Chapter 48
Army
I push Razor through the door into the Cell, entering behind him with Ash and Bane bringing up the rear. Pix is already here with Tats and Toxic, and our captive is already hanging from chains attached to the ceiling.
“You’re fucking dead!” Thunder spits, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to Razor or me, or both of us. But it doesn’t matter.
“I told you to shut the fuck up,” Pix says calmly. Then her hand moves with lightning speed to slash her knife down both his cheek and his chest.
He howls in pain as blood oozes from the slash marks, then glares at her.
“Fucking cunt. Who puts a woman in the role of enforcer, or in any role within the MC, except to suck our cocks?” His hair looks greasy with sweat as his head turns to Ash.
“Oh, that’s right…my fucking incompetent nephew, that’s who. ”
Ash remains silent, crossing his arms over his chest.
Thunder isn’t done, though. “Pix, you fucking cunt, you should be on your knees, sucking all our cocks like the good little whore you should’ve been.”
Her cute little button nose wrinkles in disgust. “Zeus formally adopted me, assface. So, you’re talking to your niece.” Her grin is malicious. “And I’m happy to cut your dick off, just for talking about crossing family boundaries.”
“Later, Pix,” I growl, stalking toward Thunder. My fist explodes into his face, and blood splatters across mine.
“Step outside, please, Tats and Toxic,” Ash orders. “Thanks for your help.”
I assume they leave because I hear the door open and then shut with a resounding bang.
“Where is Guerilla?”
“I’m not going to tell you shit, boy.” Thunder grins, blood coating his teeth.
“You will.” Ash steps forward, regarding his uncle like he’s a piece of shit. “If only because I’ll tell you what happened to Cutt.”
His eyes widen. “I fucking knew you had something to do with his disappearance.”
Ash shrugs. “We didn’t kill him; one of our allies did for his sins against them.”
This is news to me, and it looks like news to Pix, but not to Bane, and I now understand why Ash asked Tats and Toxic to step out.
“You son of a bitch!” Thunder screams. “You fucking—”
I punch him in the face again. “Tell me where Guerilla is.”
Ash might think his approach will get Thunder to talk, but I don’t have time for this. I need answers, and I need them right now.
“Pix, slice his shirt off,” I say, taking control of the interrogation.
“I want Thunder alive, Army,” Ash warns. “He needs to be brought before the club for his sins, and so we can finally kill the threat of the old guard’s mutiny.”
I stalk over to the shelves where supplies are kept, ignoring the wall of tools we use for torturing our enemies. I grab some barbed wire.
When I turn back to Thunder, and he sees what I’m holding, he starts to squirm like a worm on a hook, trying to kick Pix away while staring in fear at me.
This was one of Zeus’ signature methods of getting enemies to talk—wrapping the wire tight around their torso, then dragging it down. No doubt, Thunder had been present more than once while his brother did this.
“I don’t know where Guerilla is!” he shouts.
“I don’t believe you.”
Pix cuts his shirt off, and it lies in ribbons on the stainless-steel floor. Bane has a hold of Razor, who looks like he’s going to puke, and Ash just watches me, letting me have control, as long as I don’t kill his bastard uncle.
Wrapping the wire around Thunder’s torso, right at his exposed armpits, I cinch it tight, not caring that the barbed wire cuts into my hands as I do. Then I grip between the barbs and pull it down his torso, cutting, raking, and pulling out chunks of his flesh as I do.
His choked screams echo off the stainless-steel walls. “I don’t know where he is!” When I grip the wire, ready to pull it up his body, snot and spit fly. “But he’s supposed to be calling me on the burner cell,” he forces out between haggard breaths. “It’s in my room. Loose floorboard under my bed.”
I hear the door open, and Ash gives Tats and Toxic the order to retrieve the burner cell and bring it here.
I return to my task of working Thunder over, but Ash jerks me back. “I need him alive, Army. He won’t survive long if you do another pass over him.”
Thunder’s torso currently looks like shredded meat, with some deep wounds, and blood steadily dripping onto the floor.
I step back, obeying Ash, because I know I will kill Thunder if I continue.
I pace, feeling caged while Ash talks to his piece of shit uncle. Pix watches me, knowing I’m on the edge of losing control, and Bane stands over Razor, who sits on the floor, back propped up against the wall with his head hanging low.
When the door to the Cell opens, it’s Digits, who runs in holding Thunder's burner cell and his laptop. “There are multiple missed calls. I’ve got a tracer running that will pinpoint the origin, even if Guerilla tries to bounce the signal. But I need the call to be connected for at least thirty seconds.”
He hands me the phone, and I see that one number has tried calling the burner cell at least a dozen times. I nod at Ash, and he ties a gag over Thunder’s mouth, preventing him from shouting a warning to Guerilla.
I put the call on speakerphone, and the ringing echoes around the space while I pace.
I feel every weapon on my body: the guns in my holsters, the one shoved in the back of my jeans; the knives in my boots. Murderous rage and toxic worry blend inside me, creating a perfect storm.
I was born and raised in the MC, and I was trained to be a war machine. Every instinct within me is screaming that I need to get to Leeva, warning me I’m going to lose her.
I’ll never survive losing you again.
That truthful statement I made to Leeva feels heavy, like it’s on the verge of becoming a reality.
I feel my body shake; my past PTSD wants to sink its claws into me and pull me under to where it’s quiet and calm.
But that’s a deception. That quiet and calm isn’t real. The only quiet and calm I need is Leeva with me.
Fucking her raw and filthy.
Making tender, sweet love to her.
Watching her sleep and hearing her laugh.
Wiping her tears away and building a family with her, just like my little dove has craved since losing her parents.
“Thunder,” Guerilla’s voice fills the Cell when the call connects. “It’s about goddamn time. Tell me you’re on your way here with my brother.”
Thunder tries to shout, but the gag keeps it muffled.
Digits holds up his laptop and nods, telling me the countdown to keep Guerilla on the line has started.
I keep silent so I don’t tip my brother off that this isn’t Thunder. But rather than demand that Thunder speak, Guerilla shouts, and my blood turns to ice.
“What the fuck, little lamb?!”
There’s a thud and what sounds like a scuffle, and I hear Leeva’s pained cry along with Guerilla’s cursing.
But the thing that has my vision darkening and is trying to drag me into a black pit of hell is the distinct sound of a pump-action shotgun being engaged.
Followed by a blast that rips through the phone speaker and fills the Cell.
“No… No, little lamb… What did you… make me do?” Guerilla’s voice is thick with pain, and like he can hardly get the words out.
“Leeva!” I bellow, not caring—no, that’s not true… I don’t have the presence of mind to even think about not letting Guerilla know it’s me on the other end of the call, as horror and panic explode and take control. “Leeva!” I roar.
Then the call disconnects.
And I do the only thing that will keep me grounded and in the moment as my PTSD claws at me, trying to pull me into sweet oblivion.
I pull the gun from the back of my jeans.
And blow a hole through Thunder’s forehead.