Chapter 53
Bane
Slade is as pale as a ghost, and I turn my attention away from wanting to curb-stomp that smug bastard, Granger Glass. I know part of my response to him is because he was faked married to my woman, and it’s irrational, but I can’t help the possessiveness that rips through me.
However, I need to ignore him right now, because Army has news that won’t be about unicorns pissing rainbows based on his grim expression.
“Len had news.” He clutches his phone, and I notice that the screen is black, indicating he disconnected the call from her.
Slade’s friends have quizzical looks, wondering who Len is, but they wisely remain silent.
Slade leans into me, and I don’t think she’s even aware of it. Her subconscious knows that I will protect her with my last breath.
“Go on, Army,” Ash orders.
Army takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes on Slade, likely not wanting to trigger her, and my unease ramps up. “Len has already reached out to the Broker.”
“We already know Randolph Vanderall took out a bounty on Slade,” Granger interjects, but shuts his mouth when Army levels him with a look that would make his Marine superiors proud.
“Yes, but Len has more intel, straight from the Broker himself,” Army replies, his voice cold, but turning back to Slade, his look softens. “And as a result, Len and her team are coming here.”
“Why?” Ash and I ask at once.
“Because Slade is going to need all the help she can get.”
My protectiveness of Slade takes on a new life, and I hold her tighter, knowing she wants nothing more than to run to protect us all. “What are we dealing with?”
He looks around the room, then back at me and Slade. “I think we need some privacy for this.”
“Absolutely not,” Breaker grinds out. “Slade is our sister.”
Her friends, along with Tyr and Sten, add their protests.
Slade has paled further, and she’s trembling, but her voice is strong and steady when she addresses them. “Breaker, Tyr, and Sten, please take Camber and the guys to get some coffee and something to eat. Please,” she stresses when none of them move.
Breaker’s face hardens with worry, but he nods and jerks his chin at his brothers to corral the others toward the door. Once they’re outside, he meets my eyes with an unspoken look that says, ‘Whatever this is, do whatever you have to do to help her,’ then closes the door.
Army points at the couch. “Have a seat, Slade.”
I guide her there, sitting her in my lap instead of on the cushion beside me. “What are we dealing with, Army?”
“There’s a video,” he says. “Randolph shared it with the Broker when he was taking out the contract. Len says it’s not good.”
“I want to watch it first before Slade even lays eyes on it,” I demand, rigid.
“No.” She swivels and levels me with an angry look. “This is about me. I deserve to not be kicked out of the room while you all view this and make decisions based on my life.”
“Our life. And you’re mine to protect, Slade, and that includes pre-screening that video to—”
“Not a snowball’s chance in hell.” Her nails dig into my wrist as she glares at me, and she holds out her other hand to Army for the phone.
Army looks at me, and I grit my teeth, but finally nod. He passes me the phone, but when I hesitate to press play, Slade says, “Do it, Bane.”
With a deep breath, I press play, and as soon as it starts, I know it’s a mistake.
It’s the inside of a rustic cabin with a woman tied down on a table coated in blood. Her wounds are extensive, with parts of her body missing chunks of flesh, while others have been skinned, and there are burn marks all over her.
Antwane Vanderall is behind another woman standing at the table. While her face is lowered, hidden from the camera, we can see her body is bloody, with visible slash marks.
It happens in a blink of an eye. Slade’s eyes remain glued to the screen as she snatches it away, scrambling behind Ash’s desk, protected from the rest of us.
“Slade! Don’t!”
It’s seconds, but it’s slow motion, and I can’t stop it.
“It’s Number Thirteen,” she whispers. “I was never allowed to get close to the Numbers…always chained to the wall… Oh god… Oh god.” She lifts her head and stares at me with abject horror. “I killed her… I killed Number Thirteen.”
The phone clatters to the floor as I reach Slade. I catch her as she clutches her head, and I know what’s happening inside her.
The screams she’s been able to control and cage, the wails of torment and tortured pain…it’s all breaking free to overwhelm her defenses.
Her eyes are as tortured as Number Thirteen’s were in the still image I glimpsed, but I see the vacancy entering them as her mind tries to protect and dissociate from the carnage as her demons are unleashed.
Terror unlike anything I’ve ever felt in my life rattles me to my very core. If I can’t reach her this time, I know I’ll lose her for good; she’ll be trapped in that mental prison of hers.
“Slade.” I cradle her against me. “Slade, come back, baby.”
At first, she’s unresponsive, but I don’t relent—I continue touching her and talking to her, telling her how strong she is, reminding her that she can fight and control this. That Antwane doesn’t get to win.
Her nails dig into my chest, telling me that she hears me, even if she’s still suspended in that dark pit of hell inside her mind. I sit, holding her on the couch, telling her how much I love her, how strong and brave she is. How I’ll protect her with everything I’ve got.
She finally whispers, “Bane.”
It’s a broken, fractured sound, but she’s coming back. “I’m here, baby. Come back to me.”
When I feel that she’s mentally back and present, I kiss her closed eyes. “Rest for a moment. I’m not going anywhere.”
In the time it took to pull Slade back from her hell, my best friends had watched with pained concern. I motion to Army to give me the phone, so I know what we’re dealing with, and he hands it to me, muted.
