Chapter 6 Kreed
KREED
Now I had a starting point and a loose plan, I just had to get her cousin on board, which meant I had to be the one to tell him Kaylor was missing, a task I was fucking dreading.
If he blamed me, I wouldn’t fault him. He could take all the shots he wanted at me once I got Kaylor back, but until then…our energies needed to be focused on infiltrating Rusty’s corrupt operation. With the Elite, there was no way we failed.
I was putting a lot of faith into four guys I rarely knew and trusted less, but because she was family, I had to believe their conviction aligned with mine.
I sent Brock a text, letting him know I was on my way to him, that we needed to talk, and I’d rather do it in person. His response was as predicted. Short. And to the point. Basically telling me I’d better not be wasting his time.
He was in for quite a shock. And not a pleasant one.
I found him outside Kingsley University, where he went to school, his silhouette carved against the building’s limestone facade. He leaned against the hood of a black Range Rover, his scowl gleaming under the streetlights. His phone glowed blue against his face as he scrolled.
“You better have a damn good reason for pulling me out of bed,” he said without lifting his eyes from the screen, his thumb continuing its lazy swipe across the glass, completely dismissive of my presence. “I left a very cozy girl to stand out here in the cold.”
Josie. I didn’t know his history with his girl, but from what I’d seen, he loved with a dedication I hadn’t expected from someone like him.
“I do.” I stopped a few feet away from him, close enough to see the flecks of irritation in his aqua eyes but far enough to hopefully avoid Brock’s immediate temptation to grab me and knock me out senseless for losing his cousin. “It’s Kaylor.”
The transformation was instant. I had his full attention now. “What the fuck about her?”
I braced myself. This wouldn’t be pretty, and I found it harder than I imagined admitting what I had to say. I felt like I failed. Him. Her. Myself. “She’s gone.”
He straightened from his casual lean, his spine going rigid. “What the fuck do you mean gone? Where did she go? And I’d choose your words carefully.”
I met his glare head-on, refusing to flinch from the fury building behind his eyes. “She gave herself up to save Kenny.”
“You’re telling me,” Brock growled as he took a step forward, closing the distance between us until I could feel the heat radiating from his body, “that my cousin is gone. And you”—he poked me in the chest—“let that happen?”
“I didn’t let shit happen.” I held my ground, my fingers curling into fists.
His hand shot out faster than I could react, palm connecting with my chest in a shove that would have sent most people stumbling backward, but I’d anticipated such a move.
If the tables had been reversed, my reaction would have been ten times worse.
I would have already rendered him unconscious, so the fact that I was still on my feet spoke volumes about Brock’s notorious control.
I absorbed the impact without moving, letting him feel the solid wall of my refusal to be intimidated.
He shoved me again, harder this time, his face twisted with a rage I was freaking too familiar with. “I trusted you,” he snapped. “To keep her safe. That was the one fucking job you had.”
“You think I just let her go? You don’t think I would have done everything in my power to keep her from making such a reckless choice?”
His fist clocked me on the cheek, and my head snapped to the side, familiar pain blooming on my face. It felt good. I needed the pain, needed the fight. “You have no idea how much restraint it’s costing me not to hit you again and again.”
“I have a pretty fair idea, and I won’t fault you for it. Hit me again and again if you need to, as long as you hear me out.”
“Why the fuck should I?”
“Look, I know I fucked up.” I shook my head.
“I should have locked her up, handcuffed her to a—” I almost said bed, but changed my mind at the last second.
“Pipe.” My own anger began to simmer beneath the surface, anger at myself.
“You don’t give Kaylor enough credit. There’s no denying she’s related to you.
She’s foxy when she wants to be. Smart. Stubborn as hell. ”
“What happened?” he demanded through gritted teeth, pushing away from me. “How?”
“She slipped through every defense I had in place.” Including the one I’d built around my heart, but that particular wound was too fresh, too raw to expose to his scrutiny.
I kept that thought buried, storing it away in the dark corner of my mind with all the other suppressed feelings and memories I couldn’t deal with.
