28. Ren
28
REN
I s it really waking up early if you never went to sleep?
I don’t think I’ve ever anticipated something this much in my entire life.
I should’ve known I’d never get my brain to quiet down long enough for sleep to find me. I’m far too pumped, running on adrenaline and excitement.
It’s enough to hold my angel while she sleeps, though it’s been clear she’s troubled for hours. Every so often, she stirs, sometimes groaning softly as if she’s having a nightmare. All it took was my whispered reassurance of her safety to settle her down again.
I promise. You won’t have any nightmares once this is over.
No matter where life takes us, I’ll make it good for her. She will never regret following her heart to where it led. To my arms, where she has always belonged. The fighting I did with myself, the struggle to hold her at a safe distance, was all a pointless waste of time.
We were meant for each other.
The digital clock on the nightstand counts down the minutes until finally, closing in on four o’clock, there’s no putting off the inevitable any longer. We’re only a handful of miles from the compound, but I’d still rather move out as early as possible to have darkness on our side.
Catching them off guard will give us the best advantage.
Brushing my lips over Scarlet’s ear, I whisper, “Wake up, angel. It’s time to get moving.”
She makes a sleepy noise, groaning softly while stretching like a kitten. “I didn’t know I even fell asleep.”
“You did. You even snored.” I grin. “It’s almost four now.”
One more kiss against her temple before I unwind my arms from around her warm, soft body. What I wouldn’t give to stay in bed, to slowly wake her with my touch, my kiss, until we both end up passing out from exhaustion.
No, not yet. Soon.
River’s counting on me to do this.
I can’t let him down. No matter how enticing the sight of Scarlet’s body is beneath a thin sheet draped suggestively over her bare ass.
The thought of how he’d react if he knew I was wavering even for a second gets me up and out of bed. I go to the bathroom for a quick washup before vacating the room for her. She’s already dressed and has gotten everything in order, the suitcase waiting by the door.
It’s strange the way my heart swells at something so ordinary. Nothing about her wanting to be efficient is inherently special, but I can’t shake the memory of the way she reacted when I suggested needing her today.
She’s afraid. I know it.
She doesn’t have to be—she has me to protect her, and I’d rather lose my life than risk hers. I suppose it’s a human reaction, no matter how it picks at the back of my mind. What do I have to do to gain her complete trust?
I can’t let this shit get in the way. Not now. Focus is the name of the game.
The image of a broken, bleeding, weeping Christian on the floor while I straddled his chest fills my mind.
“Please. No more. I gave you everything you asked for.”
He did—at least that evening when we had our first visit in years. He gave me all the information I needed to make this trip a success.
He could’ve given me more back in the day, though. That was always the problem. Back then, I needed mercy. Understanding. Patience. I was a child in the hands of sadists who convinced themselves they were doing God’s work. There was nothing holy about it.
Desire unfurls in my core, but it isn’t the ever-present desire for the woman now emerging from the bathroom. This time it’s darker. Seething. Hungry.
“Everything ready?” she asks before shoving her feet into her sneakers.
I grunt in affirmation, too deeply entranced by the siren song of sweet revenge. I need it. I deserve to destroy and eliminate every last one of the evil fuckers who took my childhood, my parents, and the years that should’ve been full of happiness and wonder but that were instead full of fear, pain, and distrust.
How long did it take before I could sleep without a light on?
“Your tears are worthless.”
Christian shouted through the locked door to the closet, where he’d shoved me when I wouldn’t comply with one demand or another. The cold, cramped closet where I spent so many hours.
“God doesn’t hear you because he doesn’t hear liars who defy their elders.”
I wonder if God heard him screech when River cut his balls off. I can only smile at the reminder.
A deep breath brings me back to the present, where I wheel the bag down the hall and into the elevator. I doubt anything but a skeleton crew is on duty at this time of the morning, except in the casino on the ground floor.
We don’t cross paths with anyone before reaching the door leading to the garage, where the Jeep is where I left it last night.
That doesn’t mean my head’s not on a swivel, of course, constantly on the lookout for trouble. I scan our surroundings, then check to be sure nobody’s lying in wait inside the car before opening the door. Scarlet’s quick to climb in, her features pinched, and her eyes narrowed. She might be more focused than I am.
Once we’re out of the garage and traveling down a much quieter Virginia Street—but not empty, not even close—I blow out a big breath that better centers me. So close now. There’s no turning back now.
“Stay close to me at all times.” My gaze slides to her.
