Chapter 29
Judge
When I come to, everything aches. My skull throbs like it’s a drum that someone is pounding as hard as they can.
My arms are pulled up uncomfortably, chaining me to the rusted metal bars of a broken window frame.
I’m in a room that looks like it hasn’t seen use in decades.
Ivy creeps in through the cracks as nature tries to claim this place as its own—the wallpaper peels in strips.
The stone floor is cold and hard, my legs are stiff, and my jeans are wet from the damp that seeps in through it.
Every inch of my body hurts, but it wasn’t something new to me.
I’ve been through worse. The most torturous part of yesterday’s ordeal was that Lena was there to witness our pain and humiliation.
To my shame, I found my faith in her wavering.
I began to believe what Zeke was telling us, even as I said to myself that her cool indifference was an attempt to protect us.
By the time Zeke finished, I no longer knew what to believe.
I just needed him to stop. The pain of believing Lena never cared for us hurt more than a thousand cuts.
I vaguely recall being brought here with Doc after Zeke grew bored of tormenting us and decided to split us up. After that, I fell into oblivion.
I blink through the darkness, looking for Doc.
It’s quiet, too quiet.
Doc is slumped, unconscious, on the other side of the room, similarly chained to a different window frame. The blood on his head has trickled down his face and dried. He’s shirtless, his chest painted in shades of purples, blacks, and yellows, bruise upon bruise. He’s not moving.
“Doc,” I hiss, my voice raw from lack of use. How long have we been here? Time has lost all meaning in this hellhole.
No reply.
“Doc, wake up!” I hiss as I rattle against my cuffs, testing for some leverage to see if I can escape. They hold fast. My shoulders scream in protest as I use all of my strength. They don’t budge.
Doc doesn’t move. Shit. That’s not good. I wonder how long we’ve been unconscious for. If they hit Doc too hard and there’s swelling on his brain, he might not make it.
“Doc, wake up!” I plead. “We’ve been through too much shit for you to die on me now. Come on, man, don’t you dare do this to me. You’re tougher than this. Don’t leave me here alone.”
Nothing.
Panic starts to creep in.
“Fuck!” I bellow in frustration, fruitlessly fighting against my restraints.
My screams attract someone’s attention as I hear heavy booted footsteps approaching, followed by the unmistakable sound of the door being unlocked.
It creaks open, and the man from before with the broken nose appears, holding his rifle with both hands.
“Well, look who’s finally woken up. The Prez is gonna be happy. ”
He strolls over, getting closer, unafraid and cocksure. I’d like to see him be so confident without these cuffs. He holds the gun loosely in his hands.
“Please, can you check if my friend is breathing? He’s not moving,” I ask, anxiously looking over at Doc. “Zeke won’t be happy if you’ve killed him before he gets what he wants from us.”
I only wish I knew what that was. Other than the pleasure of breaking us, of breaking our bond with Lena, with each other.
The man frowns, eyeing me warily, but he does as I ask. He steps over to Doc, nudging him with his boot, then prodding him with his gun to check he’s not faking before putting his gun to one side and kneeling to check Doc’s pulse. “Still alive. He’s breathing,” the man grunts, looking over at me.
Before I have time to fully register what’s happening, Doc strikes.
In one swift movement, he tugs his arms, and the weakened bar that he’s chained to breaks away, clanging to the floor.
Doc wraps the chain of his cuffs around the man’s neck and leans back, using the force to choke him.
The man struggles and frantically flails as he tries to reach for his gun, but Doc kicks it away, just out of reach.
The man’s face turns purple as he struggles for air.
His bulging eyes meet mine, begging, accusing, desperate, before rolling back in his head.
Doc pulls harder as the man loses consciousness, and he doesn’t release his grip until the guard has stopped moving.
I blink. “Well, shit,” I say. I don’t care if the man is dead or alive. I turn my focus to Doc. “You asshole! I thought you were dead!”
Doc chuckles, panting from exertion as he struggles under the man’s weight, rolling him off and searching his pockets.
“Sorry, I had to fake it. I needed to make it realistic. You’re a fine soldier and a good man, Judge, but you can’t act for shit.
If he sensed it was a trap, he wouldn’t have come close. ”
“You dick, you should be an actor. I really thought you were dead.” I laugh too, from sheer relief, and shake my head ruefully.
