Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
Red runs off me in lazy spirals, down to the shower drain where it gurgles away, leaving behind no evidence of what I’ve done.
It’s been a full day since Emma and Bo were taken.
Every single minute of it has felt like more.
More time to picture her and Bo’s face when they realized they weren’t alone in our house.
More space to fill with the insane fucking panic that comes with not being in control of what’s happening to her.
More pain at the idea of what she could be going through.
More and more and more, this livid, psychotic thing that’s growing inside me threatens the normally stoic way I handle a crisis.
Stay calm; I’ve said it a million times.
It’s what I tried to drill into Emma’s head when we were preparing her to protect herself.
Stay calm and you can make it through anything.
But I can't do it. I can’t stay calm, not when the images in my head get more revolting, splintering themselves into all the ways she could be hurt by them.
The guilt that comes with trying to close my eyes, to get some kind of relief from the thoughts, it's impossible. She’s living these situations.
It’s her fucking reality. Torturing myself by not brushing away the intrusive thoughts is all I can do as penance for not being there for her.
For not protecting them like I’d promised I would.
The kill tonight had been enough to take the edge off. One of the pieces of shit men who I knew frequented Bundy’s warehouse. Who our source had told us preferred painful sessions with young girls.
That man was on the receiving end of all my pent up rage, as an offering for all the people he hurt. And how Emma could have been one of them if he’d had the chance.
He’s gone now, in several different pieces six feet under a pine that nobody will ever recognize as a grave.
But on days when I’m feeling extremely vengeful, I’ll be able to go and remember how he’d screamed when I sliced his dick clean off his body before cramming it inside the mouth he begged for mercy with.
I turn off the water and stare at nothing for a moment until the chill sets in, cold drafts unavoidable here in the dead of winter.
He won’t kill her. It’s obvious he believes that as long as he has Emma and Bo, we’ll comply. We’ll leave him be so that he doesn’t take her life. Landon will have filled him in on how attached we’d grown to Emma and Bo and for now, that might be their only safety.
But that doesn’t mean they’ll be treated well, and that’s where his greatest mistake lies.
Bundy is used to using people as leverage against men who are already fucking monsters, so they do his bidding to serve themselves only.
He’s not used to dealing with someone like me, who would scour every inch of the Earth to find her.
I don’t give a fuck about my life if she isn’t here.
So no, I won’t be leaving him alone. I just need the intel on where he might be stashing her.
Dressing, I head downstairs to immerse myself in the constant buzz of men who are in and out of the house.
Some are here while working on their own jobs, but most are here because of Bundy.
This isn’t just about Emma and Bo for them, it’s about Lily.
Most of them have known her, been fond of her.
This group is a family, and our mission is a lifestyle.
It’s another thing that Bundy underestimates.
Evil men can’t fathom what love will push a person to do.
These men that we’ve surrounded ourselves with, who joined the Finches in their mission to serve up justice to the people who deserved it, that’s not something to take lightly.
Riches shouldn’t equal the ability to use other humans for pleasure freely, and we relish the idea of taking down anybody who disagrees.
A planning session is taking shape at the dinner table.
Ryan, a tall, muscular man sits at the head, his gray hair hanging in his heavily scarred face.
He’s our most valuable asset right now, being that we’ve spent the past year infiltrating him into Bundy’s network until he received a guard position.
That was before I took Emma, back when Lily’s vengeance was the only plan we had.
If he’s here, there must be some news.
Ignoring the looks I get from my father, I pull out a chair at the table. After scanning my set scowl and stony expression, he must give up on the idea of convincing me to stay out of this.
Uncle Aiden, however, never stops before speaking his mind.
“You’re too close to this, Noah. I can’t trust you to think with a clear mind. Let us figure this out.”
I ignore him. “Ryan, tell me you’ve seen them.”
He shakes his head. “Can’t. But I’m working on it.”
My teeth grind. Fuck it. Fuck all of it. I’m leaving and kicking in the front door of every building Bundy has ever walked in—on my own if needed.