Her hands are clasped between her thighs, which bounce slightly, letting me know she is nervous. “Understood?”
“Yes. Of course.” She blurts out a shaky, high-pitched laugh. “Where else would I go?”
“Just making sure we’re on the same page. I don’t want you slipping out of my sight or reach.”
“Are we, though? I still don’t know what you expect to do when we get there or what you expect me to do. I don’t plan on running away or letting anyone touch me, but I don’t know the plan. Everything will be okay as long as I know what’s going on.”
True. I guess she needs to know what River and I cooked up.
“Christian gave us the code for the front gate, so there’s no need to wait for a guard to open it. We’ll park roughly a quarter mile from the gate to lower the chance of being noticed.”
“Okay.”
I’ve already been through it in my head, visualizing the Google images and seeing myself walking the grounds. “The first building on the right is the guardhouse. A single guard should be on post there. I can take him out and confiscate his weapon before we move further into the compound.”
With a glance her way, I ask a question I should already know the answer to. “Do you know how to use a gun?”
A stupid question, but at least it has the effect of breaking the tension.
“Do you know who my father is? What do you think?”
There’s my fierce queen. “I wanted to be sure. If it makes you feel better, you can take the guard’s gun, and I’ll use what we find in the arsenal. That’s the square shed behind the guardhouse.”
“Maybe you should keep it.” She shrugs when I look her way. “Using a gun is one thing, but actually having to shoot somebody? I’m not sure I could do that. I’m not a killer.”
It’s a total knee-jerk reflex sort of thing, the way my hackles rise at her apprehension. “Either way, you’ll need to arm yourself. I won’t have you going around unarmed. And I might need you to cover me.”
She’s breathing too fast. Too hard.
Fuck . This was a mistake. I can’t have panic attacks getting in the way.
Rather than drive the last mile through the patch of flat, empty nothing between us and the compound, I pull to the side of the road and turn in my seat.
“I know what I’m doing. Follow my lead and act decisively. No hesitating. I need you to trust me. I wouldn’t put you in danger without knowing the risk associated.”
She nods, gulping. “It’s just that I?—”
“No.” It’s almost a bark, and it has the power to make her jump. “You can do this. I know you have it in you. Do you think I’d bring you along if you couldn’t take care of yourself? I need a second pair of eyes behind my head. We’re a team, and I trust you.”
Her wide, trusting blue eyes search my face like she’s hoping I’ll change my mind at the last moment.
That’s not going to happen, and my steady gaze conveys this.
She sighs softly before stiffening her spine, her chin lifting almost defiantly. “Got it.”
Now is not the time for my dick to stiffen, but I can’t help it. She’s never turned me on the way she is now, ready to march into war at my side, no matter the fear.
River was wrong. Bringing her with me was the best choice I could’ve made. She gives me the strength I need, the focus, as I start off again.
If she can do this, so can I.
We’re still a long way off from dawn, but I flip the headlights off as soon as a slight flicker of light appears on the horizon.
The compound.
New Haven.
She’s in there. They all are.
I can’t risk anyone spotting our approach, which means taking it slow the last half mile before pulling off the road at what was once a gas station but is now the home to weeds and any number of small creatures who scamper away at our approach. I hold a finger to my lips, and she nods before we open our doors and close them as quietly as possible.
I can recite the codes Christian gave up before he died backward and forward while standing on my head. Studying never interested me much, but when the subject is one I feel a connection to? That is a different story.
There’s never been a more compelling subject.
Scarlet follows close behind me, her hand in mine.
I’d rather not speak, something she seems to understand. The silence—and the touch of her hand—allow me to train my focus on the compound and whether there’s any movement from the outer buildings. A wide swath of land has been fenced in with chain link and topped with barbed wire; only a third or so has been developed. I never understood that. If it is such a peaceful place. If you can come and go as you like, what is the point of barbed wire? It was never a place to keep you safe. It was to keep you inside. Trapped.
They have big plans.
What a shame those plans won’t come to fruition.
When we’re close enough for me to identify movement in the guardhouse, I squeeze her hand before coming to a stop.
My heart gallops in my chest as I drop into a crouch with her following suit, our legs brushing, only our mixed breathing breaking the silence.
It’s not much more than a trailer set on a cinder block foundation, giving the guards the advantage of extra height. I’m sure it’s nice for them to sit up high and feel like hot shit because they have guns and permission to use them.
I knew there’d be someone in there, but was it too much to ask for the building to be empty? For something to work in our favor and balance the odds a little? At least only one figure passes the window overlooking the sliding gate. It’s at least fifteen feet tall and accessible only by the keypad in the guardhouse or the keypad mounted alongside an intercom speaker.
