Chapter 11
ELEVEN
“You’re going to get us all killed.”
Kaya’s commentary follows as I press on the gas pedal, my jaw clenching tightly. She managed to force Cove into the backseat with a mere glance, and somehow, the bastard listened.
“Would you quit getting on my nerves?”
Kaya leans in, then sniffs me. From the corner of my eye, I see her brows narrowing in suspicion; then, slowly, realization dawns on her. “You’ve been drinking.”
“So?” I scoff, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. “I needed something to boost my confidence.”
Raven snorts in the backseat, and I quickly glance at him through the rearview mirror. His hair is up in a bun, a few curly strands falling over his forehead. Blair was right — he does look like a Barbie doll.
“Since when do you need confidence?”
“Let it go, Raven,” Cove sighs. “If getting slightly intoxicated helps him, then so be it.”
“Don’t encourage him!” Kaya scolds, shifting in her seat, unbuckling the seatbelt, and glaring at Cove. “A drink is fine. Did you people not notice the excessive amount of alcohol he’s been taking in on the daily?”
“It’s not that bad,” I defend, and I hate that I even have to defend myself against these lunatics. “Look, I needed a shot… for bravery.”
“You needed a shot for bravery,” Kaya repeats, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Right. The Ghost needed a shot for bravery. The same man who once upon a time massacred an entire prison without batting an eye?”
“How the hell do you know about that?”
Kaya lifts a shoulder. “I have my ways.”
“You always do,” I mutter, focusing on the road ahead of me.
With a deep breath, I try to block out Kaya’s nagging, Cove’s scoffs, and the way that Raven’s looking at me through his thinly framed glasses.
There’s something in his eyes that I can’t quite place, but currently, I don’t have the time or energy to focus on that, no matter how unnerving his intense gaze is.
“Hey, Arlo.” Kaya’s direct addressing breaks me out of the trance, and I briefly glance at her from the corner of my eye. Her brows narrow, lips thin into a line as she stares straight ahead. “Those people in the car in front of us are their men.’’
“How can you tell?” Cove quips, leaning forward, his head resting between the two front seats. A frown is on his face as he stares at the vehicle ahead, tilting his head to the side.
“Intuition.”
“That’s all?”
“It’s enough for me,” I shrug, then press on the gas pedal.
Kaya gasps, clutching the seat. The trees on the side of the road flash by us in a blur, and Cove slumps back into his seat.
The more I press on the gas, and the faster we ride, the more adrenaline pumps through my veins, an exhilarating feeling blooming inside me.
“Fuck!” Kaya yells, and judging by the tone of her voice, she knows exactly what I have planned. “Do you want to get us all killed?!”
“Stop being dramatic.”
Her next words are a string of very colorful curses, some in Russian, though it doesn’t take a genius to understand what she’s saying. Given her personality, she’s cursing me, my ancestors, and the next seven generations of the De Santis family.
Luckily, she was smart enough to put her seatbelt back on, because my goal was simple — smash into the side of one of the cars ahead. They either didn’t notice me speeding up like a maniac, or they didn’t think I’d be insane enough to actually hit them.
The collision causes all of us to sling forward, the airbags on the front seats activating immediately. Without missing a beat, I unbuckle my seat, pull out two guns that I always carry with me, and leave the car, the door remaining open.
One of the men exits the car, panting, and slumps to his knees. There’s a big cut on the side of his cheek, a direct cause of the broken window. Small pieces of glass are embedded into his flesh, his hands trembling as he tries to catch his breath.
I don’t let him.
Quickly, I knee him in the chin, and he stumbles backward, falling flat on his ass. A look of confusion flashes across his features when I step to stand between his legs, looking down at him. For a second, I can see my reflection in his eyes.
I have never looked this… dead. Mom used to say that my eyes are the most expressive part of my face and that she could always tell my true intentions through them.
That’s the part that no one can easily hide.
Yet, right now, they’re as dull as an old blade.
There’s no life hidden within, and there won’t be any signs of it until I find Blair.
“Name,” I drawl out, voice steady.
“Cam Bynes.”
“Cam Bynes,” I repeat, the name triggering a memory. “Ah, I’ve heard of you, unfortunately. One of Simmons’ men, right? You also have a brother, Sam. Who would’ve thought that Kaya’s intuition would be proven correct?”
I mutter the last part in my chin, unable to stop a scoff that comes from me. Once again, she proves that she’s at the top of the game, and even her intuition isn’t to be trifled with. Thank fuck she’s an ally and not an enemy.
“Yes,” he stammers, and something clicks in his brain, because he goes pale. “You’re him.”
I quirk an amused brow. “Him, who?”
“The one Zoe has warned us about. The one they call the Ghost.”
“Oh, and what did you hear, exactly?”
He swallows thickly, trying to figure out an escape plan. The man who was beside him in the car is either passed out or dead, because he’s not moving. When Cam sees that there’s no way out, his eyes flick back to my face, and he releases a shuddering breath.
“Only stories,” he responds, voice cracking. “I didn’t think you were real.”
“Sadly, I am very much real, and I’m about to become your biggest nightmare.”
“No—’’
I cut him off because his begging isn’t something I’m interested in hearing right now. There’s no time for me to waste, and I need to finish up here quickly and get to Blair.