Not now. Not yet. “Right now, I need you to put aside your hatred and help me get her back.”
Brock began to pace alongside the Range Rover, his fingers running through his dark hair, leaving it disheveled. “I’m assuming you’re here because you have a plan?”
“Sort of.”
“You’re not instilling me with much confidence, Corvo. You better have one hell of an idea to redeem yourself.”
“I’ve been going at this all wrong.” I began to pace too, unable to stand still while adrenaline coursed through my system.
“I kept looking for where they’re keeping her, trying to track her current location, following leads that went nowhere.
But that’s not the smart move.” I stopped, turning to face him directly.
“The auction, that’s the moment they’ll expose themselves.
When they have to gather all the buyers in one place, when there are more people to manage, more variables they can’t control.
That’s when their security will have the most gaps. That’s when we strike.”
“So you want to crash it? Go in guns blazing?”
“No.” I shook my head. “We get someone inside. Someone who belongs in that room, who won’t raise red flags. Someone rich. Connected. Sleazy enough to pass for the kind of person who buys human beings. I need a buyer.”
“That’s why you came to me.”
It wasn’t a question.
I faced him as he leaned against his car.
“You’ve got ties. And a black book full of names, or so I’ve heard.
” I held his gaze, letting him see the desperation I’d been trying so hard to hide.
“I figured you’d know someone who’d owe you a favor.
Someone with enough skeletons in their closet that they couldn’t afford to say no. ”
“Goddamn it. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe she gave herself over. And yet, it’s exactly something I would expect from Kay. I should have seen this coming.”
“She was determined. She would have found a way because that is the kind of person she is.”
He didn’t argue the point. “I’ll have Fynn find someone who fits the profile.”
“Thanks.” Relief flooded through me, but I forced myself to stay focused. “We need him to secure an invite.”
He raised a brow. “I’ll have Fynn work on putting together a fake online presence that will get their notice.”
“I’ll bring the manpower. I need to know if there’s a website, promotional photos, video feeds, anything these fuckers are using to advertise her to potential buyers. Some kind of catalog or preview system. Is this something Fynn might be able to find?”
“You think they are broadcasting these girls online?” Brock’s expression darkened.
“It’s a hunch. Rusty sent me a video of Kaylor, a warning.”
He gave a tight nod, his jaw set in grim determination. “Send me the video, and I’ll see if Fynn can get a read on anything. He’s been digging through trafficking channels and monitoring suspicious activity since Kenny was taken. If there’s digital evidence out there, he’ll find it.”
“Anything you uncover could be the key,” I said, and a fragile mix of hope and desperation unfurled in my belly.
Brock pushed off from the Range Rover’s hood. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow morning with a name. Once you’ve got your inside man, find a way to get them on the guest list for the shadiest fucking auction Elmwood has ever tried to hide.”
“I will.” The promise fell from my lips like a blood oath. I turned to walk away, but his voice stopped me after three steps.
“Bring her home.” It wasn’t a request.
I glanced over my shoulder, meeting his eyes one last time. “I won’t stop until I do, and then, they’re all dead.”
Pound. Whack. Pound.
The sound of leather meeting flesh bounced off the walls, each impact reverberating through the home gym. My knuckles had gone numb twenty minutes ago, but I kept driving my fists into the heavy bag, the chain above creaking and groaning under the assault.
Sweat poured down my spine in rivulets, and salt stung my eyes, but I didn’t stop to wipe it away. Right hook. Left cross. Right uppercut that made the bag swing on its mount like a pendulum marking time I didn’t have.
I wasn’t counting reps anymore. Wasn’t following any training regimen or workout plan. I was burning each strike, working through scenarios where each punch was a different way to make Rusty pay for what he’d done. The pain felt good, cleaner than the rage churning in my gut.
Brock’s personal home gym housed state-of-the-art equipment on rubber flooring. Mirrors covered three walls, reflecting my movements in endless repetition, while the fourth wall was pure floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking manicured grounds currently still being patrolled by Evan.
This place was a fortress. Motion sensors and cameras monitored every inch of the exterior.