If the keypad is smashed, shot, or otherwise damaged, it trips the alarm. Christian shared that piece of information with us in hopes that I would take it easy on him.
We’ll see if he truly helped. If the codes are any good.
If not?
Turning to her, I fish the keys to the Jeep from my back pocket and press them into her open palm. “In case I’m hurt. You do not hesitate. You run straight back to the car and get the fuck out of here. Understood?”
The keys jingle softly in her shaking hands, then she closes her fingers around them before jamming them into her pocket.
“Good girl.” As much as entertaining the notion of failure makes me grind my teeth in frustration, I need to cover my bases for her sake.
I nod a moment before we start out again, keeping close to the fence. So close to reaching the gate. I can hardly breathe or keep my thoughts straight with the prospect of everything finally coming together ricocheting through my awareness.
This is it .
No more planning, no more going through it in my head. I’ve performed this little invasion a hundred times.
This is only the hundred and first. No big deal, right?
As much as I hate doing it, I release Scarlet’s hand before crawling the rest of the way now that we’re only feet from the window overlooking the gate.
When my foot slips on a stone and sends it skittering against the chain link, I freeze solid, my heart in my throat.
Scarlet’s soft gasp is lost to the sound of chair legs scraping the floor not twenty feet from where we’re pressed against the ground.
It’s still completely dark out here, the only lights mounted on tall poles inside the compound. When a dark figure fills one of the guardhouse windows, all I can do is hope he assumes an animal did it.
Hopefully, he’s tired after a long, boring shift with another hour and a half to go, so he’s not particularly interested in a harmless stray on the other side of the fence. Every beat of my heart draws the tension out like a blade.
Go, dammit. Go back to what you were doing. Convince yourself that keeping children locked behind a fence topped with barbed wire is a good thing, and you’re a good person for it.
It can’t be more than a few seconds, even though it feels like a year, but finally, he backs away. My chest tightens, but I can breathe again. Still, I wait a slow count of ten before crawling the last few yards.
Once Scarlet’s beside me, I lean close to her ear.
“The gate will begin to slide open automatically. I need you to be ready to run. Go through the second you can fit and duck behind the other side of the building. When he comes out, I’ll take him out.”
I can’t make out her face in the darkness, but I’m fairly confident she’s nervous as hell and probably wide-eyed with fear and dread. It’s not enough to make her back down, though—she nods, her cheek brushing mine as she does.
My racing heart swells with pride.
My angel. My queen .
Here we go. No turning back now.
Christian, if you can hear me while burning in hell, you’d better not have fucked me here.
I squint at the keypad, my fingers sliding over the buttons before I press decisively, entering the numbers he gave up: 1-0-6-7-9.
For one excruciating moment, nothing happens. Scarlet lets out a strangled gasp while my brother’s voice rings out in my head.
You fucked it up, just like I knew you would. I should’ve done it myself.
Instead of a screeching siren signaling a breach, a soft buzz sounds before the gate begins to slide open. We both scramble to our feet before I shove Scarlet toward the growing opening, close on her heels. The guard will be out of his chair by now, going to the window before heading for the door. It’s what I would do.
And it’s what he does, the door to the guardhouse clicking open not even a heartbeat after Scarlet and I round the corner. He wastes no time pounding down the wooden stairs, jogging toward the gate.
Since he leaves the door open, a rectangle of light pours from inside, giving me a clear view of the butt of a gun protruding from his waistband.
He begins reaching for it…
Here goes nothing .
I dart forward, reaching him before he wraps his fingers around the butt. I take hold, instead, while wrapping my left arm around his neck from behind, jerking sharply, cutting off his air so there won’t be any screaming.
He fights or tries to—one thing about the guards around here that I remember from the past is their lack of physical size and strength. There were never any brawny guys in the ranks. They didn’t need physical strength when they had rifles and handguns on their side.
In other words, it doesn’t take long before my prey slumps, his legs turning to rubber. I jerk hard again, as hard as I can, satisfied by the feeling of something giving way under my arm. His windpipe. Satisfaction rings proudly through me.
Quickly, I drag him into the deep shadows behind the guardhouse, leaving him wedged between the foundation and a dumpster after checking him for more weapons. He only had the single gun. Not even a knife.
I wonder if that means Rebecca’s feeling lax, secure. I can only hope so.
