Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Tav
I sat in the passenger seat with my eyes closed and tried to gauge if any part of the drive out to Harrison felt familiar.
The section of the city had once been desirable as the factories employed thousands.
Apartments were filled, and shops lined the streets.
But once the factories closed, Harrison descended into despair and then desolation.
Devlin had properties out here, but Nik had told me that Soto had burned them all to the ground.
It was why we suspected he’d take Conrad elsewhere, since he was known for his occupation of Harrison.
We reached the apartments late afternoon, as the shadows of the tall buildings lengthened over the run-down smattering of trees surrounding the apartments.
As soon as we stepped out of the car, the stillness in the air struck me as unnatural.
Fake. Three more SUVs pulled in behind us, and Cameron joined our side as the rest of the men hung back.
“Had some lower-level guys check this out, Nik,” he reported. “It’s possible they missed something.”
Nik nodded. “Nothing goes unchecked. Have the men spread out. If we need to, we’ll set up a search grid.” His eyes slid to mine. “Tav trusts his source.”
Cameron divided his men to check the apartments. Something about the sound of traffic nearby, and a bird call over my head set my senses on alert. I’d been here. My feet had stumbled over this gravel.
I began to walk. I wasn’t sure where, but my body was like a divining rod, and Con was water.
If he was here, I’d find him. I knew it.
My boots hit dirt and then grass. The ground was spongey, and I inhaled deeply, the musky scent of the trees taking me back to another time.
Long ago. When I’d been in pain and when my life had been ripped from me.
I knew this place. I’d been here. Hope flared in my chest.
As soon as I hit the edge of the trees, a gunshot rent the air. Bark exploded over my head, and I ducked immediately into a crouch just as Nik’s shout went up. I couldn’t hear what he said, but footsteps pounded toward me. More gunshots rang out. Pained groans filled my ears.
We were close. Con was here. These men wouldn’t be protecting nothing.
I began to sprint. Nik shouted my name, but I ignored him, tearing through the thick underbrush and leaping over fallen logs. The smell was nearly suffocating now, a thick fog that I smelled sometimes in my nightmares.
I tripped on a vine, nearly faceplanting as I came face to face with a member of Devlin’s crew.
He wasn’t an important one, some new guy who I’d seen hanging around my last few fights.
His arm shook as he lifted a gun, eyes wide, and I didn’t even flinch.
I punched him hard, right in the jaw, and he went down like lead weight.
And that’s when I saw it, a small hut, maybe ten by ten feet, with a crumbling roof and a broken door.
Nik shouted my name again, but I was already at the hut, throwing open the door to register a small room with a sleeping bag shoved in the corner and a bunch of protein bar wrappers.
And a set of stairs leading underground.
I didn’t even bother going slow or trying to hide my presence.
I threw myself down the stairs to take on whatever was there head-on.
The lighting was dim, but my eyes adjusted quickly to the light, and I saw that my visit had been expected.
Hands tied behind his back, Conrad sat on a chair in the middle of the room, a bare bulb dangling from the ceiling highlighting all he’d gone through in the last twenty-four hours.
Bruises littered his face, and one eye was nearly swollen shut.
Blood was caked in his hair, his ear, and all over his face.
The skin of his torso was discolored more places than it was not, and his breathing didn’t seem right, like he couldn’t inhale fully.
He wore only his jeans, feet bare, and a large bloody gash marred his thigh, the denim sliced like he’d been stabbed.
I took it all in clinically, forcing myself to assess. Just assess. I catalogued the injuries like I was an ER nurse. I’d rage over them later.
Devlin stood behind him, a knife in his hand, the point at Conrad’s throat. Con sat deathly still, one good eye on me, but I couldn’t read the emotion there—his face was too bruised and swollen for me to know what his facial muscles were doing.
I’d been in this basement. I’d spent the worst week of my life here.
Even now, I could feel the hunger pains in my stomach, my swollen tongue, aching ribs.
The rope on my wrist, the feel of the concrete under me and the cage bars at my back.
One cage door was open, the floor stained with fresh blood.
A bucket sat in the corner along with a few scattered plastic food wrappers.
“How fast do you think you can get over here, Husk?” Devlin rasped. He dragged the chair further away, and the legs skittered on the ground. “And how many holes do you think I can put in him before you do?”
