Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Grace
The cage is maybe six feet by six feet.
Not tall enough to stand in fully.
Not wide enough to lie down comfortably.
Just enough space to sit, to crouch, to exist in this metal box like an animal.
I've been conscious for maybe thirty minutes now.
Long enough for the throbbing in my head from where they hit me to settle into a dull ache.
Long enough to work feeling back into my fingers despite the zip ties cutting into my wrists.
Long enough to realize exactly how much trouble I'm in.
The barn around me is old, falling apart.
Gaps in the wood let in slivers of moonlight.
The smell is dust and decay and old hay.
There's a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, swaying slightly, casting shadows that make everything look worse.
Flint's pacing in front of the cage.
He's been talking for ten minutes straight.
Taunting. Gloating. Enjoying this.
"Your husband isn't coming," he says, his voice smug. "He doesn't even know where you are. Could be anywhere between Vegas and the Mexican border. Could be in Arizona for all he knows. By the time he figures it out, you'll be long gone."
I don't respond. Haven't said a word since I woke up and found myself locked in here.
Silence pisses him off more than arguing would.
Two other Copperhead Kings brothers are in the barn with us.
One—I heard Flint call him Snake—is sitting on a hay bale near the door, smoking a cigarette, watching me like I'm entertainment.
The other, Rattler, is standing guard by the barn door, gun visible in his waistband.
Only three of them here.
Where are the other seven who took me?
Doesn't matter right now.
I need to focus on surviving. On staying strong. On not letting Flint see fear.
"You know what the best part is?" Flint stops pacing, crouches down in front of the cage so we're eye level.
His smile is cruel. "That tattoo on your ribs.
Shadow's name. Claiming. Like he owns you.
" He laughs. "But you're not his property, sweetheart.
You're mine. You were always mine. That four million bought you for my family all those years ago, and marriage doesn't change a debt. "
My hands are working on the zip ties.
Subtly. Carefully. Rubbing them against the metal bars of the cage where he can't see.
They're loosening. Slowly. Not broken yet, but loosening.
"You're mine now," Flint continues. "And this cage?
This is temporary. Once I'm done making my point, once your father and your husband understand that Copperhead Kings don't back down, I'm taking you to Houston.
A real cage. One you'll never leave. One where you'll learn what it means to be property. "
I meet his eyes. Finally speak. "Shadow will kill you."
Flint's smile widens. "Will he? Seems like he's not here. Seems like he failed to protect you."
"He'll come. And when he does, you're dead."
"Big talk from a woman in a cage."
I lean forward slightly, as much as the small space allows. "My father will kill you. My brother will kill you. Shadow will kill you. You're already dead, Flint. You just don't know it yet."
His face darkens, hand twitching toward his gun.
Snake laughs from his hay bale. "She's got spirit. That's gonna be fun to break."
I don't look at him.
I keep my eyes on Flint.
Defiant. Refusing to show fear even though my heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
Flint stands abruptly, kicks the cage.
The metal rattles, and I flinch despite myself.
"You think you're tough?" he snarls. "You think that attitude is going to save you? It's not. Your husband isn't coming. Your father isn't coming. No one's coming. You're mine now."
Then I hear it.
Faint. So faint I almost miss it.
A sound outside. Movement. Voices?
Flint doesn't notice. He's too focused on me, on his anger, on proving his point.
But I hear it.
My heart starts racing for a different reason now.
They're here.
Shadow's here.
I know it. Feel it in my bones. In the connection between us that goes deeper than tattoos or vows.
He came for me.
I just need to hold on a little longer.
Everything happens at once.
The barn door explodes inward with a sound like thunder—wood splintering, hinges tearing free, dust and debris flying.
Shadow bursts through, and he looks like death itself.
Gun raised. Face absolutely murderous. Eyes locked on me in the cage, then shifting to Flint with such hatred that even I feel the chill.
"Get away from my fucking wife!"
Dad's right behind him, Thunder and Banshee flanking.
More brothers pouring in—Reapers Rejects cuts, Shotgun Saints cuts, and others I don't recognize.
Chaos erupts.
Rattler reaches for his gun.
He doesn't even clear his holster before Shadow fires.
The gunshot is deafening in the enclosed space.
Rattler drops, red blooming across his chest.
Snake tries to run, scrambling off the hay bale.
Dad's faster. One shot. Snake's leg. He goes down screaming, clutching his thigh.
And Flint—
Flint lunges for the cage, grabs the bars, presses his gun between them and against my head.
I freeze.
Everyone freezes.
"Back off!" Flint's voice is panicked now, the smugness gone. "Back off or she dies! I'll blow her fucking brains out!"