I go to stand but Ryan cuts me off. “You need more information,” he says. “Listen, Noah.” My eyes narrow at his tone, but I pause. I can at least hear whatever he has to say before I go.
“Before, we were under the impression that Bundy’s network was filled with diehard loyalists, right?
People who would never dream of going up against him.
Let’s look at it like this,” he says, pulling out a hand drawn map on a scrap of paper.
“Yes, he owns a ton of properties in this area, but the majority of them are empty or used as flats to host some of his higher clients, yeah? And not all of them are participating in the trafficking. Some are just legit business clients and friends. No reinforcements, no security. We cross those off our list.”
He points to two bigger boxes that are close to each other on the map.
“There are really only two main buildings he uses to keep the people they traffic. These two, I’ve marked the locations.
I work at this one and they aren’t there.
Tomorrow I should know about the second one.
Obviously I’ll let you know as soon as I can confirm. ”
“The most important information we need to have is how many men we are going up against. No matter how much we plan, if he has some fuckin’ army, we’re not surviving that. We know he has dangerous contacts he can call if needed,” Aiden says, pulling the map toward himself to scour.
“True, but a large portion of those people he associates with are on the very outer edge. They're straddling having a very clean public persona while also keeping their association with Bundy. We’re talking about our politicians, law enforcement, those types. They pull strings for him behind the scenes, but if things were to go south for him they would absolutely not risk their own image.” Ryan leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head.
“He’s recently started uncovering plots on his own life, likely men who’ve come too close to his dealings and are terrified what will happen if he spills the beans. It’s made him jumpy.”
He nods at the map, where Aiden studies the two main houses.
“These are your focus. I work the slave bay at the bigger one. You’ve seen the videos.
Victims are kept locked up so they don’t need as many guards to maintain control.
There’s probably 15-20 men working in each building at one time, so we can easily handle taking that one down just by fuckin’ coming in hot.
The only problem with that is if they’re able to get some kind of signal to building two before we control the first one.
“Any way to cut communication first?” my dad cuts in.
“I’m sure there is. I’ll lead this group, it will be easy to hit the leaders first. They’ll be the only ones who have direct contact with Bundy and building two.”
“Are these buildings isolated?” I ask.
“These ones are, yes.”
“I'm failing to see why we are waiting, when we could absolutely handle one building at a time and finish this shit tonight”
He sighs. “Noah, I understand your impatience here but a plan is necessary for all the things that can go wrong.”
“I’m not sure what you’re saying. How long are you wanting to make a plan for?”
“Let's give it a week, and I can tip off as many of the victims as I can. I can give you a signal when I know that Bundy is in the same place as Emma and Bo and we can try to hit both places at once. It will be quicker and less chance of losing our men if we do it that way.”
Before I can veto that timeline, vibrations sound all around the table. Wary looks pass between everyone in the room as I pull out my phone, several others doing the same.
A message from an unknown number, devoid of any contact information, has been dropped out of nowhere onto all of our devices. Every fucking phone in this house is going off.
The worst scenarios I’d allowed myself to consider could not prepare me for what is on my screen.
I gave you a pass for the murder of the man that was left behind in your house, a free kill if you will. Consider this your warning for my missing client. If a single one of your men comes for one of mine again, she will be put down like a fucking dog.
As the attachment plays, the world falls away. I must be in hell. The audio staggers on everyone’s phones, a demented horror film starring my Angel and the demons I will tear to fucking pieces with my bare hands.
While we sit here making plans and talking hypotheticals, she’s being tortured in real time. My fucking baby, being used and abused by Bundy’s men. Her face screams disassociation and terror and I'll never be able to go back to a time when it isn’t carved into my brain.
I look up at Ryan, a hurricane in my ears as people react around me. He’s looking at me like he already knows I’m about to fucking lose it. “Noah—”
“A week isn’t happening.”
“Be smart.” He runs his hand through his short hair, frustrated with me. “You need to give me a chance to check that she’s there before we storm in—”
I pull a gun from my waistband like I’m pulling out my wallet. Casual. Nonchalant. I’m losing my goddamn mind here. I hold it in his direction with my hand on the table. “You have two hours.”
