Chapter 54 #2
Luke’s expression hardens, and he bares his teeth in a silent snarl as he takes a menacing step towards Rhys.
“I’m more than happy to repay the favour right now.
” His hand snaps out to wrap around Rhys’s throat.
“And not just on you.” His gaze slides over to Ollie, and his eyes take on an unholy light. “I bet she squeals real fucking nice.”
Red tinges my vision at his words, and it’s only because I’m still propping up Theo that I don’t stride over to Luke, rip his hand away from Rhys and beat him to death. I bet I could make him squeal like a bloody pig and beg for mercy before I’m done with him.
While Rhys’s expression doesn’t change, his entire body stiffens and his amber eyes turn to ice.
I can practically feel the freezing rage pouring off him as he stares unflinchingly at the monster in his face.
It feeds my own fury that’s boiling inside me, turning my blood to lava and scorching me from the inside out.
Theo’s arms tighten painfully around me as he sucks in a sharp, hissing breath. “He’s a dead man,” he mutters so quietly that only Ollie and I can hear.
Ollie blows out a shaky breath. “Agreed,” she says grimly, her voice surprisingly strong considering she’s being threatened by said dead man.
My hand finds hers, and I give her a comforting squeeze. She squeezes back, the action grounding me enough that I don’t feel like I’m about to fly off the handle.
“Luke,” Mark barks. “Back down. We need them alive.”
Luke’s jaw clenches and his grip tightens on Rhys’s throat for a second before he drops his hand with a growl. “Let’s move then,” he bites out, sneering at Mark as he strides past the older man and storms towards the wall beyond the trees.
Elsa looks terrified as she sidles even closer to Mark, who doesn’t even acknowledge her existence. If anything, he looks like an exasperated parent trying to wrangle his kids.
“I apologise for his behaviour. He didn’t appreciate his wrist being broken, and it’s put him in a foul mood. If you’ll follow me, we can get this mess sorted and have all our settlements thriving instead of warring.”
He’s bloody delusional if he thinks we’re going to have anything to do with him or the Scourge after this.
Mark grabs Rhys’s arm and drags him towards the wall. Several more guards join up with them, appearing out of the trees like ghosts. All of them are armed with various melee weapons, and one even has a fucking crossbow.
The prod of a knife in my spine has me, Ollie and Theo following them at a slower pace since Theo is still limping and leaning heavily on me.
I know the doc said that he couldn’t rip his wounds open again, but with how badly he’s hurting, he must’ve done significant damage to them.
The thought makes my heart clench, and I glance down at his leg, expecting to find his jeans soaked with blood.
I can only see mud.
My brow furrows and my eyes snap back to his face just in time to see him wink. That has my eyebrows flying upward before I can stop them. He’s faking it? Or at least playing up his pain?
He dips his chin once, a subtle movement, and my chest loosens in relief. And then my mind ticks over. We can use this to our advantage, especially if the guards at our back write Theo off as a threat. We just need to wait for the right opportunity to strike and make it count.
The battle rages around us, Scourge and Lodge members taking shots at anything that moves in the barricaded watchtowers dotting the wall.
Their numbers are lower thanks to our distraction with the fireworks and subsequent battle with them deeper in the woods.
There are a couple of shouts and curses from our side, but no one sounds heavily injured even though our security guys aren’t shooting back as frequently.
Maybe we can actually win this.
That hope dies the moment we reach a familiar part of the wall; the hidden exit we used to leave to set the fireworks. How the hell did they know where it is?
My question is answered when we’re unceremoniously shoved through the narrow hole and back into Haven.
Anthony stands with his jaw clenched, eyes hard, and hands balled into fists. Beside him are two security guys I vaguely recognise, both holding knives. One is pressed against Anthony’s throat while the other is prodding against his kidney.
Standing in front of him is a scrawny young man wielding a shotgun, with a faded bruise on his jaw. I don’t recognise but from Rhys’s growl, he does.
“You motherfucker,” he grinds out, the first burst of emotion I’ve seen from him.
The scrawny man barely looks at him; his attention is focused on a pleased-looking Mark. “Sir,” he says, inclining his head respectfully. “I did as you asked, although the others were captured and killed before I could release them.”
That has the rage blanketing Rhys’s features faltering, confusion clouding his expression.
I’m similarly confused because we haven’t killed a single captive—we’re still deciding what to do with them.
Anthony, however, doesn’t react and instead does this weird twitch with his eye.
I’d say it’s him trying to stop himself from launching himself in rage, but I know him enough to know that eye twitching isn’t one of his tells.
Rhys’s expression shutters, returning to a blank mask, and I’m left feeling even more confused.
What the fuck is going on?
Mark grins at the young man like a proud father and even walks over to him to pat him on the shoulder. The other man flinches, the movement so slight that you’d miss it if you blinked.
“Excellent job, Colin. I knew I could count on you.” Mark pats him again before dropping his hand and turning to Rhys with a cold, triumphant smile. He’s no longer the reluctant villain, but the conquering hero. “Shall we begin our negotiations?”