Chapter 21 Hades
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
hades
Every bump in the road is a reminder of her pain. Every breath she takes, shallow and pained, is a countdown on the bastard who caused it.
The truck's passenger window is shattered, cold air whipping through the cab. Glass crunches under my boots every time I shift gears. Blood dries on my hands, my knuckles split and swelling, but I don't feel any of it.
All I feel is rage.
Evangeline leans against me, barely conscious, her body trembling despite the jacket I wrapped around her shoulders. Every few minutes she makes a small sound of pain, and each one drives a spike deeper into my chest.
I did this. Not directly, but I let it happen.
I should have made it clear that she wasn’t to leave the clubhouse.
Should have told her if she needed anything to send the prospect, not go anywhere herself.
I underestimated Morrison, underestimated his connections, underestimated how far he'd go to get what he wanted.
And she paid the price.
"Hades?" Her voice is so quiet I almost miss it over the engine noise.
"I'm here, Angel. Just hold on. We're almost home."
"The kids..."
"Are safe. Tempest's with them. They don't know anything yet."
She nods slightly then winces. I resist the urge to pull over, to check every injury, to make sure she's really okay. We need to get to the clubhouse first, where Ruin can look at her properly. He’s a trained medic so he’ll be able to help her.
And my brothers can help me plan what comes next.
The gates come into view, and I see brothers already waiting in the parking lot. Word travels fast in the club, and Ghost's probably been coordinating since the moment we called for extraction.
Tempest is first to the truck, yanking open the passenger door before I've even killed the engine.
"Jesus Christ," he breathes, taking in Evangeline's condition. "Ruin's ready in the back room. How bad?"
"Bad enough." I slide out and move around to help Evangeline. "Cracked ribs, cuts, probably concussion. She needs a full assessment."
"I can walk," Evangeline protests weakly as I lift her from the seat.
"I know you can. But you don't have to."
I carry her inside, ignoring the brothers who step aside to let us pass. Their faces are hard, fury barely contained. They've seen the state we're in, and they know what it means.
War.
Ruin's already setting up in the back room when we arrive, his weathered face grim. He's seen plenty of violence in his years patching up brothers, but there's something about seeing it done to an innocent woman that hits different.
"On the table," he directs. "Hades, I need space to work."
I set her down as gently as I can, but she still gasps in pain. The sound makes my hands clench into fists.
"I'm going to examine you now," Ruin tells Evangeline, his voice kind despite the circumstances. "Tell me if anything hurts more than it already does."
I step back to give him room, but I can't leave. Can't stop watching as he carefully cuts away her blood-soaked shirt, revealing the full extent of the damage.
Bruises bloom across her ribs in shades of purple and black. The knife wound on her arm is still bleeding sluggishly. Her face is swollen, split lip crusted with dried blood.
I memorize every mark. Every bruise. Every cut.
Fuel for what comes next.
"Don't," Evangeline says, reading my expression even through the pain. "Don't do something stupid."
"Not stupid, Angel. Just necessary."
"Hades—"
"Two cracked ribs," Ruin interrupts, his hands gentle as he probes her side. "Possible concussion. This cut needs stitches. And her thumb's dislocated."
"I did that," Evangeline says. "Getting free from the ropes."
Pride wars with guilt in my chest. She saved herself, saved me, and showed more courage than most hardened criminals. But she never should have had to.
"It’s going to hurt when I set it," Ruin warns.
"Do it."
The snap makes me flinch. Evangeline doesn't make a sound, just grips the edge of the table so hard her knuckles go white.
"You're tougher than half my brothers," Ruin mutters, wrapping her thumb. "I'll get started on those stitches."
I watch him work, unable to look away even though every stitch is a reminder of my failure to protect her. Tempest appears beside me, his voice low.
"Ghost wants to see you when you're ready."
"I'm not leaving her."
"Wasn't asking you to. But we need to talk about next steps. Cops are going to be here soon. Someone called in the gunfire at the warehouse."
Right. The warehouse where we left three bodies and enough evidence to put us all away if the wrong people start looking.
"Let them come. We were defending ourselves."
"That's one way to spin it." Tempest's expression is carefully neutral. "Ghost has been making calls, getting ahead of it. But we need our stories straight."
"The story is simple. They took her, we got her back. End of fucking story."
