Chapter 18 Priest
I’m stripped, cuffed, and chained to the floor.
The cell is pitch black. No sound. Just the fucking drip of some pipe overhead that’s been torturing me longer than the motherfucker who put me in here.
I don’t know how many hours have passed. I’ve pissed myself twice. Maybe three times.
I’m hungry. I’m tired. I’m weak.
“One-eight-seven, it’s time to play.”
My body responds before my mind does. Spine straight. Eyes forward. Hands flat to the concrete.
Don’t speak. Don’t twitch. Don’t breathe unless told.
“ONE-EIGHT-SEVEN!”
Louder. Closer. I brace for it—the whip across my back, the boot to the ribs, the steel table pressing into my spine.
My fingers twitch against the floor. The cuff rattles.
“Priest. PRIEST.”
I snap out of it just enough to suck in a breath. Not hell. Not Valcross.
“I’ve been talking to you for five fucking minutes.”
I blink again and finally register the other cell across from me. Raze’s silhouette half-lit in the dim hallway light that bleeds through the bars of the Depths.
He’s chained up too. Bleeding from the temple. Shirtless. Eyes locked on mine. My leg twitches. My back arches. Every inch of me is vibrating to move, to kill, to escape.
My tongue scrapes over my teeth. I need—
“I need some fucking gum.”
Raze lets out an exasperated breath. “You think I’m hiding a fucking pack in my ass?”
I don’t answer. I don’t look at him. I don’t look at anything.
Especially not the cracks in the wall to my right.
Because if I start counting, it’s over.
1. 2. 3. 4. 5…
No.
I shove my head back against the wall with a dull thud. Pain flashes behind my eyes. Motherfucker. Stay present. Stay here.
“You swear you didn’t help her?”
I roll my jaw. Metal grinds in the cuff when I yank on it. Just once. Just enough to stop myself from lunging at the bars like a fucking animal.
“Say that shit again. See what happens.”
“I have to ask,” he snaps back. “Because if you did, I need to know.”
“I didn’t fucking help her.”
“Well who the fuck did?”
I laugh, a dry, hollow sound that dies in my chest. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”
The sound of boots fills the corridor as Sterling’s fucking dogs march toward my cell. I see them before the lock turns. I’m already grinning.
“Hope you assholes have strong fucking holds.” I lift my head to meet their eyes. “Because the second these cuffs come off, I’m ripping off every one of your fucking limbs.”
They yank me up, slam me against the wall, cinch my arms tight in the restraints like it’s gonna do a damn thing. I buck hard—on purpose. Can’t break free, but the flinch in one of their eyes? That shit’s mine. The stumble in his step as he clamps my ankles, mine too.
I lean forward, smiling. “You look scared.”
Across the hall, Raze lunges for one of them. He takes a fist to the face and laughs. “Sluts hit harder than that, you weak fuck.”
The sound of him spitting blood hits the concrete before the chains jerk him back into place. Another Sovereign sends a boot into his ribs. That laugh dies with a grunt.
They drag us from our cells and yank us along.
“Take ‘em up one at a time,” one mutters, gripping me tighter. “These psychos can’t be trusted.”
I’m shoved into the elevator. Guns stay aimed at me the entire ride.
Keep those barrels warm, boys. Because the second I’m loose—I’m bleeding them dry along with anyone associated with their fucking names.
We reach the surface, and the night air punches me in the face as the doors open. A blacked-out armored truck sits waiting, the engine humming. Sterling stands smugly next to it.
I’m thrown into the truck, wrists chained, ankles bound, muscles tense with a need to kill. I twist and plant myself on the bench, teeth bared as I’m strapped in. Raze gets shoved in next, dragged by two men trying not to look rattled.
Then I see Arsen and Wolff. They step into the open truck bay, side by side. Sterling follows behind them like the goddamn Emperor of Shit Mountain.
“I trust you two have the transport handled,” he says, ignoring the way I snarl at him. His gaze finally lands on me. “Priest, you’ve made a fucking mess of things. Don’t expect you’ll come back from this unscathed.”
I grin, blood still crusted in my teeth.
“I fucking hope so.” I don’t bother hiding my excitement at the idea of killing more men.
More Sovereigns approach the truck. Good. Let the fuckers pile in. He’s gonna need every single one of them if he plans on keeping me in this cage.
“Sir, do you think it’s possible she learned her father is still alive?” someone asks Sterling.
My head snaps up.
Her father?
Lev?
My eyes shoot to Arsen.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. But his jaw ticks—just once.
Something’s wrong.
“Impossible,” Sterling replies without glancing up from the paperwork he’s signing. “She’ll be found. And when she is, she’ll be dealt with. Her and her father—both.”
Another Sovereign nods as Sterling hands him the paperwork. I glare at each of them, hoping my gaze makes them reconsider coming anywhere near me. Something about that last exchange is itching at the back of my mind. It’s not making sense.
“Get comfortable,” Sterling says, his eyes boring into mine. “You’ll be here a while. I have a lot of questions for the two of you, and I'll get the fucking answers I want.”
I jerk against the restraints, aching to snap his neck.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Sterling's expression goes cold as the doors slam shut behind him. The engine revs and the truck lurches forward. I count the turns. Concrete to gravel. Left. Right. Right again.
Wherever they are taking us, it's outside of the fucking city.
“What the fuck is this Arsen?” The words are barely out before the fucker next to me slams a rifle stock into my jaw. Blinding white flashes across my vision. My head snaps to the side. The taste of copper floods my mouth.