Dare I say the equipment was better than what we had at the Willows Estate.
Brock agreed to let my brothers and me stay at his house until we found Kaylor, his place providing the kind of privacy and protection we needed, not just from Rusty but from my father.
I couldn’t trust him. Not with this. Not with Kaylor.
I threw another punch, harder this time, putting my full weight behind it just as my phone buzzed against the leather bench behind me. The persistent vibrations cut through my focus. I stalked over and snatched the device up with sweat-slick fingers.
Dad.
Of course, because my life wasn’t complicated enough without him inserting himself into the middle of a crisis.
I thumbed open the text, squinting at the screen.
Where the hell are you?
School called. Said you and your brothers missed classes again.
We need to talk. Come home immediately.
Bring Maddox and Mason.
I stared at the messages, feeling my upper lip curl into a snarl.
The words blurred slightly as sweat dripped from my hairline onto the screen.
“Go to hell,” I muttered, right before I cocked my arm back and hurled the phone across the room.
It sailed through the air in a perfect arc before bouncing off the rubber flooring with a satisfying crack, skittering under a weight rack where it came to rest against a forty-five-pound plate.
The screen went dark.
That might not have been the smartest decision. If Kaylor tried to call or, hell, if Rusty tried to send another message… Shit. I’d have to get Evan to get me another phone.
“Do I even want to know who has the audacity to piss you off at a time like this?” Raine’s voice carried a mixture of amusement and bone-deep exhaustion as he leaned against the door frame, one shoulder pressed to the metal while his arms crossed over his chest.
“Just Daddy Dearest,” I said, grabbing a white towel from the bench and dragging it across my face. The terry cloth came away dark with sweat and traces of blood from where I’d split my knuckles.
“Should’ve guessed.” He pushed off from the door frame and walked into the gym. “You ever think about telling him what’s actually going on? About Kaylor?”
“Not a chance in hell.” The words came out sharper than I’d intended, but I didn’t soften them. Some truths were too dangerous to share, even with family.
“You really don’t trust him.” It wasn’t a question, more like an observation delivered with the understanding of someone who’d watched this family dysfunction play out for years.
“Would you?” I shot back, turning to face him fully. “He was working with Rusty, whatever the fuck you want to call it. Who’s to say he isn’t bankrolling this whole underground shit show? Might be funding the trafficking ring as a side hustle.”
Raine exhaled slowly, a sound that seemed to deflate him slightly as he sat down on the bench press. “Well, in other news,” he said, fishing his phone from his back pocket. “I’ve got something that might actually matter.”
My shoulders went rigid, every muscle in my body tensing. “Yeah?”
“The auction.”
I gave him my complete attention for the first time since he’d entered the room. “You found it?”
“Wasn’t easy.” He held my gaze, his expression serious. “I asked around the club. We got lucky. One of the girls had a client the other night who liked to talk.” He paused. “It’s happening Friday.”
I blinked, certain I’d misheard him. “This Friday?”
He nodded. “This Friday night.”
That gave us... no time at all. Barely enough to finalize a plan, get our inside man in position, and coordinate the rescue. “Fuck,” I muttered.
“Don’t worry,” Raine assured, clapping me on the back. “You’ll ride in on your white horse and save the girl.”
I snorted bitterly. “Don’t paint me like a hero, Raine. She’s in this mess because of me. Because I couldn’t keep her safe, because I let her slip away, because I—”
“No.” He cut me off. “She’s in this mess because of us. All of us. We’re all responsible for the choices that led to this moment.”
“Honestly? This whole fucking nightmare goes beyond us. Our parents made this mess, fueled the hatred between our crews.” My father, the man who was supposed to protect his family, who’d raised us to believe in loyalty and honor and all the other bullshit values that apparently didn’t apply when there was money to be made. “Asshole,” I muttered under my breath.
Raine’s lips twitched, knowing exactly who I was referring to. “That he is.”
We both knew the same fundamental truth. We didn’t have time to waste on family drama or personal guilt or anything else that didn’t directly contribute to bringing Kaylor home.
The countdown had begun.