Chapter 42
LILY
Two days and still no sign of Asher. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I’m completely wracked with worry. The twins haven’t heard from him. Jude even called Asher’s mum, who sounded off her head, high on drugs, and couldn’t get any sense out of her. He’s just… gone.
To say tension is thick in the safe house is an understatement, the twins hardly talking to me, yet worried for their friend regardless of what’s happened.
Barrett is currently out searching the streets, and the twins are asleep in the living room, passed out after gaming for hours.
Me? Well, I’m sitting at the dining table, my leg jigging like it’s having a damn seizure, scrolling through social media, hoping something will pop up. Like, maybe Asher is finally letting loose and enjoying his freedom.
The moment his name pops up on my screen with a text message, I gasp, quickly tapping into it.
ASHER: Sorry my phone went flat, but I’m back at the house charging it. Are you okay?
Tears well in my eyes as a quiet sob escapes me, and I quickly tap out my response.
LILY: I was so worried. I’m okay. Stay there. I’m coming to you.
ASHER: See you soon.
I lurch from my chair, ready to tell the boys, but then think better of it. I’ll just go and get Asher and bring him back to see them. Then, hopefully, we can start repairing my little family.
On Asher’s motorcycle, I speed through the quiet streets of Hedgwick, needing to get home to him. I need to tell him that I love him, too. I need to apologise for being such a chickenshit about us.
Flying into the driveway, I skid as I brake just in time to avoid hitting the garage door before I leap off the bike, tear off the helmet, and dash inside.
“Asher!” I call, slipping past the police tape, rushing through the dark into the living area, where I run my hand over the wall to turn on the light.
The moment the room illuminates, I freeze.
My house… is trashed.
The furniture has been tossed and slashed, the TV smashed, my family photos that were on the wall now in splinters on the floor.
Is this what the police did? It’s hard to believe they’d make such a mess, but maybe they were just thorough, looking for any evidence they could use against me.
Or maybe… this was done by someone else…
Without a second thought, I pull out my gun and dart to the stairs, taking two at a time, skidding to a stop in the doorway of Ronan’s room. Asher’s room.
“Asher,” I whisper into the dark space, wondering where he is.
Flicking on the light, I see the room is tossed too, the mattress slashed, the pictures Asher drew torn and strewn across the floor.
Then, my gaze catches on a piece of paper on the far wall, held in place with a dagger.
Shit.
Blood rushes past my ears as I step over the carnage to get to the note, and then my heart seizes.
IF YOU WANT LOVER BOY TO STAY ALIVE,
COME TO WAREHOUSE 74 ON SUTTON’S LANE
AND TRADE HIS LIFE FOR YOURS.
XOXO
J & S
Shit.
J & S.
The MacKenzie brothers. Julian and Stuart.
I knew they’d seek retribution for bringing their name into the limelight. I just didn’t think it would be like this. Once again, someone I love is suffering because of me.
When will this end?
I realise then that they are probably who has the hit out on me. I had considered that it was them, but since it was the Crimson Angel that poked the bear, I didn’t consider that they knew I was the killer calling them out in a note written in blood.
Taking out my phone, I snap a picture of the note and send it to Barrett, and a moment later my phone vibrates as he calls me.
“Tell me where you are,” he snaps when I answer it.
“I’m at home,” I rush out, bolting from the room and going back downstairs. “But I’m going straight to the warehouse.”
“Like fuck!” he hisses. “Stay the fuck there! Wait for backup!”
I’m already slipping out past the police tape again when I respond.
“There’s no time. They will kill him, Barrett. I can’t let that happen.”
“Fuck, Lily! Would you stop and fucking listen?!”
“No!” I yell into the phone, reaching for the helmet. “I can’t bear to live without him.”
“Fucking hell, woman. He’s probably already dead. Do not fucking go alone!”
I hang up, not wanting to hear him talk of Asher potentially being already dead.
No… Just no!
I break every speed limit, racing across town to the warehouse district. Number seventy-four isn’t far from mine, so I leave the motorcycle there, gathering some extra supplies before making the rest of the trip on foot.
The note said to trade my life for Asher’s, and I would in an instant if I trusted that they’d let him go free. But they won’t. He won’t even make it out of the warehouse before they kill him.
I spend a whole minute watching the exterior of the warehouse before I decide to simply walk through the main entrance.
They probably won’t expect that, and even if they did, they won’t kill me until they get what they want.
Either to torture me or sell me like the other girls they steal off the streets.
