Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
hades
The prospect's name is Tiny. He’s twenty-two years old, eager to prove himself, and stupid enough to think protecting Evangeline on a pharmacy run would be easy.
I find him in the parking lot behind the twenty-four-hour pharmacy three blocks from the clubhouse, slumped against the rear tire of his truck. His eyes are glassy, pupils dilated, and there's dried drool on his chin.
"Tiny." I shake him hard enough to rattle his teeth. "Where is she? Where's Evangeline?"
He mumbles something incoherent, his head lolling. Tempest drops to his knees beside us, checking Tiny's pulse and pupils.
"He's been drugged," Tempest says grimly. "Something fast-acting. Probably slipped it to him inside the pharmacy."
"How long ago?"
"Based on his condition, twenty, maybe thirty minutes."
Thirty minutes. Evangeline has been in Morrison's hands for half an hour, and I've been sitting in the clubhouse planning a hit that's already too late.
"Search the area," I order, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. "Check surveillance cameras, talk to anyone who was working inside. I want to know who took her and where they went."
Ghost is already on his phone, coordinating with our police contacts. Rogue's pulling up the traffic camera feeds on his laptop. Savage and Sniper are questioning the pharmacy staff.
But I already know what they're going to find.
Nothing.
Morrison's too smart to leave obvious trails. Too connected to leave witnesses. He planned this perfectly, waited until I was distracted, and took the woman I love.
"Hades." Ghost's voice cuts through the rage. "We'll find her."
"When? In an hour? Two? How long before Morrison decides Evangeline's not useful anymore and puts a bullet in her head?"
"He won't. She's leverage. He needs her alive to control you."
The logic is sound, but it does nothing to quiet the panic clawing at my chest. Evangeline is out there, terrified, probably hurt, definitely blaming herself for leaving the safety of the clubhouse.
And I let it happen.
I should have kept her in the secure wing. I should have posted guards outside the door, should have made sure they had everything they needed without leaving. Should have fucking paid attention instead of getting lost in planning Morrison's death while he was planning her abduction.
"This is on me," I say, the words tasting like ash.
"This is on Morrison," Tempest corrects. "He's been three steps ahead this whole time, using the intelligence Ivy gave him years ago. You couldn't have known."
"I should have known. I should have anticipated he'd go after her."
"Brother," Ghost's hand lands on my shoulder, firm and grounding, "beating yourself up doesn't help her. Focus. We need to figure out where he took her and how to get her back."
He's right. Self-recrimination is a luxury I can't afford right now.
"Start with the Shadow Hawks," I say, forcing my mind to work through the panic. "Morrison's been reaching out to them, trying to broker deals. Maybe he's using one of their safe houses."
"We took out their club months ago," Rogue says, not looking up from his laptop. "Cleared out most of their known locations."
"Most, not all. Where would they hide if they were regrouping?"
"Somewhere off the grid. Rural, defensible, with multiple escape routes."
Rogue pulls up a map, marking locations we know about and crossing off the ones we've already cleared. What's left is a handful of properties in the surrounding counties, any one of which could be housing Morrison and his captive.
"That's still too many locations to search," Savage points out. "We spread our forces that thin, we leave ourselves vulnerable if this is a trap."
"It is a trap," I say flatly. "Morrison knows I'll come after her. He's counting on it."
"Then we don't give him what he wants. We coordinate with law enforcement and have them handle the rescue—"
"Morrison has people in law enforcement. The second we make official moves, he'll know about it."
The catch-twenty-two settles over the group like a weight. We can't use official channels because Morrison's compromised them, but we can't move on our own without potentially walking into an ambush.
"There's another option," Tempest says quietly.
"What?"
"We make him come to us."
I stare at him, waiting for the rest.
"Morrison wants you, right? He wants to make you suffer for taking Evangeline away from him. So we give him what he wants. You, alone, vulnerable. He shows up to gloat, we take him down."
"Using me as bait."
"Using you as leverage. He's got Evangeline. We've got you. He wants a trade, we negotiate terms that give us the advantage."
It's risky as hell and assumes Morrison will play by rules he's already broken. But it might be our only shot at getting Evangeline back alive.
"Do it," I say. "Set up the meet. But I want backup close enough to respond if things go sideways."
"You're not going alone," Ghost says firmly. "I don't care what Morrison demands. We're not giving him a clean shot at you."
"He won't kill me. Not until he's made me watch him hurt her first."
The words come out cold, calculated, but inside I'm burning with rage and fear. The thought of Morrison touching Evangeline, hurting her, makes me want to tear the world apart with my bare hands.
"Hades." Rogue's voice draws my attention to his laptop screen. "Got something."
I move to look over his shoulder. He's pulled up traffic camera footage from the pharmacy parking lot, time-stamped twenty-eight minutes ago.