Scarlet exhales when I reach her, still crouched in the shadows. She leans against me for a beat before straightening up again. There’s no time for emotions now. The gate opening was quiet enough, but if anyone happens to be up and notices it sitting wide open the way it is, we’re fucked.
Yet I can’t take the chance of closing it to cover our asses—that means having to open it again. We might not have time to get into the guardhouse.
All we can do is keep going, staying low as we cut diagonally from the guardhouse to the shed Christian assured me houses the group’s growing collection of weapons and ammunition.
It never ceases to amaze me that no one thinks the presence of a cache of rifles in what’s supposed to be a peaceful religious community is odd.
Another keypad is mounted beside the door, and it’s with more confidence that I punch in the code. A buzz, a click, and the door unlocks.
There are no windows in here, so I feel safe taking a few seconds to catch my breath and listen for any sounds of running or shouting.
If we had to, we could shoot our way out—a theory confirmed once I find the short chain hanging down from a single bulb in the middle of the ceiling and give it a tug, illuminating the space.
“Holy fuck.” Scarlet covers her mouth with one hand at the sight of three walls covered in mounted rifles. A shelf runs along the walls, too, stacked with handguns and grenades. This is definitely more than a few rifles.
After checking to be sure the Glock I took from the guard is loaded, I hand it to her before choosing a pair of Rugers for myself. I’m not taking any chances.
And considering they’re already loaded, Rebecca’s not taking chances, either. They want to be ready for whatever nameless, faceless threat they’re guarding against. Law enforcement, most likely.
All they did was make it easier for me to quickly arm myself.
“Okay.” I kill the light before joining her at the door. “Rebecca and William stay in the largest building at the far end of the compound.” Much larger, according to the satellite images. But then they would. I’m sure it was the first structure built once New Haven sprang to life. To think, they’ve been out here all these years, rebuilding everything they lost. How sickening.
“I’ll watch out behind you,” she promises.
Her voice is tight with excitement and anticipation.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s enjoying this.
In my head, I go through the plan while opening the door a crack and peering out into the darkened compound.
A pillow to the side of the head to muffle the gunshots.
William will go first—there’s a smaller, attached structure that sprang up a couple of years ago, according to the series of images I studied. Christian mentioned something about him living off the main house. I suppose when he reached a certain age, he wanted to cut Mommy’s apron strings.
But he couldn’t be bothered to cut himself completely free.
We’ll take him out first before going deeper into the main building, where Rebecca currently sleeps in peaceful contentment. I can almost imagine her living in comfort, resting easy in her piety.
She took everything from me and so many others and continues to do so. My teeth grind, and my hand tightens around the gun. I almost have to hold myself back, so eager to sprint across the compound and blow her brains out.
I nod once I’m sure the coast is clear, slipping out, practically hugging the fence running behind one of four longhouses where individuals, couples, and entire families live with thin walls separating them, sharing communal kitchens in each building. Beyond them is an additional pair of structures housing male and female restrooms and showers.
Only the main house has its own private bathrooms.
It’s those communal lavatories that have me worried. People could wander out here at any time of night. I hold Scarlet back at the far corner of the longhouse, across from one of the bathrooms, watching and listening closely for any signs we’re not alone out here.
I’m about to signal for her to follow me before a sharp cracking noise makes my heart lurch and my muscles tense. I know that sound. I know it too well. I hear it in my nightmares all the time.
The noise carries me toward the men’s restroom, my feet moving all on their own. A second crack fills the air louder than the first.
Scarlet’s light footsteps tell me she’s close behind, but it’s the crack of the belt that concerns me more. That and the high-pitched whimpers following it.
A child’s whimpers.
“You were warned about this, weren’t you?” Another crack, so sharp and loud, it makes Scarlet suck in a gasp as we reach the open door. This isn’t a part of the plan, but I can’t walk away. I can’t ignore this. Every fiber inside me pulls me toward the sound. I couldn’t ignore it even if I wanted to.
“It’s not mine! I just found it out here!” The voice of a little boy, no older than eight or ten. Full of pain, tears, and humiliation. He’s so alone, the way I was. “I promise, it’s not my comic!”
“Your comic book or not, you knew it was here, and you snuck out to read it in the middle of the night while your parents slept. Do not waste your breath or your tears.”
The past weaves itself with the present, the voice of the man dishing out the punishment blending with Christian’s until I might as well be in that closet again. Or draped across the spanking chair, my bare ass earning red stripes no matter how I begged for mercy that never came.
“I’m sorry!” The boy weeps, and Scarlet clutches my arm.
