19. Izzy
19
IZZY
I blink against the harsh light as Gunnar shoves me into the room. My heart races, and my breath catches in my throat as I take in my surroundings. The walls are lined with shelves, each one cluttered with art supplies—paints, brushes, sculpting tools. But what catches my eye, what sends a chill down my spine, are the marionette dolls.
Dozens of them hang from the ceiling, their painted faces staring blankly at me.
Some are unfinished, their wooden limbs splayed out in grotesque poses. Others are eerily lifelike, their glass eyes glinting in the harsh light.
I can feel the cold sweat trickle down my back, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Gunnar’s grip on my arm tightens, and he pushes me further into the room. “Sit,” he commands, shoving me onto a rickety wooden chair in the center of the room. I comply, my eyes darting around, searching for any sign of escape, any clue as to what comes next.
And then I see it. A marionette doll, placed prominently on a workbench against the far wall. Its features are delicate, almost hauntingly familiar. My breath catches in my throat as I realize why—it looks just like Laina. The same wavy hair, the same expressive eyes.
It’s her, down to the smallest detail.
I fight the urge to retch.
This is the Puppeteer’s lair.
This is where he creates his twisted art, where he plans his cruel games. My stomach churns with fear and disgust. How long has he been watching us? How long has he been planning this?
“Pretty, isn’t she?” Gunnar’s voice cuts through my thoughts, dripping with mockery. “Took him weeks to get her just right.”
I tear my eyes away from the doll, glaring up at Gunnar. “What do you want from me?”
“From you, nothing. But from good ol Detective Reynolds, a lot, seeing as I’m taking a big risk for him.”
“You’re with Reynolds?”
“Oh, few of the boys and I are. Hawk’s not proving to be the type of leader we want or need. We help Reynolds with a few odds and ends, then Reynolds helps us and some of the Dead Demons.”
“So, you're a traitor, ” I spit out.
Gunnar smirks and paces the room, his boots thudding on the dusty floorboards.
“I prefer to think of myself as a businessman. You see, Izzy, this county’s a big chessboard, and we’re all just pawns being moved around by the Puppeteer,” Gunnar says, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s better to be on the winning side.” He glances down at his watch, “And I’d say it’s just about time that Hawk, Tank and Vance have finally lost. Anyway, I’ve done my job." He gestures to a rotting, wooden door nailed into a makeshift frame. “He’ll be able to answer all your questions.
“Why Laina?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why did he make a doll of her?”
Gunnar’s eyes gleam with a twisted delight. “She was special. Just like you.”
I swallow hard, my mind racing. I need to stay calm, I need to find a way out of this. “You’re not going to get away with this,” I say, trying to inject some confidence into my voice. “Hawk, Tank, and Vance—they’re coming for me. They’ll stop you.”
Gunnar laughs, a cruel, mirthless sound. “Let them come. We’re ready for them.”
A door at the far end of the room creaks open, and my heart skips a beat.
I turn to see Reynolds step into the room, his face a mask of cold calculation. He moves with a predatory grace, his eyes locking onto mine with a chilling intensity.
“Ah, Izzy,” he says, his voice smooth and unfeeling. “I see you’ve seen some of my creations. Beautiful, aren’t they?”
I clench my fists, fighting the urge to lash out. “You’re sick,” I spit. “Twisted.”
Reynolds smiles, a slow, sinister curve of his lips. “Art is subjective, my dear. What you see as twisted, I see as perfection.”
He steps closer, examining the Laina doll with a critical eye. “Laina was a masterpiece. But you, Izzy, you’re going to be my magnum opus. Though, I never intended to hurt you. Not like this. Your father was a dear friend of mine. You just happened to sort of get swept up into everything, and I’m not one to miss an opportunity.”
Fear grips me, cold and unrelenting. “You’ll never get the chance,” I say, my voice trembling. “They’re coming for me. They’ll stop you.”
Reynolds raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes.
“Who? Your boyfriends?” He smiles, walking over to what appears to be his work bench. The wooden limbs stacked on top of one another look more like heaps of body parts. “My men are on their way to that clubhouse, because you and Laina have done a rather wonderful job leaving the right evidence. The final pieces that connect them to the Puppeteer.”
My stomach drops.
Reynolds picks up a delicate wooden arm, inspecting it like an art critic at a gallery. “I’ve been aware of your little investigation for quite some time. The Puppeteer keeps a close eye on those who take an interest in his affairs.” He sets the arm down gently, turning his piercing gaze back to me. “You should have been more careful, Izzy. I didn’t think you’d actually try and infiltrate the Hellfire Riders.”
I glare at him, anger flaring through my fear. “You’re the one who should’ve been more careful. They’re going to find this place, and when they do, you’re finished.”