He grins. “I’m too tough to go out like that, remember?”
I shake my head. “You had me worried there for a moment, don’t pull that shit again, damn near gave me a heart attack.” My focus returns to our escape. “How’d you break free? I’m stuck fast.”
Doc shrugs. “Dumb luck, one of the bars had rusted so much I was able to break it away. Thank fuck he didn’t notice the gap, or we’d have been done for.
” Doc breathes a sigh of relief as he finally finds the keys in the unconscious man’s pocket.
He struggles a little to unlock his cuffs, rubbing his wrists as he finally gets them free.
“What are you waiting for? Come and uncuff me. Someone could be coming any minute,” I huff impatiently.
“I thought I’d leave you tied up,” Doc jokes, as he picks the gun up and rises to his feet before coming and unlocking my cuffs.
I shake my numb arms to bring the feeling back to them. “Let’s go find the others.”
Doc nods in agreement, serious now, all brevity gone. Zeke thought he was capturing us, but all he’s done is let foxes into the hen coop. Doc hands me a flick knife that he found on the man. I raise a questioning eyebrow at him, and he shrugs. “He only had one gun.”
I don’t argue with him. Out of the two of us, I’m the one who’s better at close combat and knife work anyway.
Doc leads the way, his gun raised as we slip into the hallway, careful and silent.
He hands me the keys, and I lock the door behind us.
If the man wakes, he won’t be able to get out of there.
I then push the keys into my pocket, just in case they might come in handy later.
There’s no time to discuss what happened last night, for me to ask what Doc thinks about Lena, if he believes that she’s Zeke’s old lady.
Once we’ve found the others, we can come up with a plan.
I don’t know about my brothers, but I’m not leaving here without Lena and Mia.
I have to believe that what we had was real, that she’s lying now for her own reasons, to protect us all.
We move down the corridor, every creak of the old floorboards echoing like thunder. Room by room, we clear the area, our military training coming in handy. There’s dust and decay everywhere. It’s empty.
I hear the footsteps of someone approaching. Doc signals, and I wordlessly agree to hide, ducking behind the doors of opposite rooms, prepared to ambush the men. Through the cracked door, I see a beefy man with a shaved head ambling down the corridor.
“Fucking Bulldog, can’t he do anything right? Always screwing things up. First, the bitch gets the upper hand on him and breaks his nose, and now he can’t even bring the prisoners to the Prez without fucking it up and taking too long,” the man grumbles to himself.
I assume Bulldog must be the man we just encountered, and that ‘the bitch’ who broke his nose must be Lena. Atta girl, I think proudly. This further bolsters my belief that Lena is still on our side. She’s playing the game.
The man walks past us, and we spring on him.
He’s so absorbed in his task that he doesn’t even hear us coming.
He goes down without much of a fight, and we easily incapacitate him, cuffing him to a drainpipe in one of the rooms using the cuffs that were on us.
We’re not in the habit of killing people unless we absolutely have to.
We need to keep on moving.
Doc and I continue our silent search of the house, determining that we’re in a separate wing, away from the main house, where Zeke must be holding Lena and Mia.
Zeke isn’t fool enough to risk keeping us too close by.
I assume that Rex and Cole can’t be far from us.
They might even be back in that dungeon, so it’s a place to start searching at least. I wish I could remember the route more clearly.
I can’t stop thinking about Lena, what Zeke might be doing to her.
I know she’s strong, but I also know how manipulative he is.
Did she look like she didn’t care because of some lies he told her about us?
And he has Mia. That’s the hardest part—knowing our daughter is in his hands.
I try to push down these insistent thoughts and find comfort in the fact that he believes Mia is his and, therefore, surely won’t harm his own child.
I ignore the small voice in my head that says narcissistic monsters like Zeke hurt their kids all the time.
I tighten my grip on the knife in my hand, feeling the weight of it as I imagine the satisfaction I would feel sticking it into Zeke’s neck and watching the life drain from his eyes.
I’ve not lived up to my namesake and been the judge, jury, and executioner in a long time.
I’m not that man anymore. I swore I would never be that cold-hearted killer again, but for Zeke, I’ll make an exception.
There will be no trial. No mercy. Only justice.
Ready or not, Zeke, here I come. Your day of reckoning is here.