot, and I realize with horror where we are.
A craft store. Super-sized. The kind with a pastel sign and windows plastered with decals of happy kids and papier maché animals and construction paper banners fluttering in the breeze.
The parking lot is crawling with minivans, SUVs, and parents in various states of existential defeat.
Out in front of the store there is a cluster of Girl Scouts orbiting a woman in a green vest like she’s the sun and they’re the planets.
My stomach drops. “You’re kidding.”
She throws the car into park, turns to me, and grins wide enough to show teeth. “We’re here.”
“We’re where?”
“Do I need to spell it out for you? This is where you’re working, prospect. The Ironwood Falls Anniversary Parade is tomorrow, and there’s no time for you to screw around.”
The second we exit, the entire swarm of Girl Scouts erupts at the sight. Shrieking in joy, they run towards us.
I stare at Officer Alvarado. “There has to be something else I can do, right?”
She arches an eyebrow, leans in, and makes her voice a low, even threat. “Get to work, or else you’ll find out what happens when I get upset.”
I do as I’m told.
Their troop leader is waving a clipboard and a phone as if she’s conducting air traffic. “Officer Alvarado! Is this your helper?”
I don’t answer. Officer Alvarado does it for me: “He is. He’s all yours.”
A girl no older than eight runs up to me, eyes wide. “You’re him! You’re Mr. Breaker!”
“That is not my name,” I say firmly.
She ignores me and grabs my arm. “Help us!”
“Help you do what…?”
Before I can finish, another girl leaps up and dumps a fistful of glitter on my shoulder.
A third tugs at my sleeve. “We ran out of helpers! They all quit. But we’re so happy you're here. Officer Alvarado said you’d be perfect!”
“Perfect for what?” I demand.
Officer Alvarado leans against her squad car, arms crossed, fighting a smile. “The Girl Scouts need a handyman to finish building their parade float.”
I stare at her.
“And the glitter?”
One girl gasps dramatically. “We need to test our makeup looks, dummy!”
I open my mouth to protest, and that’s when three tiny monsters douse me in a fresh explosion of glitter, screaming with delight. I don’t shut my mouth in time, and learn what sparkles taste like. It isn’t pleasant.
I look at Officer Alvarado with absolute betrayal.
She shrugs. “Hey, Prospect. Welcome to community service.”
Before I can run, or fight, or even process what the hell is happening to my life, a dozen small hands grab me and drag me inside the craft store.