Chapter Eighteen
Remi
I press myself flat against the wall as Shadow storms out of Axel’s office, his expression like thunder, his stride clipped, and I know better than to get caught in his path, so I follow at a distance.
When he heads outside, I slip after him, keeping just far enough back that he won’t hear my steps. He stops at a side door then unlocks the padlock. The heavy door groans as he disappears inside.
I wait. One beat. Two. Then I follow.
The air grows colder as I creep down stone steps one at a time, my hand brushing the damp wall to steady myself. The stench is overwhelming, though I can’t put my finger on it, and the silence is heavy, broken only by the thud of my pulse.
At the bottom, a narrow passage stretches out, ending in a door left ajar.
I pause, straining to listen.
“Just be honest and this will all be over,” Shadow’s voice rumbles, low and dangerous.
“I swear, I didn’t touch her,” comes a panicked reply. Lee.
“Not Remi,” Shadow snaps, his tone sharp enough to cut. “This is about the money I left you to watch.”
There’s a beat of silence, then the sound of a fist meeting flesh, a sickening crack, followed by Lee’s gagging choke.
I flinch, my hand covering my mouth.
“Don’t be a pussy,” Shadow growls. “That wasn’t even hard.”
Lee’s sobs echo off the stone walls. “Please, don’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t touch the money.”
“Then why the fuck did you pull her away?” Shadow snarls. “Who are you working with?”
“No one,” Lee cries, his words breaking apart. “I was just being nice.”
The scrape of a chair echoes out. “You fancy her, is that it?”
“No—”
“Bullshit. You saying she’s not gorgeous?”
Lee’s sobbing now, babbling through his tears. “No, no, she’s beautiful. I just . . . I was being nice, that’s all.”
Another brutal thud shakes the walls.
I squeeze my eyes closed, bile rising in my throat. The man who kissed me soft last night, who begged me to stay, is here breaking someone apart without hesitation. And this time, it’s because of me.
I can’t listen to another punch. Another sob. Another second of Shadow tearing someone apart like some deranged monster.
My legs move before my brain catches up. I scramble back up the stone steps, every sound echoing like a gunshot. I race back towards the clubhouse, pushing through the door and causing everyone in the main room to look at me. I keep my head down, taking the stairs two at a time.
My chest is heaving by the time I reach the bedroom. I slam the door closed, leaning against it to catch a breath before dropping to my knees and crawling closer to the bed. I hesitate then reach under to retrieve the duffel bag, relieved it’s still in the same place.
My hands tremble as I yank it free. It’s heavier than I remember, stuffed so full, the zip barely holds. My heart thunders, louder than the music drifting up from the bar below, louder than the voice screaming in my head that this is madness.
But I can’t stop. It’s the answer to all my problems.
I sling the bag over my shoulder and creep down the stairs, weaving through the noise of the clubhouse. Nobody looks twice.
The early evening air hits my face as I push through the door. Relief surges, sharp and dizzying. I just have to cross the car park, and I’m gone.
“Remi.”
His voice freezes me.
I turn, slowly, the bag heavy against my shoulder. Shadow stands by the clubhouse doors, broad shoulders backlit by the glow inside. His kutte hangs open, his expression calm. Too calm.
My pulse spikes, panic clawing at my throat. He knows. He knows.
“Heading somewhere?” he asks, casual, like I’m just taking a stroll. His gaze flicks to the duffel, barely a glance but enough to tell me he’s clocked it. Recognition glints in his eyes, masked under that cool exterior.
My mouth is dry. “I . . . I needed some air.”
“You should go and see the doc. You’re needing a lot of air lately.” The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile. “Bag looks heavy.”
My stomach flips. My fingers tighten on the strap. Run? Lie? Beg?
His eyes lock on mine, dark and unreadable, and for the first time, I can’t tell if he’s about to pull me into his arms . . . or break me where I stand.
Shadow steps forward, slow, deliberate, and pulls a rag from his kutte.
He drags it across his knuckles, wiping away the smear of blood like it’s nothing more than dirt.
The movement snags my attention, and I can’t look away.
My stomach knots, panic clawing higher, because I know exactly where that blood came from.
It should make me sick. It does . . . but it also drags a shiver down my spine.
His gaze flicks up, catching me staring.
A faint, knowing curve touches his mouth, like he’s daring me to ask.
My grip on the duffel tightens, heart hammering so loud, I swear he can hear it.