With a gun in each hand, I swing the door open, stepping in to find no one watching it.
Idiots.
I make it about ten feet before a thug rounds the corner, too busy on his phone to notice me.
I whistle, and the moment he glances up, I pull the trigger, the silencer doing its job to keep my presence unknown.
I do this another nine times as I weave the passages at the front part of the warehouse before thug number eleven takes me by surprise. He fires at me, the bullet hitting the wall next to me, the sound echoing throughout the building, alerting everyone that I’ve arrived.
“Good one, arsehole,” I snap before I squeeze my trigger and put a bullet between his eyes.
The press of a barrel against the back of my head pulls me up short.
“So you’re the Crimson Angel.” The deep voice is familiar. I’ve heard it before on TV, claiming to care about women’s rights.
“Apparently. Shouldn’t you be scared?” I ask whichever MacKenzie brother is holding the gun to my head, and he laughs.
“You’re nothing but a helicopter mum throwing around your family name.” The barrel shoves me, and I stumble forward. “Drop your weapons, Lily Marx.”
A gun appears around the corner ahead, and MacKenzie brother number two appears, a shit-eating-grin spread across his face.
“Do as he says. You’re outnumbered here.”
I shoot a glare his way before dropping the guns, and in the next instant, I’m slammed face first against the wall as the heavy weight of one of the brothers leans into me.
“This is going to be sooo much fun,” he rasps against my ear before sticking his tongue in.
I flinch, pushing myself off the wall enough to throw my head backwards, slamming it into his nose.
“Ah! Fuck! You bitch!”
As I turn, grabbing for the blade at my side, a fist slams into the side of my face, pain exploding through my head, sending me crashing to the floor.
“Monty!” one of the brothers yells. “Get the fuck in here and search her for weapons.”
I’m dazed, my head spinning from the impact of the fist, but I’m not out of it enough to miss who he called for.
Monty.
Asher’s mum’s side piece. The guy who put Asher in prison.
I should’ve killed him.
Feet pound on the concrete floor before rough hands cop way too many feels as I try to bat them away, and my latex suit is ripped free using a knife before all weapons I had concealed are removed.
Fuck.
In nothing but my black bra and knickers, I glare up at the MacKenzie twins and Monty as their vile eyes roam over my near naked flesh.
“Where’s Asher?” I hiss, and the three of them laugh before one of the MacKenzie brothers answers.
“He’s alive. Just.” He snickers. “You can see your boy when he fights to the death later tonight.”
As his words sink in, I don’t see the hit coming until the last moment before it slams into my skull, sending me into nothing but darkness.
The darkness is kind of nice. Peaceful. I feel weightless here. Like I’m floating. There’s no pain, which is why when a crack appears in the darkness and light starts to beam through, followed by splitting pain, I want to retreat back into the blanket of nothingness.
Then I remember… Asher.
My lids fly open and pain splits through my skull as my stomach rolls. I sit up just in time to heave the little food I consumed earlier today onto the manky concrete floor next to me until nothing is left but the pain in my skull.
Shit.
Trying to press my hand to my head, it pulls up short as a heavy chain weighs it down, my wrist wrapped in a metal cuff with the chain attached.
Fuck.
I track the chain to see it leads to the corner of the room I’m in, bolted to the floor.
Double fuck.
Trying to pry the cuff off my wrists, tears burn my eyes as I realise it’s no use. It requires a key to open the lock, which I could pick if I had something to do it with, but as I glance around the empty room, I realise I’m shit out of luck.
I have no idea how long I’ve been here. It could be minutes, or hours. There are no windows, so I can’t see if it’s night or day. All I can do is sit and wait to see what happens next.
I take stock of my injuries. I’m still a little bruised and tender in places from the church attack, especially from the bullet wounds, but most of the other injuries are healed now.
Okay, so maybe not, but it is what it is.
My head is pounding from those fuckers punching me, but aside from that, I think I’m alright.
Which is good for me, and bad for them should I get my hands on them.
Fuck, I hope I get my hands on them.
I’m locked in the room for hours. I spend some of it sleeping, hoping to build enough energy for whatever is yet to come.
It’s a little cold in here, my bra and knickers doing nothing other than covering up the parts I only want to share with Asher, and my puddle of vomit is stinking up the place.
When the door opens sometime later, I’m relieved and ready for what’s to come.
These fuckers have declared war against me, and I intend on being their worst fucking nightmare if they dare to hurt my man.