Shadow stops mid-stride.
His gun is still trained on Flint, but he doesn't fire.
Can't fire.
Not with Flint's gun pressed to my temple.
"Put the gun down," Flint orders. "All of you. Guns down or she dies."
"You pull that trigger," Shadow's voice is ice cold, absolutely deadly, "you're dead before she hits the ground."
"Then we all die together."
I'm staring at Shadow. At his face. At the terror and rage warring in his eyes.
He came for me. Just like I knew he would.
And I'm not going to let Flint use me as a shield.
The zip ties on my wrists are loose.
I've been working them this whole time.
They're not broken, but they're loose enough.
I catch Shadow's eye.
Some kind of silent communication passes between us.
Trust me.
I see the moment he understands. The slightest nod.
Then I move.
I lunge toward Flint through the bars, grabbing his gun hand with both of mine, yanking it away from my head, pointing it up toward the ceiling.
The gun goes off.
Deafening.
The bullet hits the rafters.
Shadow fires.
Perfect shot.
Flint's shoulder.
Flint screams, drops the gun, and stumbles back away from the cage clutching his shoulder.
Shadow's on him in two strides.
Grabs him by the throat and slams him against the barn wall hard enough that the whole structure shakes.
Flint's making choking sounds, blood pouring from the gunshot wound in his shoulder, his feet barely touching the ground as Shadow holds him up by his neck.
"You threatened to cage my wife," Shadow says, his voice absolutely terrifying in its calmness. "You knocked her unconscious. You kidnapped her. You put your filthy hands on her."
Dad approaches from the other side, his gun still drawn but lowered now.
Blood on his hands from shooting Snake.
His face is granite. Cold. Deadly.
"You put my daughter in a cage," Phantom says quietly. "Like an animal."
Flint's eyes are wide, terrified. "Wait—wait—we can work this out—it was just business—the debt—"
"You made it personal," Shadow says, "when you touched her."
"Where's Venom?" Dad demands. "Where's your father?"
"I don't—I don't know—"
Shadow's hand tightens. "Lie again."
"Houston!" Flint chokes out. "He's in Houston! At the clubhouse! He didn't come—said this was my job—please—"
"How many brothers does he have?"
"Twenty! Maybe twenty-five! I don't know exactly! Please—"
Shadow looks at Dad. Some kind of understanding passes between them.
"No—" Flint's voice breaks. "Please—"
"You should've thought of that," Shadow says, "before you put your hands on her."
Two gunshots.
Simultaneous.
Both Shadow and Dad fire at the same time.
Flint's body jerks. Drops.
Dead before he hits the ground.
I'm watching from the cage.
Watching my husband and my father kill the man who kidnapped me, who threatened to cage me permanently, who wanted to own me.
And I feel... relief.
Not horror. Not shock. Not disgust.
Just relief.
He's dead. The threat is over. I'm safe.
This is my life now. This is who I married. This is what protection looks like in this world.
And I'm okay with it.
More than okay.
Shadow turns immediately, holstering his gun, running to the cage.
"Grace. Baby. You okay?"
His hands are on the bars, his face pressed close, his eyes scanning me frantically for injuries.
"I'm okay," I manage, and my voice is shaking now, adrenaline crashing. "I'm okay. Just get me out. Please get me out."
Shadow's examining the cage lock. Heavy padlock. Industrial.
A man I don't recognize appears beside him—older, weathered, wearing a cut that says Mojave Wolves MC.
"Bolt cutters," he says, handing them to Shadow.
Shadow takes them, positions the blades around the padlock, and squeezes with everything he has.
The lock snaps.
The cage door swings open.
Shadow reaches in, and I'm crawling out, desperate to be out of that metal box, desperate to be in his arms.
He catches me as I emerge, pulls me against his chest, and holds me so tight I can barely breathe.
"You're safe," he's murmuring into my hair. "You're safe. I've got you. Nobody's ever touching you again."
His hands are all over me—checking the bruise on my face, the rope burns on my wrists where the zip ties cut in, running over my ribs where his name is tattooed.
"Did he hurt you?" Shadow pulls back to look at me, his eyes wild. "Did any of them hurt you? Touch you?"
"No," I say quickly. "Just knocked me out. Just the cage. I'm okay, Shadow. I'm okay."
"You're shaking."
"Adrenaline. I'm okay."
He pulls me back against him, and I feel him trembling too.
The fear is catching up to him now that I'm safe.
"I knew you'd come," I whisper. "I knew you'd find me."
"Always," his voice breaks. "I'll always find you. Always."
"Grace."
My father's voice.
I turn in Shadow's arms and see Dad.