The rag is still clutched in his fist, streaked with blood he hasn’t finished wiping away.
The sight twists my stomach, but I can’t drag my eyes from it, or from him.
“I . . . I just need a walk,” I manage, clutching the duffel strap tighter.
The muscle in his jaw ticks. “With that?” He nods to the bag.
Heat floods my face, panic and guilt tangling until I can barely breathe. My feet want to move, to run, but my body stays frozen, trapped in the gravity of him.
Shadow doesn’t raise his voice. He just starts walking, slow and steady, closing the space between us like a predator confident he’s going to catch his prey. Right now, I can see the Enforcer in him. I can see why Axel chose him for the role.
“You’ve got two options, Remika,” he says evenly, his eyes never leaving mine. “One, hand me the bag and get back inside.” I swallow hard, my grip tightening on the strap. “Or two,” he continues, tilting his head slightly, “leave.”
Hope sparks in my chest, sharp and dizzying.
For a heartbeat, I actually believe he’ll let me go.
Then his mouth curves, dark amusement flickering in his eyes.
“But the money has a tracker. And as much as I love a game of chase,” his voice drops, low and dangerous, “this one will end very badly for you.”
My breath stutters, hope crashing into dread. He’s so close now, the rag still in his hand, blood smudged across his knuckles. There’s no escape. Not really.
“If I go back inside,” I whisper, my voice breaking, “what will happen to me?”
Shadow stops just in front of me, close enough that the heat of him seeps through the night air.
His eyes drag over my face, unreadable, until they finally settle on mine.
“That depends,” he says calmly, though the steel in his tone makes my stomach twist. “On whether you’re gonna start telling me some truths.
” His hand comes up, slow, deliberate, palm open between us.
An offer. A warning. “Hand the bag over.” My chest tightens.
If I give it back, I’m admitting everything. If I don’t . . .
His gaze hardens, leaving no space for hope. “We both know you’re not gonna make it out of those gates. Even if I gave you a head start, I’d still find you. That’s what I do, Remika. That’s my job.”
“Are you going to hurt me, Logan?” I whisper, the question tearing from me before I can stop it.
For the first time, he breaks eye contact. His jaw clenches, and when he finally speaks, his voice is quieter but rougher, scraped raw.
“Shadow,” he corrects. “My name is Shadow.”
The way he says it sends a chill racing down my spine.
Logan, the man who held me, kissed me, begged me to stay, has been shoved aside, and what’s left standing in front of me is the Enforcer, the man everyone else fears.
His gaze lifts back to mine, hard as steel.
“And you already know the answer to your question.”
A sob escapes me, and with a shaking hand, I hand the bag over to him. He takes it, moving to one side, waiting for me to take the first step.
I do. What choice do I have? And with each step, I lose any chance of hope.
Shadow
I follow behind, working out my next move. I need to know everything before I get Axel and Grizz involved, so as we go through the door, I grasp the top of her arm and march her through the room, straight to the stairs. We get back into my bedroom, where I stuff the cash back under the bed.
“Sit,” I tell her, pointing to the chair.
She lowers into it, perching on the edge like she’s thinking about running.
I pull my bag from the wardrobe. She follows with her eyes, watching as I take out the rope.
“Wrists together,” I say coldly. She offers them without question, her eyes full of sadness as I twist the rope tight around her delicate skin.
She winces, but I don’t take any notice as I pull the rope down to her ankles, threading it around each one before tying it off.
I tug hard to check it’s secure, then I stand, putting space between us. “Start talking.”
“Colin sent a man after me. He sold my mother’s debt on, and this guy wants paid.”
“What guy?”
“I don’t know his name.”
I scoff. “You expect me to believe that?”
She shrugs. “I don’t care what you believe, Shadow.” The way she says my name, like it leaves a bad taste, pisses me off further. I reach into my bag and pull out a blindfold. She frowns.
“So, some guy randomly what . . . called, texted, emailed? And he didn’t give you his name, just said he wanted the money?”
I cover her eyes. Taking away senses one at a time can rattle the hardest of men, and it’ll break her enough for her to be honest.
“He pulled up alongside me in the street.”
I laugh. “Right.” It’s sounding more unbelievable by the second.
I rummage in the bag. “What are you doing?” she asks.
I grip her chair and drag it closer to the bed, causing her to jump in fright. I sit on the edge of the bed. “And what did this mystery guy say?”
“That my mum owed him twenty grand and I had to pay it.”