I stay still for half a second. Let the pain bloom.
Then I look up at the bastard and smile.
“You’re gonna regret that.” I press my tongue against my molars, feeling for loose teeth. “When I tear out your fucking windpipe, you’ll wish you used the barrel instead.”
He swallows. I hear it.
Music to my ears.
Beside me, Raze is practically vibrating, half-laughing, half-deranged. “I’ve got the same question, Arsen. What the hell is going on?”
“Shut the fuck up. Both of you,” Arsen snaps from his post, arms crossed.
“Eat shit,” I mutter, still watching the one who hit me.
I’m done. I don’t give a fuck about any of this. My head pounds from that hit. I can feel my control slipping. A Sovereign is standing between me and Wolff at the back of the truck. He's watching us with a wary look.
I can smell his fear. I breathe it in.
My eyes skim the layout. Weapons. Positions. I flex my wrists subtly, testing the give. If I dislocate my thumbs, I could slip the cuffs. Wouldn’t even need a weapon. Just a jawbone and my fucking rage.
The truck lurches to a hard stop.
Everyone stumbles. I slam my shoulder into the wall and chain-rattle echoes off the metal.
Arsen’s already rushing to the front. “What the fuck now?”
“There’s a truck in the road,” the driver shouts back. “Flat tire.”
“Then go the fuck around it!” Arsen barks.
The driving pit door swings wide, letting me see out the front windshield. A beat-up box truck is parked sideways across the intersection—rear tire shredded, hazard lights blinking.
A hooded figure stumbles out of the cab. Making their way toward us.
“Fucking handle it,” Arsen grunts, turning back toward the truck’s interior, his hand resting on his gun.
The driver leans out the window, shouting at the pedestrian to back off. Hand on his gun. Nervous. Probably shitting himself from having Raze and me caged behind him.
The pedestrian mumbles something, still walking toward the truck. The driver goes to yell again.
“Get this thing moving!” Arsen barks.
Bang.
The shot cracks the air. Blood, bone, and brain matter smear across the inside of the windshield. I stare at the hole in the driver’s forehead, blood pouring down his nose.
The shooter lifts their gun again. Arsen and Wolff open fire, hitting the other Sovereigns in the chest, neck, and face. The truck shakes as bodies drop. Blood coats the walls. I smell the burn of powder and death.
I’m up in a second, snapping my wrists against the cuffs until tendons scream. One tear, one twist—metal rips through skin. I don’t stop. My hands rip free, blood pouring.
The fucker who hit me earlier is too fucking slow. I grab my chains, whip them around his neck, and yank. His trachea collapses with a sickening crunch. He claws at his throat, gurgling, eyes wide as he drops. Dead before he hits the floor.
I’m lunging for his gun when the back door slams open.
Shot to the bolt in my ankle chains.
Arsen kicks me hard in the spine. “Move!”
I crash out of the truck and hit the pavement—concrete scraping any exposed skin.
Crack.
A steel-toed boot slams into my jaw.
My skull snaps sideways, pain detonating behind my eyes. Blood floods my mouth. The world tilts. I’m on my back, limbs slow to respond.
“Arlo! That’s enough!” Arsen shouts.
She screams as he yanks her off me, her boot still swinging wildly, aiming for my throat. Her heel grazes my collarbone. I grunt, tasting blood.
“Let me go!”
Arsen’s arms lock around her waist, pinning her against his chest. His mouth drops to her ear.
“It’s done, firecracker,” he breathes. “Not the time or place.” He presses his lips to her temple, holds her like he’s done it a thousand times.
What the fuck?
My blood-slicked teeth grit as I spit red onto the pavement. Arsen—stone-cold, ruthless bastard Arsen—whispering Russian endearments and stroking her fucking hair?
She fights him, thrashing, trying to claw away.
“Arlo, please…” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “We need to go.”
Behind me, a thud—Raze hits the ground, shoved out the truck by Wolff.
“Fucking Christ,” he groans, chains clinking as he rolls onto his back. Wolff grabs a duffel from the truck and climbs out, gun still hot in his hand.
But I don’t stop watching Arlo. Arsen’s dragging her toward a black SUV tucked in the shadows. Her face is bruised, lip cracked, eyes full of hate as she screams at me.
He pushes her into the backseat as she fights him off, one last kick catching the doorframe. Her scream fades once he slams the door shut.
Wolff shoves me with the stock of his rifle. “Move.”
“Touch me again, and I’ll snap your fucking neck.”
His jaw ticks. “We don’t have time for this.”
“You better make time, K9,” I spit his call sign, blood dripping down my chin. “You want to keep all your fucking teeth? Start talking. Now.”
“Priest—”
I grab his vest and slam him against the truck. His shoulders tense, his whole body stiff at the contact. The fucker hates being touched.
“Don’t test me. You think just because you helped get me out, I won’t break your spine for keeping shit from me?”
He shoves me off, but I don’t move far.
“I don’t have all the details,” he grits out. “Arsen does.”
I stalk past him, blood in my mouth and fire in my chest, stepping over the corpses of Sovereigns.
Arsen’s standing by the SUV, arm still on the door. His gaze meets mine.
“I want answers. Now.”
“You’ll get them.”
“You better hope I do. Because if this is some game—if any of you are fucking with me—”
He opens the SUV door wider. “Get in. We’ve got a long drive. And you’re going to want to hear everything.”