Chapter 15 #2
She screams. "Where is it?!"
"Bedroom!" Ted's composure cracks. "Top drawer of my dresser. Left side. It's there, I swear it's there."
"Go get it. Now. You try anything—anything at all—and I open her throat."
He moves.
Fast.
Disappears down the hallway.
I hear drawers opening.
Rustling, then footsteps returning.
He appears with something in his hand.
Small.
Glinting.
My heart clenches.
Ingrid's ring.
The emerald catches the light as he holds it out.
"Take it. Just take it and leave."
"Set it on the table. Then step back."
He does.
I guide Susie toward the table, keeping her between me and Ted.
Pick up the ring.
It's warm from being in the drawer.
But intact.
Undamaged.
I slip it into my pocket.
One down.
"Now," I say. "The information."
"What information? I told you, I don't—"
"Names. Locations. Who runs the trafficking operation. Where they keep the kids. How many people are involved." I meet his eyes. "You have three seconds before I start cutting pieces off your wife."
"You wouldn't—"
"One."
"This is insane—"
"Two."
"Okay!" He holds up his hands. "Okay. I'll tell you. Just—don't hurt her."
The words pour out of him.
Names—half a dozen people involved in the operation.
Locations—warehouses, safe houses, routes they use to move the kids.
Money—who pays, who profits, where the cash goes.
A whole network of evil, laid bare because a man wanted to save his wife.
I commit it all to memory.
Every name.
Every location.
Every detail.
And then he says something that stops my heart.
"I don't just transport them," he says. "I—I sample the merchandise. Before they're sold. Some of the buyers, they want them broken in already, and I—"
"Stop."
The word comes out strangled.
He samples them.
The children.
He rapes children before they're sold.
The knife trembles in my hand.
Every cell in my body screaming to put it through his throat.
To end him right here, right now.
To make the world a cleaner place.
Susie is sobbing. "Oh god. Oh god, Ted. Children? You—you've been—"
"Shut up."
"How could you? How could you do that? I've been married to you for fifteen years and you—you're a monster. You're a fucking monster!"
"I said shut up!"
"I want a divorce." Her voice is ice now. Cold and final. "As soon as this is over, I'm filing for divorce. I never want to see you again."
Ted's face twists.
The mask falling away.
The real him showing through.
"You think you can leave me?" He takes a step toward us. "You think you can just walk away? You know too much now. You've heard too much. The second he leaves, I'll make sure you never tell anyone anything. I'll kill you myself."
Susie goes rigid in my arms.
And I make a decision.
I release her and push her toward the door.
"Run."
She doesn't hesitate.
Just runs.
The front door slams behind her.
It's just me and Ted now.
He lunges for me.
I'm faster.
I pull my gun and fire.
The bullet tears through his right kneecap.
He screams.
Collapses.
Tries to crawl away.
I fire again.
Left kneecap.
Another scream.
More blood.
He's writhing on the floor now, sobbing, his legs useless beneath him.
I crouch down next to him.
Press the barrel of my gun against his temple.
"You rape children," I say quietly. "You beat my fiancée half to death. You took her ring. You threatened to kill your wife."
"Please—" He's crying. Begging. "Please, I told you everything—"
"And I'm grateful. That information is going to help us burn your entire operation to the ground." I lean closer. "But that doesn't mean you get to walk away. That doesn't mean you get to live the rest of your life with working legs."
"You can't do this—"
"I can do whatever the fuck I want." I stand. Look down at him. "You're going to meet some friends of mine. And they're going to have questions. A lot of questions. And if you think what I did to your knees was bad—"
I don't finish the sentence.
Don't need to.
The terror in his eyes says he understands.
I pull the chloroform from my pocket.
Soak the rag.
He tries to crawl away, but he can't.
His legs are useless.
Just drags himself across the floor, leaving trails of blood.
I grab him by the hair.
Press the rag over his nose and mouth.
He struggles.
Weakly.
Pathetically.
Then goes limp.
I stand over his unconscious body for a long moment.
Fighting the urge to put a bullet in his brain.
He deserves it.
God knows he deserves it.
But I need him alive.
The club needs him alive.
Runes and Fenrir are going to want answers.
And this piece of shit is going to give them.
I drag him to the truck.
It's not easy—he's dead weight, and my healing wound screams with every movement.
But I manage.
I get him in the bed of the truck, and cover him with a tarp.
Stand there for a moment, catching my breath.
Once I’ve caught my breath I get inside the truck and start the ignition, not wanting to waste any time.
The drive back is quieter than the drive there.
Calmer.
The rage still burns, but it's controlled now.
Focused.
I have what I came for.
The ring.
The information.
The man.
Everything I need to end this.
There will be consequences for what I did.
Going rogue.
Acting alone.
Runes and Fenrir are going to be furious.
I don't care.
Let them be furious.
Let them strip my patch if they want.
It won't change what happened.
Won't change what I did.
Won't change the fact that the man who hurt Ingrid is bleeding out in the back of my truck, on his way to face justice.
My phone buzzes.
Text from Ingrid:
Where are you? Getting worried.
I type back one-handed:
On my way home. Have a surprise for you.
Her response:
Good surprise or bad surprise?
I smile.
The first real smile in days.
Good. Really good. See you soon.
The ring burns in my pocket.
Warm.
Solid.
Real.
I'm bringing it home.
Bringing her future back.
Bringing her the justice she deserves.
And when she slips that ring back on her finger—when she sees that I kept my promise—maybe, finally, she'll start to heal.
Maybe we both will.
The road stretches ahead.
Dark.
Empty.
Full of possibility.
I press down on the accelerator, and drive toward the clubhouse.