We have to go. Keep moving.
There’s a plan at risk, not to mention our lives.
But…
One lash, another, another.
Quick, brisk, stinging.
He’s going to break the skin.
He’s going to scar this kid.
This child.
Rebecca… William… they need to die. This needs to end, and the best way to do that is to kill them. Now, while we have the chance.
Crack! Crack!
The crying ceases, but the fucker is still beating him.
That’s what makes me burst through the door rather than continue to the main house. It’s what makes me seek out the sadistic prick lashing a little boy for being a little boy, lashing him long past the point of punishment.
I’m snarling, panting like a rabid dog by the time I burst into the shower room, where a tall, lanky man hardly older than me holds a belt looped in his hand while a small, skinny little boy—naked from the waist down and covered in crisscrossing welts—lies face down on the tile floor, breathing but otherwise still.
“Who are you?” He’s breathing hard, his face flushed, and his eyes glittering.
I know that light. I’ve seen it before. Pure fucking evil.
Scarlet squeals in the moment it takes me to raise my arm. “Ren!”
Too late. I’m already squeezing the trigger, already firing on all the monsters of my youth. Monsters who still live and breathe in my subconscious and probably will for this little boy, too. This poor kid.
The bullet is already leaving the barrel, crossing the room, and tearing its way through the bastard’s head.
The sound is deafening against so much tile. Tile painted red when the back of his head explodes and splatters the wall behind him. His eyes are wide open, staring in sightless surprise by the time he hits the floor.
My ears ring too loudly for me to hear what Scarlet is saying, but whatever it is has her tugging my arm. Her eyes are wild, and her face pale.
Finally, her voice begins filtering through as the ringing fades. “We have to go. It was too loud.”
Fuck. She’s right.
By the time we burst outside, lights are flipping on behind two windows in the longhouses.
“Shit!” I take her by the hand, sprinting for the nearest longhouse again, running full-out in the narrow space before the wall and the fence.
We have to reach the gate before somebody closes it.
I shouldn’t have brought her.
I shouldn’t have shot him.
He shouldn’t have hit a kid.
I knew you would fuck this up.
River’s voice gets me moving faster, bolting straight for the gate and finding it standing open once we’ve cleared the longhouse. They haven’t discovered the empty guardhouse yet. There’s still a chance.
We pass the arsenal shed at a full run; the sound of raised voices and slamming doors drowns out Scarlet’s panicked gasps for breath.
Just a little farther. A little more.
I shouldn’t have done it.
They’re still alive. I fucking failed.
“Hurry,” Scarlet squeals when we’re only feet from escape, and I understand why. Male voices ring out behind us, followed by pounding footsteps, but it’s too late. We’re already rounding the fence, running in the dark that isn’t so dark anymore. The eastern horizon is beginning to lighten, which at least makes it possible to watch where I’m running.
Though I’d swear my feet don’t touch the ground. I’m flying, weightless, triumphant, even in failure. One less evil bastard. One less abusive prick.
One message sent.
We reach the Jeep, and I forget at first that I gave Scarlet the keys. She unlocks her door, then thrusts them my way before throwing herself inside. Only once we’re pulling away from the old gas station does the blaring of sirens split the early morning air.
I might not have taken out my intended targets, but I made sure they know they’re vulnerable. Let them be the ones to sweat it out for once, dreading the day it’s their turn.
“Are you okay?” I shout, tearing down the road at eighty miles an hour, dust flying in all directions. “Are you injured?”
“I’m fine.” She watches over her shoulder, still panting, almost wheezing. “I’m fine. Jesus, Ren. That was close.”
She’s not telling me anything I don’t know. Another thirty seconds, if that, and this could’ve turned out much differently. I gave in to impulse, to the rage that still bubbles and flows through me like lava beneath a volcano.
“Why did you do that?”
The question leaves me gripping the wheel tighter, my foot heavy on the gas. I wish she understood how complicated a question she’s asked.
I wish I had it in me to tell her.
One day, I will.
This is not that day. Not when the memories are so close to the surface. When I can feel the lashes against my ass and thighs just as clearly as if I were the one lying on that shower floor.
I can’t lift the lid on that horror by discussing it.
I wouldn’t want to hurt her.
It’s better to leave the question unanswered. I’m too concerned with getting us out of here as fast as possible, putting miles between us and the compound.
I’ll come back, and when I do, there will be no more mistakes.
No giving in to rage, no diverting from the plan.
All I have to do now is convince River I made the right move.