65 - Monty
65
Monty
—
I should be the one protecting them, protecting Frankie. Yet here we are, helpless and cornered by a madman.
My fingers tighten around the syringe. I flex my forearm, exposing the veins that lie beneath the skin.
My heart hammers in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears.
I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life, seen things that would make most men crumble. But this? This is fucked up.
This isn’t a fight I can win with brute strength or cunning. This is surrender, pure and simple.
With a deep breath, I bring the needle to my arm, the sharp point hovering over my flesh. I hesitate, my mind screaming to fight back, to do anything but this.
I look at Leo and Kody.
They nod, holding their syringes.
Fuck.
Together, we push the needles into our veins.
The sharp sting barely registers as the drug enters my bloodstream.
A cold, creeping numbness that spreads from the injection site, flowing through my veins like ice water. It’s slow at first, almost gentle.
Then it hits like a freight train slamming into my chest.
My muscles start to fail, one by one. My fingers go limp, dropping the syringe to the floor with a dull clatter.
Beside me, their needles drop, too.
My legs buckle, and I slouch against the rope, the only thing keeping me upright.
The loss of control is immediate, terrifying, and absolute.
I feel everything. The panic rising in my chest. The frustration boiling over in my mind. But I can’t move. I’m locked inside a shell of flesh and bone that no longer feels like mine.
This is what Frankie felt.
How many times did he rape her while she was unable to fight back?
My breaths come in shallow, labored gasps, each a struggle as my lungs refuse to cooperate. My vision blurs, and I try to focus on her, on the way her lips moved earlier, trying to make sense of it, trying to hold on to anything that might give me hope.
Leo and Kody crumple at the edge of my vision, silent and helpless.
I’ve always been in control. Always. But now I’m nothing but dead weight, slumped in the rope that binds me, ineffectual and vulnerable.
I can’t even lift my head to look Kody or Leo in the eyes. All I can do is sit here, feeling the icy grip of paralysis tighten around me.
“Very good.” With a relieved smile, Rhett leans down to Frankie, his eyes gleaming with sick pleasure as he kisses her brow. “Now we test them.”
I roar, but there’s no sound. There’s nothing. No escape. No way to help her. Just the cold reality that we’re at Rhett’s mercy.
I’ve never felt so powerless in my entire life.
But even as the paralysis sinks in, even as I lose the last remnants of control, I cling to one thing.
Frankie’s face. The determination I saw in her eyes when we arrived. The way her lips moved when they shouldn’t have.
She’s still fighting.
And so am I.
“Fifteen minutes.” Rhett circles the table, passing behind us, sending a shudder through me. “During that time, you need to make a choice.”
He pauses at Frankie’s feet and sets the gun beside her leg.
Now would be a good time to use that fucking knife.
Except none of us can move.
He grips her ankles and slides his hands up her calves.
My heart collapses, and my insides shrivel.
No.
Fuck no.
“I’m going to make love to our girl while you watch.” He parts her legs, and his hands inch higher. “When the drug wears off, you’ll have two options. One, you accept this, accept me, and we make love to her together. Or two…” His gaze sharpens, and he pats the gun on the table. “You lose your shit, and I put a bullet in Frankie’s head. Then I’ll put one in each of you. I’ll burn this cabin to the ground and return to my life in Sitka without you.” He reaches for the sash on her robe. “What will it be? Are you all in, or are you all dead? You have fifteen minutes to make your decision.”
Fury like I’ve never known rages through me. Muscles frozen, limbs heavy as lead, I’m a goddamn inferno.
My heart slams against my ribcage, each beat a bellow of rage ricocheting in my skull.
I can’t move, can’t twitch a finger, but inside, I rip myself apart, thrashing, bucking, and shredding my organs with a ferocity so intense it threatens to obliterate me from within.
Every molecule in my body is ablaze with it, this wrath that builds and builds with nowhere to go. It’s a nuclear bomb scorching the walls of my mind, melting, destroying, burning me alive. I choke on it but can’t release it. Can’t let it out.
I want to grab Rhett by the throat, crush his windpipe until he’s gasping for breath. Until his eyes pop out and his face turns blue. I want to slam my fists into his skull until there’s nothing left but bone and blood. Until I’ve pounded every trace of his sick, twisted smile out of existence.
I strain with all my energy to move my muscles, but they don’t respond. Not even the slightest twitch.
I don’t have to see Leo and Kody to know they’re in the same hell.
Rhett is going to rape her, and all we can do is sit here and burn.
