Chapter 34
Kane had driven to a point, then switched positions with Ken. Now they were pulling up to a huge building. The warehouse sat at the edge of town like a rot that everyone had agreed to ignore. Dead street, no lights, no cars, no signs of life...vacant on purpose.
Ken slowed the car as they pulled up, his hands shaking so badly that Kane could hear the faint rattle of the steering wheel.
Kane sat in the passenger seat, wrists cuffed in front of him, a thick chain threaded between the cuffs just long enough to wrap around someone’s throat. His idea of a weapon.
“Look at me,” Kane said calmly.
Ken flinched and did as he was told.
“If you even think about doing something stupid,” Kane continued, his voice low and even, “I will kill you. Not fast or clean.
Ken swallowed hard. “I told you—I just want my daughter back.”
“So do I,” Kane replied. “That’s the only reason you’re still breathing. And don’t forget you are the reason she is here, you piece of shit.”
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Ken’s voice shook with emotion. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
“Well, it did, and it’s all on you,” Kane growled. “Any man who would use his wife or child to get out of a mess of his own doing is a worthless piece of shit.”
Kane didn’t have a soft spot for many things. He had seen too much evil in this world, but kids, the elderly, and women were off fucking limits. You fuck with them while he was anywhere near, and you would pay dearly.
Ken pulled to a stop near a loading bay.
The warehouse windows were blacked out, and steel plates were welded over some of them.
The air smelled like oil and old rain. Kane scanned everything automatically—angles, shadows, exits, and one thing caught his attention.
There were stacks upon stacks of shipping containers across the parking lot, looking really out of place. Big red flag.
Ken got out of the SUV and walked around to open Kane’s door.
There were cameras, but Ken didn’t know if they were working.
Kane would bet his ass they definitely were working.
All he needed was to get inside. That was it, get him inside with all the players, and then it was Kane’s turn to take the lead.
Ken led the way to the warehouse door that loomed ahead, which was half-lit by a flickering security light.
“Remember,” Kane said quietly behind him, the chain between his cuffs rattled. “You lie wrong, hesitate, or try to run, this ends with you bleeding out on that concrete.”
Ken nodded without turning around; his voice shook as if he were about to cry. “I know.”
Reaching the door, Ken knocked three times, and the door creaked open.
One man stood just inside. Kane assessed the situation immediately.
The man was big and armed with nothing more than a huge hunting knife clipped to his belt.
Kane’s eyes moved beyond them to the open space.
No one was in sight, and he knew there were no cameras.
They were all outside because this fucker Farrar was arrogant enough not to think someone could breach his area.
He looked Kane over and frowned. “Where’s the bitch?”
Ken swallowed. “I, ah, she got away, but I got him. I figured Farrar would be happy to have one of them.”
“You’re a dead man,” He laughed, shaking his head. “That wasn’t the deal. The bitch for the kid.”
“But he said he would forgive my debt if I brought him in.” Ken started shaking in fear, and Kane realized Ken wasn’t going to be much help.
“You really are a piece of shit. Not even asking about your daughter.” The man said, disgusted, and Kane had to agree with the asshole. The man looked down at Kane’s cuffs. “Those cuffs silver?”
“Yeah,” Ken answered with a nod. “Where is my daughter?”
“Shut the fuck up. Farrar is waiting for you in the office.” The man said, eyeing Kane. “I thought you Warriors were supposed to be badass.” He reached for the chain, which was a big mistake.
Kane moved fast, too fast for a man who thought the cuffs made him harmless. He wrapped the chain around the guy’s wrist, yanked him forward, and then leaned down so the asshole could hear him clearly.
“I’m not a fucking Warrior.” He growled just as he drove his knee up hard. Bone cracked. Before the scream could fully leave the man’s throat, Kane twisted, hauled him down, and slammed his head into the concrete, silencing him.
Ken stared at the body, breathing hard. “Jesus—”
“Walk,” Kane ordered Ken, stepping over the body.
Once further inside, the warehouse opened up into a wide, cavernous space.
It was completely empty. Ken led them toward the back, and that’s when Kane heard voices.
Loosening his body, he hung his head, trying to look less threatening, but still scanned the area, taking in everything.
Lights buzzed overhead. It suddenly became silent as they walked into another large space.
“Get Farrar!” A man, ordered as Kane, slowly lifted his head.