I watch the video multiple times.
Slade holds the knife that slides across Number Thirteen’s throat; however, Antwane grips her hand, forcibly controlling it, and makes her make the cut. Slade is no more responsible for that woman’s death than the knife itself. There’s only one person responsible, and that’s Antwane Vanderall.
None of that guilt deserves to be placed on Slade, but I know she won’t feel that way, which is one of my biggest concerns. The other concern is why Randolph would include this video as part of the bounty. What’s his endgame?
And if Antwane had recorded his torture and kill sessions, then why hadn’t Randolph and his family been able to identify Slade in the past two years?
Unless this is the only recording Antwane took, and it doesn’t show any of Slade’s face.
I look to Army for answers. His face is angry and grim. “I had no idea what that video actually was; Len only told me to go into it blind to get my first gut instinct impressions. I’m fucking sorry.” He looks at Slade with a pained, guilty look.
“Why did Randolph include it with the contract?”
“The instructions were that whoever captured Slade was to show her this video before delivering her to Randolph.”
“The goal was to break Slade,” Pix guesses. “Antwane was clearly doing that with how he tortured Slade psychologically, and Randolph plans to continue that for whatever this sick game is. Hell, maybe Randolph is part of the serial killer shit with his brother. His partner in crime.”
“And Randolph didn’t use an alias or a go-between to take out the contract?” Ash frowns.
“He’s part of a multigenerational, elite-of-the-elite family and views himself and the Vanderalls as untouchable,” Digits says. “I’ve been building a profile for all of them, and he’s by far the most narcissistic and delusional about their power and privilege.”
Slade makes a noise, and I turn my full attention back to her as my best friends continue to quietly strategize. Her eyes are open; they’re lucid and pained.
“What happened wasn’t your fault, Slade.” Her tears push forth, and I stress, “Antwane forced your hand. It’s on him, not you.”
“That’s why I could never remember her death…my brain blocked it.” Her green orbs are a well of haunted pain. “Why would Antwane do that? Wasn’t the way he tortured me enough?”
I cup her cheek, and she leans into my touch, letting me hold her while she tries to process this devastating revelation.
When she finally looks at me, I know what she’s about to say.
“I can’t stay here; not with a contract taken out on me and people knowing I’m here.”
The dire reality of this punches me in the gut, but there’s no way I’m letting Slade go at this alone.
Army crouches down in front of us. “Slade, I’m so sorry about that video—”
“I know,” she cuts him off, looking at him intently, and I see the wheels turning in her mind as she compartmentalizes and focuses on the threat.
“You said Len and her team were coming here to help? Maybe they can help me disappear.”
“Absolutely fucking not,” I snarl.
She twists to stare at me, like I have five heads. “Bane, I can’t stay here.”
“You’re not lying down and taking this, peanut.” Ash looks at me.
A hundred unspoken words are in that look, and I know my brother and I are on the same page. He has my back as I have Slade’s. My woman. My every-fucking-thing.
I turn Slade so she’s looking at me. “Wherever you go, whatever fight you have, I’m there, right by your side.”
“Bane, you can’t come with me; you need to stay and defend the MC.”
I brush my thumb over her cheek. “I’m not leaving you, and you’re not leaving me. And it’s only until we figure out a game plan with Len.”
“Shit.” Pix whistles through her teeth. “This will be a shitshow once the bounty goes live—”
“Say hello to the shitshow.” Digits looks up from his phone. “The contract just hit the market. It’s an open bounty.”
Fuck.
Which means it won’t be just one person or group after Slade; it’s open hunting. First come, first serve. We could have criminals swarming the city to hunt down Slade, not to mention the criminals who are already here.
“Ash, you need to give the police commissioner a heads up,” I say. “And get Massimo to let the FBI know that San Francisco is about to become the destination for criminals.”
“I’ll do that as soon as we have a plan for you,” Ash says to Slade.
“I can be the distraction,” Pix volunteers. “Slade and I are roughly the same build. I could wear a short brown wig. People need to think Slade left the Havoc Guardians’ compound and our protection.”
Slade pushes to stand, and I reluctantly let her. “I need to leave here, not just make it look like I left.” She turns to Army. “How soon until Len and her team are here?”
“Six hours.”
Slade paces as she bites her lip, obviously plotting and planning. Then she asks Ash, “Can I have full access to Badger and his shop?”
“Of course.” He rocks back on his heels. “What do you have planned?”
“Looks like that little Subaru may just be a rally car after all.” She smiles. “My friends and I can get it ready with Badger in the next few hours.”
While she looks steady, I know she’s running on adrenaline right now and not allowing herself to fully process that video or the revelation. Once this imminent threat is dealt with, she’ll need to face that. And I’ll be there when she does.
I stand. “What do you need me to do?”
She bites her lip, and I know she’s going to insist that my place is here with the MC, so I wrap my arms around her waist. She fits into me perfectly—her small body is firm yet soft, molding to the hard, solid angles of my big frame.
“I’m with you. Anywhere and everywhere you go. Ash, Pix, Army, and Digits will ensure the MC is protected.” I bend down and press my mouth to hers. “Till death do us part, and even after, I’m yours and you’re mine, Slade.”