40. Mason
40
MASON
W e found two vehicles parked in the back, but no one was outside. Heading for the back door, Channing plastered himself against the wall. I was behind him, followed by Brett. As we waited, Channing turned and gave us a bunch of hand signals.
Awesome .
Neither of us spoke that language.
He waited for us to either respond, but we stayed put. I raised my eyebrows. Brett leaned out behind me and shook his head slowly, holding up a hand. We were clueless, not his normal bounty hunter crew. He groaned softly, giving us an exasperated look.
I frowned and edged around him, because if he was going to act like that, I had no problem going in and kicking ass without him. Brett followed, but Channing grabbed my arm just before I touched the door. He pulled me back, shaking his head.
We could hear voices from inside, and Channing didn’t like this door for some reason. He edged backward. Once we were far enough away, I asked, “Why don’t we all try a different door?”
He shook his head. “No. We might need backup.”
I fixed him with a look. “I’m willing to risk it.”
Channing was still frowning. “I don’t know. This whole place feels wrong. I’ve heard chatter that there’s a new fighting ring, besides the one the Red Demons run. If that’s this place, and if Moreaux is behind it, he’s got backing from someone else.”
“We’re not your usual crew,” I told Channing. “You can’t treat us like Moose or Congo.”
Brett smacked his fist into his palm.
Channing and I looked at him.
“What?” He lowered his hands.
“Okay. Let’s spread out,” Channing said. “Find an entry point and move in. Keep hidden. Mason, this is your show. We’ll wait for you to move first.”
I had no problem with that. “Got it.”
Channing grunted. “Move out.”
If Logan were here, he would’ve done his own version of hand signals right now just to play around. He’s coming , I reminded myself. Channing went back to the original door while Brett and I separated. He went to the east side of the building. I headed for the front.
We ended up meeting in the middle.
He scoffed at me, whispering, “Good plan.”
“Shut up.” I waited for him to get to my side and reached forward, testing the doorknob. It opened with a click. I held the door and slowly opened it, inch by inch, until I could get a better look inside.
Phillip Moreaux was yelling.
I edged the door open enough that I could slip inside, into what seemed like a coat room of some sort—a small room with another doorway without a door.
“You’re nothing but a failure,” Moreaux shouted.
There were sounds of running and panting, some cursing from the next room. “You think you tried your best tonight? You did nothing. You are nothing, ” he continued, his voice was hoarse. “You’re going to keep going until I tell you to stop. You hear me, you piece of shit?”
Brett stopped. His eyes went dead, and every part of him was rigid. I moved ahead to look around the corner. It was another fighting ring. A cage had been set up in the middle with metal walls that went high in the air. Old sweat, dirt, and the smell of blood lingered in the air. Two boys were in the cage. Shirtless. Their hands and feet taped. They only wore shorts. Their chests heaved and sweat and blood trickled down their faces. Axel and Steele.
The younger Moreaux was running back and forth on the side of the cage. He tagged down and sprinted back. Fuck. This place was hot, and Phillip was making his kid do shuttle runs?
I pulled my phone out, half of me going numb, the other half becoming bloodthirsty. I angled it in front of me and hit record.
“You’re going to keep fucking running until I tell you to stop!” he screamed. Then he turned toward the others. “Keep fucking hitting each other! You think you’re getting off easy? You hit until you’re red and raw.”
Axel glared at him, his hands jerking up before he stopped himself.
“What?” Phillip stomped over to him. “What, Axe?! You think you’re going to fucking tattle to your daddy? You think he gives a fuck about you? You want to stay friends with my son? Come to my house? Eat my food? Drink my liquor? You don’t think I’m aware that you basically live at my house, and I’m just going to be okay with it? You fucking hit that kid or you’re losing all privileges. And you,” he spat as he focused on Steele. “You want to keep living at my place, using my address, letting my family name cover for your lies, and your sister’s, then you get fucking swinging too. The one who knocks the other one out won’t have to do shuttle runs with this piece of loser shit my sperm brought into the world. As of now, your efforts are pathetic. You’re nothing. Why the fuck are you even here? You fucking little boys can’t do a goddamn thing for yourselves. Parasites. Every goddamn one of you. Burdens. You’re at my house because your parents don’t give a fuck where you are. If they did, you wouldn’t be here. Well, you’re going to earn your keep tonight. Keep fucking running ! You hear me?” An ugly laugh burst from his chest. His face twisted in a smile that wasn’t a smile. It was soulless. “You’re going to keep going until I tell you to stop ! At this rate, we’ll be here all fucking night.” Another sick-sounding laugh chortled from him.
The boys started swinging at each other again.
His kid kept running. Head down. Sweat dripping.
If they kept at this for even another hour, they were going to pass out. All three of them played nearly the entire football game earlier.
Brett started rumbling next to me.
Right there with you, buddy.
“No!” Moreaux was screaming again. His feet scraped over the dirt that was packed on the floor. “That’s not how you swing—” He cut himself off, swearing viciously. “Get out. Get the fuck out. I’ll show you how to fucking hit.”
Oh, hell no. I’d heard enough.
He got in the cage, and instead of taping his hands like he’d had the boys do, he put on boxing gloves. Boxing. Gloves.
Axel remained in the cage and Steele climbed out, but he stood by the steps, not going far. He saw us first, and he gulped, paling, but he didn’t move. Beltraine collapsed on the ground, his chest heaving as he seemed unable to get enough air. Brett went to his side when the kid started wheezing.
I remained locked on where Phillip was snarling at Axel, and I hated to do this, but I raised my phone. The camera was on, still recording. Steele jerked himself out of frame.