“Give me your phone.’’
He seems confused for a moment but quickly complies.
He’s smart enough to unlock it before handing it over.
My eyes skim over the screen, looking through the messages.
There’s nothing that could indicate what Simmons is planning, and when I’m about to check his contact, I accidentally press the gallery icon.
My entire body freezes, and my thumb stops scrolling pretty quickly.
The albums are filled with images of a girl.
In some, she’s so bruised that it takes me a moment to spot any recognizable features.
In others, she’s crouched in a corner of the room, wearing nothing but underwear, her cheeks stained with tears.
Her hair’s a mess, there are cuts all over her body, and she looks like she’s underweight. Then, I swipe, and all air leaves my lungs when I see the face of the girl clearly.
Those eyes aren’t something I could ever forget. They’re filled with rage, with pain, and most disturbingly — she’s fucking terrified. The device slips from my hands, landing on the ground with a loud thud.
The girl in the pictures is Blair.
“You motherfucker,’’ I hiss, hands clutching by my sides.
“Look—’’
That’s the last word that leaves his mouth. With a loud snarl, I lunge at him, my fist connecting with his nose. The sound of it cracking fills my ears, followed by the feeling of his warm blood on my knuckles. He tries to writhe underneath me, to squirm his way out, but I don’t let him.
My hands are hitting him wherever I can possibly reach, breaking his nose entirely, ensuring his ribs are cracked, and even going as far as slamming his head against the side of the car.
Swiftly, I get off him, grabbing him by the collar and forcing him to his feet. He’s panting, missing a tooth from my brutal assault, but it doesn’t deter me. In fact, it makes me want to see more of his blood.
All I can focus on is the insatiable rage that’s filled my mind, body, and soul completely. Cam wobbles a little, his footing off balance, and I grip his hair with my hand, slamming his face against the hood of the car.
“You sick, twisted, pathetic little cunt,” the sneer comes from the depth of my throat.
My hand shakes in silent fury while I continue to slam his head against the car repeatedly, his blood splashing everywhere.
My white shirt is coated in his blood, but it’s not enough. The motherfucker is still breathing.
With a deep breath, I release him and pull my gun out.
Instead of thinking about it, I start shooting every part of his body. From his arms and thighs to the side of his stomach, shoulders, and calves. Everywhere, he’d be able to feel the excruciating pain, without dying too soon.
The distance between us is little, almost nonexistent, and I no longer pay attention to the way his blood splatters all over me. My white hair has crimson all over it, my face is filled with specks of the thick liquid, some of it manages to fall into my mouth.
He falls down, groaning and crying in pain. The sound of his suffering only intensifies the rage inside of me. That’s probably the same sound that Blair had to give them time and time again.
It’s probably the same amount of physical pain she had to endure over the course of the past four months, and I don’t dare to even think of the mental pain she had to go through.
She was all alone, and they abused her, forced her to relive the trauma she endured as a teenager, and I’m praying I get to her in time.
My eyes snap to the car as the other man pushes the door open, crawling outside. My movements are silent, and before he can register what’s happening, I kick him right in his face, causing him to scream out in pain.
Judging by his face, he’s Sam — Cam’s brother. How cute, two brothers will die on the same day. The rational part of me is screaming to just take one as hostage, to try and get any information out of them possible, but the rage in me doesn’t let me.
The monster is thirsty for their blood, to see the life drain out of their bodies, to see the soul leave their eyes. And I don’t stop the monster. I cannot. I don’t want to. Because the monster in me exists to protect the woman I love the most, and it won’t stop killing until she’s back in my arms.
I shoot him, multiple times, until he too succumbs to wounds and falls to the ground.
My chest is moving up and down rapidly, hands trembling as the adrenaline rushes through.
I’m momentarily snapped out of my trance when Kaya approaches, her eyes slowly moving from two dead men to me multiple times.
“Uh… You done?”
I nod stiffly.
“Good. Let’s not waste any more time.’’
I look around, seeing the damage I did to our car. With a deep sigh, I run my hand through my hair, agitated. My hair’s grown longer since Blair’s been gone. Now, it ends just at the nape of my neck, a few strands falling over my eyes.
“We can’t use either of these,” I sigh.
“Don’t worry, Lucas is near. He’ll pick us up.”
“Isn’t his car packed already?”
Kaya shrugs. “Raven can go into the trunk for all I care.”
A small chuckle slips from me, though I quickly school my emotions back to neutral.
“Do you know the plan?”
Kaya’s face takes a serious note, and she nods. She’s the only one insane enough to actually go through with my plan without complaining too much or telling me how reckless it is.
“Don’t worry. You focus on getting Blair.
Raven will get into his position immediately, and Cove will serve as your backup.
I’ll ensure everything else is set into motion.
I’ll wait for your signal and then…” A small, sadistic smirk tugs on the corner of her lips, eyes glimmering in excitement.
The woman is half-chaos, half-insanity, and it’s such an admirable thing. “Everything will go up in flames.”
“The only two people that need to leave that place alive are Blair and Paul. You have free rein with everyone else, Kaya. Do as you wish. Torture them, gut them out, or shoot them where they stand. All yours to play with.’’