“So that’s a Warrior, huh?” A man snorted, but Kane didn’t even look his way. He was getting sick and fucking tired of people thinking he was a damn Warrior. One thing was for sure: Farrar had definitely figured out that Monica was playing him. “Not impressed if this dumbass could bring him in.”
“Heard they were overrated.” Another man laughed. “I mean, if silver handcuffs can make him act like a bitch, he ain’t much.”
“What is this?” Farrar’s voice had Kane’s focus zeroed in. It was go time. “Where’s Monica?”
“She got away,” Ken answered, his voice sounding like a scared kid. Jesus, this guy was worthless. “But I brought him in. Don’t worry, I’ll get Monica. I just want my girl back, Farrar.”
“Are you fucking insane?” Farrar bellowed, his face full of rage. “Dead. I said bring him in dead. Not alive, you moron. And Monica for the girl, not the Warrior.”
Kane knew that his team and some of the Warriors were here somewhere; he just wasn’t sure where. But he had a feeling eyes were on them, which made him lift his head and look straight at Farrar.
“I’m not a fucking Warrior,” Kane’s eyes turned black in an instant. “I’m a Dark Guardian, and you fucked with the wrong guy.”
“Kill him!” Farrar pointed at Kane as if his guys were too stupid to know who he was talking about.
Kane felt a shift in the air. It was show time.
Ken stammered something useless, panic bleeding into his voice. Kane didn’t let him finish. He grabbed the back of Ken’s jacket and shoved him forward hard enough that Ken stumbled straight into the first man. As they collided, Kane moved into the chaos, heading straight for him.
The chain snapped tight as Kane swung his arms, the metal whistling through the air.
It wrapped around a wrist, twisting and pulling as the sound of bone cracking filled the air.
The gun clattered across the concrete. Kane yanked the man in and drove his forehead into the bridge of the guy’s nose, and felt cartilage collapse.
Another rushed him from the side.
Kane ducked, spun, and sent the chain snapping out again. This time it caught high, biting into a throat. He planted his foot and hauled back, using his whole body. The man clawed uselessly at the metal before Kane slammed him backward into a crate and let him drop.
Shots rang out. Not aimed, but panicked.
Bullets tore into the walls. Concrete exploded beside Kane’s head. Dust and fragments sprayed the air. He felt the heat of one round pass close enough to singe his sleeve.
But none of them landed because he didn’t let them.
Kane kept moving but stayed inside their reach, where guns were clumsy, and fear made men slow.
He used his elbows and knees; the chain was an extension of his intent.
It wrapped around another man’s arm, yanked him off balance, then snapped tight around his neck as Kane pivoted and used him as a shield.
A bullet punched through the man’s back. Kane shoved the body aside and surged forward.
Someone tried to tackle him, but Kane dropped his weight, drove his shoulder into the man’s chest, and sent him skidding across the floor. Another came in high, but Kane caught the punch, twisted, and slammed the man face-first into the concrete until he stopped moving.
The warehouse erupted into full chaos now—shouts, boots scrambling, men slipping in blood and debris. He knew his team had arrived, but Kane didn’t slow. He couldn’t.
A man lunged from behind, arms locking around Kane’s chest. Kane let him. He drove backward hard, slamming the man into a support beam, then brought the chain up and around, jerking back until the grip loosened and the man collapsed, gasping.
Kane turned. More were coming. He charged straight into them.
The chain lashed out as he disarmed one man, broke another, dropped a third with a brutal headbutt that echoed through the warehouse.
Then—resistance. The chain went taut, caught on something solid.
Kane looked up and met the eyes of the man holding the other end, a grim smile on his face as he braced himself.
“Got you,” the man said.
Kane smiled back as he surged forward, closing the distance so fast the man barely had time to react. Kane drove his knee up hard, felt ribs give, then twisted sharply and pulled.
With a violent snap, Kane broke the chain connecting the cuffs.
He wrapped the loose end of the chain around his fist and plowed into the remaining men with devastating force.
One went down choking. Another dropped, clutching his knee.
And the third never even got his hands up before Kane took him apart.
When it was over, bodies littered the floor.
Kane stood in the center of it, chest heaving, chain hanging loose from his hand, blood—none of it his—splattered across his arms. He felt his brothers standing behind him. His eyes scanned the carnage only to see Ken lying lifeless with his eyes wide open, blood covering his chest.
He lifted his head slowly, and the world narrowed to one singular purpose.
End the bastard.