The video shows Evangeline walking out with a small pharmacy bag, looking tired but alert. Tiny follows behind her, looking professional and watchful.
Then a van pulls up. White, nondescript, no plates visible from this angle. Two men get out, both wearing masks. One grabs Tiny, pressing something to his neck. He drops like a stone.
The other man reaches for Evangeline, but she's already moving. Backing away, yelling something I can't hear, trying to run.
Pride and terror war in my chest as I watch her fight. She kicks, scratches, uses every dirty trick she can think of. But she's outmatched and they know it. One of them grabs her from behind while the other injects her with something.
She goes limp in seconds, and they load her into the van before speeding away.
The whole thing takes less than ninety seconds.
"Shadow Hawks," Savage says, pointing to a tattoo visible on one of the attackers' forearms. "That's their mark."
"So Morrison's not just using their safe houses. He's actually working with them."
"Looks that way."
The implications are staggering. Morrison's not just a lone criminal with money and connections. He's got backing from an established MC, which means more manpower, more resources, more danger.
"We need to move fast," Ghost says. "The longer they have Evangeline, the more time Morrison has to fortify his position or move her again."
My phone buzzes. Unknown number, but I know who it is before I even answer.
"You've got something that belongs to me," Morrison says without preamble.
"And you've got something that belongs to me."
"Touché. So let's make a deal. You want your woman back? Come get her."
"Where?"
"I'll send coordinates. Come alone, unarmed, or I start hurting her in ways that'll leave permanent damage."
"How do I know she's alive?"
There's a pause, then Evangeline's voice comes through the line. "Hades, don't—"
The sound cuts off abruptly, followed by Morrison's laughter. "She's fine. For now. Still has that fighting spirit you seem to love so much. But that changes if you don't follow my instructions exactly."
"What do you want?"
"I want to watch you suffer the way you've made me suffer. I want you to understand what it feels like to lose everything you care about."
"This isn't about Evangeline. This is about Ivy."
Another pause, longer this time. "You've been doing your homework."
"I know you were using her intelligence to build your operation. I know she died and your network should have collapsed, but it didn't. I know you've been sitting on that information for years, waiting for the right moment to cash it in."
"Very good. And yes, Ivy was a valuable asset. More valuable than she realized, actually. When she died, I lost my best source of intelligence. But the information she'd already provided was enough to keep me ahead of the game."
"So what, you're using Evangeline to get back at me for something I had nothing to do with?"
"I'm using Evangeline to get everything I want. Money, power, revenge. She's the key to all of it."
"She'll never go back to you."
"She will when she realizes the alternative is watching you die slowly. See, that's what love does, Hades. It makes you weak. Makes you do stupid things to protect the people you care about."
The casual threat makes my vision go red. "Touch her and I'll make your death last days."
"Then I suggest you follow my instructions. Coordinates are being sent now. You've got two hours."
The line goes dead before I can respond.
"He's baiting you," Ghost says unnecessarily. "Wants you angry, wants you making mistakes."
"I know what he's doing."
"Do you? Because right now you look like you're about to do something stupid and get yourself killed."
"I'm going to get her back."
"We're going to get her back. As a club, with proper planning and backup."
"He said come alone."
"And you think he's going to honor that? The second you show up, his people are going to put you down and keep Evangeline anyway."
"Then what's your plan?"
Ghost spreads a map on the hood of a nearby car. "We set up perimeter positions before you arrive. Sniper teams, extraction vehicles, communications jamming. You go in as bait, we provide the teeth."
It's a good plan, solid tactically. But it requires time we don't have and coordination that could fall apart if Morrison's watching for exactly this kind of response.
"Two hours," I say. "That's all we've got to set this up and execute."
"Then we’d better stop talking and start moving."
My phone buzzes with a text. The coordinates Morrison promised, along with a photo that makes my blood turn to ice.
Evangeline, her hands bound together as she’s lying on the floor in what looks like an empty warehouse. Her lip is split again and there's a fresh bruise forming on her other cheek, but her eyes are clear and focused. Defiant, even in captivity.
The text beneath reads: Come alone or she dies.
I stare at the photo, memorizing every detail. The warehouse interior, the positioning of the chair, the shadows that suggest windows or doors. Any information that might give us an advantage.
But mostly I'm looking at Evangeline's face, seeing the fear she's trying to hide, the determination not to break no matter what Morrison does to her.
Last night she was in my arms, safe and loved and mine. We made love, whispered promises, talked about a future together.
Now she's tied to a chair in some warehouse, hurt and terrified, and it's my fault for not protecting her better.
"I'm coming," I murmur to the phone, even though Morrison can't hear me. "Just hold on a little longer, Angel. I'm coming."
And when I get there, Morrison's going to learn what it really means to suffer.