"And the bodies?"
"Self-defense. They were armed, we responded with appropriate force."
Tempest studies my face for a long moment. "Appropriate force. Right."
Ruin finishes the stitches and moves on to cleaning and bandaging the other injuries. Evangeline's eyes keep drifting closed, exhaustion and pain medication pulling her under.
"She needs rest," Ruin says finally. "Keep her awake for another hour to monitor for concussion, then let her sleep. Someone should check on her every few hours."
"I'll do it."
"Figured you would." Ruin packs up his supplies. "She's strong, Hades. She'll heal. But it'll take time."
Time we have now. Time Morrison stole from us but won't get a chance to steal again.
Ghost appears in the doorway, his face grim. "Cops just pulled up. Detective Isaacs and two uniforms."
"Good. Let's get this over with."
I look at Evangeline, but she's already drifting, her breathing evening out. Safe for now, protected by walls and brothers and the knowledge that I'll die before I let anyone hurt her again.
"Don't leave," she murmurs.
"Never."
But I have to leave the room and deal with the cops before they start asking questions I don't want to answer. I follow Ghost to the main room, where brothers have already cleared out, leaving just us and the space for official business.
Detective Isaacs walks in with the same tired determination she's carried since the day she told me about Calla and Marcus. Her sharp eyes take in everything, and I can see her putting pieces together.
"Hades," she greets me, her voice professional but not unkind. "Heard you had an eventful evening."
"Could say that."
"Three dead at the warehouse on Fifth. Your name came up." She pauses, studying my face. "Same warehouse district where we've been tracking Shadow Hawk activity. Same Shadow Hawks I've been connecting to Ethan Morrison."
"He took Evangeline. Marcus' sister-in-law. The kids' aunt."
Something flickers in Isaacs' expression. Recognition, maybe. Or understanding. "The woman you listed as emergency guardian when your sister died."
"Yeah. That one."
"Want to tell me how three Shadow Hawk enforcers ended up with their skulls cracked?"
"They made me watch while they hurt her. I stopped them. Used whatever was available."
Isaacs walks a slow circle around me, and I can see her processing. She's been investigating Calla and Marcus' murders for weeks, been following the money trail, the connections to Ethan Morrison. Now it's all coming together.
"Self-defense?" she asks, but there's less challenge in her voice than there might be.
"Is there another word for it when someone's torturing an innocent woman?"
"Depends on how much force you used to stop them."
"Enough. Not one bit more than necessary."
It's a lie, and we both know it. I used exactly as much force as my rage demanded, and I'd do it again without hesitation.
Isaacs pulls out her notebook and flips through pages. "I've been building a case against Ethan Morrison for months. Money laundering, connections to organized crime, possibly even involvement in your sister's death." She looks up at me. "Tonight's events... they complicate things."
"Or they simplify them. Morrison's connected to the Shadow Hawks. The Hawks took Evangeline to force my compliance. We defended ourselves."
"That's one version." She closes her notebook.
"Here's another. The man I've been investigating for murder just escalated to kidnapping and torture.
Evidence suggests he's been working with the Shadow Hawks to eliminate threats and expand his criminal network.
Three of his associates died tonight in a confrontation with their intended victims."
"That version work better for your case?"
"It works better for the truth." She slides the notebook back into her pocket. "Security footage shows the abduction from the pharmacy. We have the van, we have witness statements. Evangeline's injuries are documented. This is a righteous case, Hades."
"So no charges?"
"Not against you. But I need your help building the case against Morrison. Everything you know, everything your PI found, all of it."
"Done. On one condition."
"What's that?"
"You find him before I do."
Isaacs' expression hardens. "That's not a condition, that's a warning. And I'm telling you right now, vigilante justice will land you in prison."
"Then find him first."
She studies me for a long moment, weighing options, calculating odds. Finally, she nods. "I'll do my best. But Hades? If you get to him first, make sure I can build a case that sticks. Make sure there's evidence, witnesses, something that holds up in court."
"Understood."
"I mean it. Your sister deserves justice, not revenge. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Yes. And if you can't see that, then you're no better than the men who killed her."
The words hit harder than I expect, probably because there's truth in them. Calla would want justice, would want the system to work. But the system failed her. Failed Marcus. Nearly failed Evangeline.