“Jesus Christ, Noah,” Dad starts, a terrified look in his eyes. “You are going to get yourself killed.”
“What the fuck is this?” Jesse’s voice, low and shaky, comes from behind me and my heart sinks impossibly further. I peer behind me to see him, eyes still blown from the mania of the last twenty-four hours. I’d hoped the life we took last night would help him, but this video changes everything.
“Bo’s not in this video.”
I almost say that his screams are audible in the background, but to what purpose? So we can both be safe in the knowledge that they’re being abused right this fucking second?
A week? The thought of how much trauma Bundy could pack into them in that amount of time makes the decision easy.
Fuck this. I’ll figure it out on my own.
“I’m sure he’s alive.” Aiden stands, holding his hands out. “We’re putting a plan together now.”
But it’s me Jesse’s staring at, asking with his eyes what we are going to do.
It’s Jesse’s undone, twisted pain that makes my decision for me. Bo and Emma need us, and I’m fucking coming whether my family likes it or not.
Standing, I slide my gun off the table and turn to him, hand on his shoulder. “Dad’s handling this, come.”
Steering him back toward his room, we pass the one I shared with Emma. I can’t even look inside right now.
“Can you help me find my meds?” Jesse asks, throwing open his nightstand drawer and shuffling through it. “I should probably take them or something.”
It’s not a bad idea, that’s for sure. But he’s never been great at staying on them for very long. Half empty bottles tend to pile up in medicine cabinets over time. Stepping into his bathroom, I pop open the door to his, and front and center are his prescriptions.
“Jesse, they’re right here. I don’t have time for this s—” A rag over my mouth muffles the rest of my words, panic jolting through me as my nose burns from the damp cloth.
My hands find the arm reaching around me and yank, attempting to throw them to the ground, but the liquid works quickly, and dizziness is already taking over.
“What the fuck,” I slur, trying to keep myself from crashing into the counter. It’s the mirror in front of me that gives him away. Jesse’s eyes on me as he chews his lip, crushing the rag to my face.
“Chill, dude, in real life chloroform takes like five minutes to actually knock you out.”
My head spins, and I try to slide to the floor in whatever way will keep me from landing face first, but his hands go under my arms and drag me toward the bed.
“I’m sorry, Noah, but sometimes you’re a shit leader. I could see from across the room that you weren’t listening to Ryan.”
I struggle to take in his words, my brain slowing to a crawl as a cold metal circles my hands. I feel like I should fight, but there’s no way. I can barely talk. “Bitch,” I slur.
His face leans down over mine, as serious as I’ve ever seen him. “You can hate me tomorrow, but you can’t fuck this up. I need him back. I need him here. We can’t bring them home if we aren’t smarter than Bundy. If you go there on your own, you’re going to get yourself killed too.”
My eyes drift, heavy. There’s a thought in my head that it keeps trying to grip onto, terrified to let it drift away and get lost. Emma. Emma’s hurt. I need to make it better.
I garble something and his eyes soften. “I know. And this is fucked up, but Bo’s there with her.
He’s been through this shit before and he knows how to help her, okay?
When we get them back we can spend the rest of our lives helping them deal with this, but if you get them killed we don’t get any more fucking time. ”
No more time. It’s the only thing that registers. I need more.
We deserve more time, the world owes her that.
The broken mess in my chest shifts, slicing me up a little bit more. I wish to god I could cry. I can feel the compulsion, but my own fucked up head won’t allow it. I am so fucking broken without her.
“We do what Ryan says. I’ll tell him he has until tomorrow night. Then we go in with all our men and we get them all out. Every one. And then, we’ll hand Emma and Bo the gun and let them massacre the guards if it makes them feel even a little better.”
“One day,” I mutter, and he nods fervently. My eyes close, succumbing to the darkness. “One day,” I say again, though it comes out more like a fractured whisper.
It's an echo in my head as I fall into blackness.
One day.