Chapter 54
The Reluctant Villain
Alex
“Iknow you’re out there, Rhys. Show yourself, or I'll start shooting. And bring the girl, Ollie, with you.”
I don’t think I could hate a man more than I do Mark at this moment.
He stands in front of us, pistol drawn and pointed straight at us with steady hands. While he’s acting like this is some awful thing he has no choice in doing, there’s a cold, calculating gleam in his eyes that has my skin crawling and rage stirring in my chest.
It’s bad enough that he’s caught me and Theo, but now Rhys and Ollie?
It makes me almost feral as I glare daggers at him while swallowing a snarl.
I want to slam my fist into his face over and over until it’s nothing more than a bloody mess of bone and meat. Or shout for my best friend and the love of my life to run. But I don’t. Mostly because it’ll be a waste of breath. Neither one of them will run from a fight or leave me and Theo to die.
Doesn’t stop my heart from stuttering the moment Rhys, and then Ollie, step out from behind cover.
Rhys has a blank expression on his face, but his eyes are filled with cold fury as he steps up with his hands raised.
Ollie, meanwhile, looks terrified, her face drained of blood and her lips pressed together into a grim line.
But there’s a stubborn determination in the way she juts her chin out and the lack of tremor in her limbs as she follows Rhys’s pose.
Despite the dire circumstances, pride swells in my chest at her bravery.
Her gaze narrows when she sees me and Theo standing in front of Mark, zeroing in on my cheek. The bullet graze is still bleeding, a steady flow of warm liquid trickling down my jaw and neck, but the pain is barely there. Especially when I have bigger things to worry about.
Theo tenses and curses softly beside me, and I silently echo his thoughts. This is the worst-case scenario, with the chances of us getting out of this alive plummeting by the second.
And then it gets worse.
“Glad to see you’re still a reasonable man, Rhys,” Mark says upon seeing him and Ollie. “But I’m going to have to ask you to drop your weapons—you too, Ollie—or I’m afraid this will get messy.”
And then, by some unseen signal, two men—Lodge members, I assume—step out from behind a large tree on my left.
One wields a shotgun while the other has a wicked-looking machete that belongs in a jungle, not cold, wet Britain.
They silently step behind Theo and me, and my body stiffens as the sharp point of the machete presses against my spine.
Rhys clenches his jaw and his eyes flash, but he doesn’t argue as he methodically strips off his weapons.
Ollie follows suit at a slower pace, and it’s like being back in that bloody alleyway with Ethan and his cronies.
Only this is worse because it’s not just my and Ollie’s lives at stake, but my best friends’ lives, too.
My hands clench into fists as hot, acrid frustration bubbles up at just how useless I am.
The machete jabs harder into my back, causing me to grunt. Mark’s eyes flick to me, a frown on his weathered face as he studies me with those calculating eyes.
“I didn’t send him, you know,” he says casually.
My teeth grind together as I fight not to growl at him like a pissed-off bear. “Send who?”
“Ethan.” That knowing gaze snaps to Ollie, gauging her reaction.
It’s so jarring and unlike the man I’ve known for the past several months that I struggle to marry the two versions of him together.
“He acted without orders and almost put my entire operation in jeopardy. All for a bit of pussy,” he scoffs and shakes his head.
“Men like that make poor leaders and even worse soldiers.”
Ollie tries her best to school her expression, but she can’t hide the faint flinch at Mark’s use of the word pussy. Even though the bastard is dead, he still haunts her.
Mark’s lips twitch, the movement subtle, and unless you’re staring right at him at that moment, you’d never have seen it.
Is the asshole goading us for a reaction?
Is that why he watches Ollie like a wolf watches a herd of deer, seeking weakness?
I clench my teeth as the flames of my rage burn hotter.
The back of Theo’s hand taps against my fist. I turn my head slightly towards him in acknowledgement, and he sends me a look of warning: don’t blow up.
As much as I want to ignore him, I can’t. We’re standing on a knife edge, especially me since there’s a knife pressing into my back. One wrong move could kill us all.
Doesn’t stop me from planning Mark’s eventual slow and painful death at my hands.
With Ollie and Rhys now fully unarmed, Mark waves them closer. “Come on, we’re going for a little walk,” he says as he grabs Ollie’s shoulder and shoves her towards us.