Reynolds laughs louder this time. “Oh, I doubt that. You see, they’re already preoccupied with the little raid at your clubhouse. By now, I’m sure the three of them are being handcuffed and headed straight to the station. It gets me excited just thinking about it,” he says. “Think of the headline! Hellfire Rider president and top chain in command arrested for the Puppeteer killings.”
“No one will believe it!”
“Come on, Izzy. Yes they will. Laina worked tirelessly to connect the breadcrumbs I laid out. And when they find you and Laina’s little puppets on the property, well, what will they think?”
I stare in silence, sure what he means by that.
“Come on, Izzy,” he chides. “Be smart. I trained you, brought you onto the team.” He taps the side of his head several times. “Here. I’ll be kind. I know you must be fatigued.”
He leans against the edge of his desk, folding his arms over his chest. “I killed one of the Riders a few years back as a test of their new president. Well, he took it rather personally and became hell bent on seeking revenge. He started tracking me, and got in the way of my art.” He gestures to the dolls. “So, I plotted and waited, trying to come up with the best way to plant evidence, make them take the fall for the Puppeteer. I’ll admit, I’m surprised Laina was the first one to put the evidence together, and you just happened to give me more.”
Panic grips me, but I force myself to stay calm.
Think, Izzy. Find a way out.
My eyes scan the room, taking in every detail. The marionettes, the tools, the half-finished dolls. Everything could be a weapon, an opportunity.
“Where is Laina?” I ask, stalling. “Why did you make a doll of her?”
Reynolds’s eyes darken, and he steps closer, the air growing colder. “Laina’s safe. It’s not her time. Not yet. She’s special like you. She had potential. But she got too close to the truth, just like you. So, I turned her into something beautiful, something that can’t interfere anymore. A muse for me.”
The sickening realization hits me. Laina wasn’t just a target; she was a trophy. Rage boils up, nearly blinding me. “You’re a monster,” I spit.
Reynolds shrugs, unbothered.
“Honestly, Izzy. You always were a pain in my ass. Asking too many questions. But now, you’re going to be a big help.”
My teeth grind together as my eyes narrow. I study him in the dim, pale light. He looks like a ghost of the man I’ve known almost my whole life, as though the real version of him has finally emerged from under the sheep’s wool. A monster hiding in plain sight.
"Don’t look upset. You’re going to be the reason that gets the Puppeteer caught! My last piece of evidence to secure the case. I have evidence upon evidence of you at their clubhouse, and when you and Laina show up as the next victims—well, everything will start to add up and the whole case will fall into place.”
“Why the hell are you doing this?”
He sighs.
“Oh, I could tell you my reasons, explain to you the beauty of my art and the symbolism, but you wouldn’t understand, so let’s try it this way. With Gunnar working for me, and Hawk gone, I control the Hellfire Riders and Dead Demons, and you can understand the appeal of the power someone like me would end up with.”
My pulse races, but I refuse to show him the fear that must be etched into my face. “You’re delusional,” I spit out. “The Riders will never follow you.”
Reynolds chuckles, a dark and unsettling sound. “You’d be surprised what people will do when they think their leader has betrayed them. They’ll be too busy dealing with the fallout to realize what’s happening. By the time they figure it out, it’ll be too late.”
Gunnar tightens the ropes around my wrists, making sure I’m secured. “Let’s get on with it,” he mutters, his patience clearly wearing thin.
Reynolds nods, picking up a small knife from the workbench and examining it with a critical eye. “Yes, let’s.” He smiles, looking up at me. “I never imagined you’d be my last doll.”
“I’ll find a way to stop you,” I growl, squirming in the chair.
He pats my head, like I'm a pet he's trying to calm down. “I don’t think so, sweet Izzy.”
The fear that had been boiling just below the surface finally threatens to spill over. I thrash against my bindings, but it’s no use. The ropes only dig deeper into my skin, unyielding in their grip.
Reynolds grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat. He traces the tip of the knife along my collarbone, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to know you so I can create the perfect replica. Not a single flaw. Not missing a single thing.”
His eyes roam over my body. With the knife, he slices through the collar of my shirt down to my stomach, opening the fabric and revealing myself to him. His touch leaves a trail of ice in its wake. “This will be fun,” he whispers. “You are exquisite.”
I shudder. The weight of his gaze makes me want to curl up and disappear.
I close my eyes, willing myself to be anywhere but here.
“Open your eyes and look at me,” he commands. I hesitate, but the pressure of the blade on my skin forces me to obey. “That’s better.” He sighs. “It’s important I do this perfectly. The Puppeteer’s last darling doll.”