He pressed the knife to Con’s throat, who made no noise when a bead of blood appeared there. I didn’t focus on that. I didn’t focus on anything but strategy and how to get us all out of here alive. Everyone but Devlin.
The Husk armor had been ill-fitting since yesterday, but now it settled on my shoulders like an old friend.
I didn’t feel empty with despair or weak because of my feelings for Con.
I felt full, so fucking full, because I had something to fight for, something right in front of me.
Con. My family. The life he promised me.
And the life I’d make sure came true for us.
From outside came the sound of gunfire. Screams of men. Devlin flinched with each one, and his eyes blazed. “Come on,” he baited. “Try me, Husk.”
“Rome’s falling, Devlin.” Con’s words were slurred, and his voice was scratchy. “You burning with it?”
“Only if you’re there with me, baby,” Devlin leaned down and rubbed his cheek along the top of Con’s head, and I nearly surged across the basement floor and ripped off Devlin’s head right then and there.
Con didn’t flinch, only held my gaze with his one good eye, which still blazed blue and beautiful in the harsh light.
Devlin lifted his head, cheek now stained with the blood from Con’s hair.
He sighed as the knife drifted down, lower, to tap against Con’s ribs.
“My only regret is not killing your bitch sister. I admit defeat there, Husk. But not in this. In this, I have you both by the balls, don’t I?
” It was just like Devlin to feast on his last crumbs of power.
“You know how fast I am,” I said, keeping my voice low. Calm. Husk-like. “You’ve seen me fight.”
His gaze traveled down my body. “Looks like you’ve put on a bit of weight since I last saw you.”
“Fat-shaming, Devlin?” Con quipped.
With a grip in his hair, Devlin wrenched Con’s head back so roughly, that Con’s whole body jerked, and his bones creaked. Devlin leaned down, lips at Con’s ear, but his gaze on me. “I’m done playing.”
The knife in his hand jerked, sending the blade into Con’s body.
But I was already halfway across the basement.
Blood gushed red from Con’s torso, and Devlin’s hand pulled back for another stab, but I was at his side now, and one punch to Devlin’s face took him off his feet.
He fell to the ground on his back, and I was on him in an instant, pummeling him with my fists.
I felt his ribs crack beneath my blows. His nose sprayed blood.
He rocked with each hit, a terrible wheeze in his throat as I battered him, a deafening roar in my ears that was coming from me.
I wrapped my fingers around his throat and squeezed. His eyes bulged, and bile rose in my throat as I remembered how I’d done this once before. I could still hear Dennis’s rasped breathing, his pleas. My body bucked, and my face was wet.
I registered footsteps clambering down the stairs. Hands grabbed at me, and I let myself be pulled from Devlin, whose chest still rose and fell on shuddered breaths.
My rage haze cleared as Con stood in front of me, his posture stooped from pain. Nik was at my side, a hand still locked around my elbow. In Con’s loose grip was a gun, Nik’s gun, and the sight made me ill. I shook my head. “No, Con. Let me.”
I could end this. I’d done it before, and while it would mark my soul, Con would get me through it. I knew he could—
He shook his head. “No.” His fingers fluttered over my cheek, and a soft, sad smile curled his swollen, bruised lips. “I’ll do it.”
He turned, and my efforts to follow were thwarted by Nik, who had a death grip on my arm. I turned to him with a snarl. I could take him on. It would hurt for both of us, but I could.
He showed no emotion as he stared me down. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”
Devlin’s voice drew me. He’d curled into a ball, one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach, the other clawing at the floor.
“Just do it, Conrad.” His voice was garbled, probably from his broken face and loose teeth, but the defeat in his tone…
I’d never heard Devlin speak like that. “Just end it already.”
“Is that what you want?” Con said softly, the gun still held loosely at his side. “You want me to kill you?”
“It’s already over,” Devlin spat on the floor and turned half a good eye to Conrad above him. “Right?”
“You’re right. Everything you have is gone. The last of your men are dead or defected.”
“I don’t care about that.” Devlin shifted, his hand scrabbling the floor until he managed to latch onto one of Con’s bare ankles. “You were never who I thought you could be. So it doesn’t matter now. None of it ever did.”