I hate him with a force that defies comprehension. I hate him for what he’s done to Frankie, to Wolf, to all of us. I hate him for what he’s about to do. I hate him for taking away my ability to protect the people I love.
The depth of my hatred is a black hole, sucking in every last shred of light, every last piece of humanity, until all that’s left is darkness and rage.
As Rhett opens Frankie’s robe, something moves near her arm.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see…
Wolf.
He’s awake.
And he’s holding the knife Kody must have passed to him.
His hand moves fast, too fast to register. Before I fully comprehend what’s happening, the blade flies through the air and sinks into the juncture between Rhett’s chest and shoulder.
He stumbles back, staring down at the weapon in shock. Then he glares at Wolf with demonic eyes.
As he tries to yank the knife free, Frankie kicks the gun off the table with a burst of movement that defies everything Rhett thought he controlled.
The weapon clatters to the floor, skidding across the wood.
For a split second, everything is chaos. Rhett’s face twists in fury as he dives for the gun, and Frankie lunges after him, her fingers clawing for it. The IV fluid bag and pump go flying, no longer connected to her.
Leo, Kody, and I are frozen in our seats, unable to move, to help, to do anything but watch as the scene unfolds before us.
Time slows, the seconds stretching into infinity as Frankie and Rhett grapple on the floor. They scramble in and out of view, fighting to gain control of the gun.
I can’t fucking move. I’m trapped in this useless body while the fire inside me rages unchecked, burning hotter and hotter with every second that passes. It’s tearing me apart, this helplessness.
At the edge of my sight, Wolf struggles to free himself, to help, but he’s fumbling. Still fighting the remnants of sedation.
Rhett’s head pops up, the fillet knife still protruding from his shoulder. I see it in his eyes as his hand closes around the gun, the cold resolve of a man willing to do anything to win.
Frankie grabs it at the same time, and a shot rings out, deafening in the enclosed space of the cabin.
The sound echoes off the walls, bouncing around my skull and reverberating in my chest. Rhett and Frankie drop. I can’t tell who fired the shot, can’t see who has the gun, can’t know who’s been hit.
All I can do is sit here, helpless, as the world around me teeters on the brink of oblivion.
In the next breath, Oliver appears in my periphery.
The Ghost.
Thank fucking God. Finally.
He breezes toward Rhett and Frankie, a rifle in hand. He looks like he just stepped out of a war zone, his face streaked with dirt and his clothes torn from the descent. He wears a utility vest loaded with ammo and a parachute harness still half-attached to his back.
It was the only way we could bring him.
He sneaked onto the plane like a ghost, parachuted out of it as we approached the hills, and hiked as fast as he could into this hell.
Rhett rises to his feet, still fumbling with the gun, and I realize the fired shot came from Oliver.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Oliver raises the rifle and fires again.
The sound of the shot cracks through the air, and the pistol flies out of Rhett’s hand. He lets out a howl of pain, clutching his wrist as blood pours from his palm. His eyes widen as he stares at the gaping hole where his weapon once was.
Then his complexion pales with panic.
Tucking his bleeding hand under his arm, he turns to flee. His footsteps are frantic and staggering as he makes a desperate dash for the door.
Oliver is faster. He moves like a predator, his rifle trained on Rhett’s back, finger hovering over the trigger, ready to end this once and for all.
But before he fires, Frankie jumps to her feet, her scream tearing through the cabin. “Don’t shoot!”
Oliver freezes, his rifle still aimed at Rhett’s retreating form.
Confusion contorts his face as he glances back at her, his brow furrowed. “He’s getting away!”
Her lips curl into a crazed smile, and she laughs. It’s a sound I’ve never heard from her. A sound more feral than human.
“There’s no escaping Hoss.” Her expression empties, and an eerie calmness settles over her. “Let him run .”
Oliver hesitates, clearly torn between his instincts and Frankie’s cryptic command.
“The bombs,” she says quickly.
“I will disarm them.”
“Do not squeeze that trigger.” Something in her eyes, something dark and knowing, makes him lower his rifle.
The front door slams shut as Rhett disappears into the night.
Frankie turns to look at us, her gaze sharp and intent. The air feels charged, electric, with the flames of something inevitable, something primal.
“My men want to hunt.” She bares her teeth.
The room thickens with an unspoken understanding.
The night is far from over.
The drug still has me paralyzed, but inside, the fire burns hotter than ever. Because I know, deep in my bones, that this hunt won’t end until Rhett pays for everything he’s done.
And when that time comes, there won’t be any mercy.