She stumbles, but I’m there to catch her. I wrap my arms around her and bury my face into her hair, mostly to muffle the growl that escapes from my chest. I think I’m going to remove Mark’s fingers first. One by one, and then his hands until they’re nothing but bloody stumps for touching her.
Rhys goes to follow Ollie, but Mark stops him. “You’re walking with me.” Those calculating eyes sweep over me, Theo and Ollie. “If any of you try to escape, Ollie dies first.”
The dead man walking waits for us to react, but we don’t give him shit.
Rhys has a firm hold of his emotions, giving Mark only a cold, indifferent glance while Theo and I keep our attention on Ollie.
Ollie is the only one who reacts, but she’s turned away from him so he can’t see the abject terror that flashes across her face before she hides it behind a blank mask.
I want to kiss her and tell her how proud I am of how brave she’s being.
But I don’t dare with our current audience, so I settle for squeezing her before letting her go and putting her between me and Theo.
The two of us share a loaded look over her shoulder and come to a silent agreement; whatever is about to happen, Ollie’s safety comes first.
Mark shakes his head at us and mutters something that has Rhys stiffening before he signals for his men to shove the three of us forward. We go without a fight and, along with Rhys, march onward with our captors.
The forest between the rock we holed up behind and the front gate to Haven is littered with the dead bodies of the two gangs.
It gives me a sick sense of satisfaction to see the destruction we wrought on these fucks, even though we’re now at their mercy.
Hopefully, this’ll have crippled them both enough that when this is all over—regardless of whether we live or die—they won’t ever come back to Haven.
A few minutes into our forced march, Theo staggers with a pained hiss and stops. The guard at his back shoves him, causing him to stumble and, if not for my quick reflexes, would have hit the ground. He grips onto me for dear life, his face contorted in pain as he silently begs me not to let go.
I tighten my hold on him, and Ollie slides to his other side while shooting daggers at the guards at our back. They don’t acknowledge her; their entire focus is on me and Theo, probably thinking we’re the real threat.
Little do they know that she’s just as capable of defending herself as we are.
With my and Ollie’s help, Theo makes it to the gate without making his injuries worse, but it’s obvious he’s in agony.
There’s a light sheen of sweat coating his skin, and there’s a tremor in his limbs as he hangs onto me.
The running and crawling through the mud has done a number on him, and he’s paying the price.
Fuck. This isn’t good. If we’re going to survive this, we need all of us to be able to fight.
Mark stops us just short of being in view of the gate and leans casually against a tree. Theo uses the opportunity to lean heavily on me and rest while Ollie looks on, brows furrowed with worry. I’m not sure what we’re waiting here for, and it doesn’t take long for that question to be answered.
“What a wonderful present you’ve gifted me, Markie!” an eager male voice booms a second before Luke steps into view with a manic grin on his face. One of his arms is in a sling, cradled against his chest while the other waves around a pistol. “Look, the entire gang is here.”
Another person steps out of the forest, one that makes my lips curl into a snarl.
Elsa looks like she’s been through hell.
Her grey hair has been pulled into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, and her eyes are ringed with black and sunken, as if she hasn’t been sleeping or eating.
There’s a frailty to her as she walks towards us, her lips pressed into a line as she regards us with disdain.
“We don’t need the theatrics, Luke,” she scolds with a sniff.
The smile drops from his face. “You should remember your place, Elsa,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. “You’ve fucked up enough that I don’t give a shit about your history with Mark; I will kill you if you piss me off enough.”
Elsa gasps and turns to Mark, waiting for him to intercede on her behalf. All he does is sigh, acting like all of this is some huge chore he’s being forced to participate in. As if he isn’t instrumental in enacting all of this.
My nose wrinkles in disgust.
“If you two are finished, I’d like to take our guests inside so we can get this negotiation started,” Mark says with an arched eyebrow.
Elsa shuffles closer to him, probably hoping that he’ll protect her from Luke if he loses it.
The psychopath in question follows her movement keenly and scoffs. “There won’t need to be any negotiation, Mark. Not when we have these four in our hands.” He turns towards Rhys, a sinister grin on his lips. “You and I have unfinished business.”
Surprisingly, Rhys’s eyes flick to the arm strapped against Luke’s chest but doesn’t otherwise react to the other man’s words.
I fight to keep my expression neutral. So Rhys is the one who fucked up Luke’s arm? Is that how he and Ollie escaped from his clutches?