“This is how you do it!” Phillip roared. “Bend your knees. Come on. Bend your fucking knees.” He swung.
Axel dodged, and in that moment, he saw what was happening. I felt bad, and I raised an eyebrow at him. Was he okay with this? The kid was smart. He gave me a slight nod and bounced to the side, making Phillip Moreaux move so his back was to me.
Thank you, buddy. I moved closer, getting everything.
He swung. This time, Axel couldn’t dodge fast enough.
I felt the anger rising. That darkness in me, the one that helped me survive Fallen Crest, came to the surface, and I was livid . Still, I forced myself to wait. I needed a little more. He’d get heat for the verbal abuse. But he could say things got out of control. That he was only trying to help get them into better condition.
He could say that he went in the cage to help him out. Show him better form. It was just a little sparring. Some boxing. Right?
So yeah because I wasn’t going to let him get away with this. We either used this recording and go the legit route to punish Moreaux, or I’d be dishing out my own personal punishment. If we went that way, that’d be a risk for myself and my family. Remembering Logan’s words, I held back because I needed enough to bury him.
Just a little more.
Phillip roared and he began raining blow after blow, pushing Axel into the corner. His shout was savage. “I’ll show you how to take a hit, you little fuck. All you little fucks. I’m going to ream your assholes open. You’re going to—”
Axel’s knees gave out, and he slumped to the ground. Fuck. Phillip was going to stop… No, he wasn’t. He knelt down, spreading his knees to give himself a better base and raised his hand again— No! I snarled. I was there in a flash. Using the side, I gripped it and launched myself over the ropes, right into the cage.
He froze at the sound, but it was too fucking late.
I took him down. As soon as he was clear, Axel scrambled away.
He tried fighting me, rolling, but I just smiled. Grabbing hold of his arms, I yanked them backward and twisted them. Something snapped as I twisted his body, and threw him into the far side of the cage. He stayed, the wind was knocked out of him.
My phone hit the ground.
I glanced at Axel behind me as Channing ran in. He threw himself into the cage and, giving me a cursory look, went straight to Axel. He scooped him up, carrying him out of the cage. “You okay?” he shouted at Steele.
Steele gaped at me, his eyes just blinking. Wide. His jaw slacked.
“Kid!” Channing snapped his fingers in front of his face.
It did nothing.
“His name is Steele,” I said.
Channing twisted around. “Steele! Wake up, kid.” He had to get in his face before he registered him. As he did, Steele jumped backward, cursing.
“What the hell is going on here?” Phillip growled, wincing as he used the chain-link of the cage to pull himself up. Some blood trickled down his face. He reached up, touching his forehead. Pulling his hand away, there was a blank look in his eyes, as if he didn’t understand what he was seeing. He was gone. I saw it now. The anger was too much. The guy wasn’t in the room. He’d let his monster out too.
Difference was that his monster hurt kids. Mine hurt monsters like him.
Punishment. Well-intentioned discipline. Training . I had no doubt he would use those words to excuse his behavior. All would be a lie.
“Mase,” Channing barked.
I whipped around, seeing Axel bent over and vomiting. Steele looked back at me, too stunned to do anything more.
Channing jerked his hand toward Moreaux. “KO that piece of shit.”
“You were going to show that kid how to take a punch,” I taunted, my voice cold. “Let me help you out with that.” I didn’t give any more warning before bringing my fist down. I got him clear across the cheekbone, through his nose, and his body swung all the way around before falling to the cage floor.
Thud .
He was out.
I stared at him, wishing he’d open his eyes again. Round two. I was game, but nope. He was unconscious. Turning, I bent down and swept up my phone, seeing the recording stopped at some point. I looked down at it and decided to send it to Logan. It’d be an early gift for when he arrived in LA. He’d have all sorts of ideas what to do with it when—a thunk sounded.
My head whipped up.
Something fell from the rafters in the ceiling, a whishing sound.
It took a second for it to register, but it was a blanket. Blankets. Plural. Someone was… Was I actually seeing this? Someone was using them to slide to the ground. I looked up. Where had they come from? There were some rafters above, but this person came from the ceiling. What the—they landed with an oomph and a grunt.
She fell to her knees, but quickly got up, throwing her arms in the air. “I’m good. I’m here.”
A second person slid down after her, and this one ended on her feet. She was also wearing cowboy boots.
The first person grabbed her, steadying her.
The first person was my wife. “That was so good,” she gushed, clutching onto the second arrival.
My wife was here.
My. Wife.
I was going to explode.
She brushed off her leggings and blew out a breath, pushing some of her hair off her forehead. She’d been grinning, almost stupidly grinning, until she saw the look on my face.
She coughed and stepped back. Her mouth pursed. “Uh…”
“ Heather ?” Channing growled, wrapping his wife in his arms. She was the second person to have made a dramatic entrance from the ceiling.
From. The. Ceiling.
I glared at Sam. How the fuck had they gotten up there? Was there anyone else up there?
“Um…” Sam glanced at Steele before doing a double-take and giving him a longer frown.
Then we heard a shout from outside, something snapped, and the warehouse’s main door that was used for trucks, shot up.
Two people stood in the middle of the opening.
I recognized these two as well.
So did Sam as she froze.
Maddy stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest, her chin raised. She looked too fucking cool for school. Max was with her. He was a lot more wary and a lot more checked into reality as he saw his mom, who was now motionless in his dad’s arms. He winced, closing his eyes and pressing a hand to his forehead.
My daughter, on the other hand, smirked. Her eyes were alive, her body was practically vibrating. “I don’t know what we’re doing, but this is the most exciting night of my life. If we’re becoming a real life family of vigilantes, I am in .”