Chapter 40
LEX
The Reznikov’s - Alpine, NJ
Prepping for The Blackout.
“Boys, I don’t like this. Not one bit,” Aunt Anna says while tapping her fingers on the granite countertop. “Do none of you remember the last time?”
“It’s fine, mom,” Rez says, already filling the syringe.
“Darling, talk some sense into your son and nephew,” she pleads to Rez’s dad.
A flash of white hair catches the light as Uncle Miro steps forward.
He’s my mom’s older brother and is the reason Rez got his mysteriously good looks.
Same height, same stone-cold attitude. And those same icy greenish-blue eyes that make you feel like you’re being stared down by a goddamn blizzard.
“Can’t do that, malyshka,” Uncle Miro says, shaking his head. “Lex needs to be ready.”
“Roman?” she continues, her eyes darting between my dad and Roman. “Daniel, don’t let him do this again. He barely made it through the first time and if Irina knew what—”
“He’ll be fine, Anna. He’s stronger now,” Dad cuts her off, his voice low. He locks his gaze with hers. His dark eyes are blazing in a fury I haven’t seen since the time that fucker t-boned Mom’s car while she was driving Rez and I to school.
“And leave my wife out of this,” he grits.
“They’re right,” Roman adds, nodding. “He needs to be prepared.”
Her lips press together. “Cade?!”
Cade doesn’t look at her. He stands there with his arms crossed next to Sabine, staring at me with the same worried look he’s had plastered on his face all night long.
“Ugh!” Aunt Anna shrieks. “You and your Hollow Kings madness!” She storms off in a cloud of strawberry-blonde hair and green silk into the living room.
My aunt and uncle live on a massive estate in Alpine, NJ.
A ginormous stone mansion that makes my parent’s look like a tiny dollhouse.
They have a pool rivaling the one at The Row.
A full basketball court. A shooting range where buyers come out to test out our supply.
And acres upon acres of dense woods wrapped in a high-tech perimeter fence that could probably keep the military out if it had to.
The Hollow Kings have been using this place since before Rez and I could throw a punch. Dad, Roman, and Uncle Miro ran their first initiation out here.
The first Blackout.
And since I’m a few days away from walking into Luca’s twisted version of The Blackout in Rome, Rez figured what the hell? He called Uncle Miro, Dad, and God knows who else and got this shit set up for me in less than twenty-four hours.
After the Casino Night, Knox went straight to work. Spending hours with Tattooed-Dragon-Dick going over the math, code, and collars. They’ve hit a few walls, but Knox ensured me he’ll be ready in time.
In addition to the collars, they’ve also torn apart that keycard. The one tied to our girl’s fake-ass engagement party. We found out that she’s somewhere in Ditmas Park. The irony of that shit did not land well. Tex damn near shattered the screen behind the bar when he heard.
We all did.
Bella being that close this entire fucking time all while Luca’s had our asses running around painting and bleeding sent most of us into a frenzy.
Rez and I were ready to go door-to-fucking-door through Ditmas Park.
We’d have ripped the hinges off every door on the block and gutted anyone standing in the hallway until we found her.
My hands were already itching for the weight of a sledgehammer.
But then Sabine stood up.
She rose with that terrifying grace of hers while the rest of us were flipping our collective shit. She talked us off the ledge one-by-one with logic none of us were ready to swallow. Points that tasted like ash on my tongue.
Sabine reminded us—coldly, I might add—that if Luca ever caught whiff of us in that neighborhood, the jackass would move her. Or worse. Trigger that bomb around our girl’s neck and turn her into a memory before we cleared the porch.
She whispered how we should be “merging with the shadows” and “waiting for the eye of the storm to break.” Some bullshit like that. Don’t remember the exact metaphors. They got drowned out by the half-gallon of vodka Rez was pouring just to numb the killing spree urge.
So now, we’re supposed to wait.
Wait for Knox and Mortal Kombat to finish the job.
Wait for the keycard to activate so we can go crash a party.
And while we wait, we prep for the Blackout and stay invisible. Never let that fuckface know we’re even on the damn map until he feels the cold steel of my barrel pressed between his emerald eyes.
“You ready?” Rez asks, flicking the needle twice.
I nod.
“I’ll do it, Rez.” Roman steps forward. “Get to your spot.”
Rez places the syringe in Roman’s waiting palm. “Good luck, brother,” he mutters, firmly squeezing my shoulders once before disappearing out of the kitchen.
His words hit me like a physical punch to the gut. Not cousin. Not the easy, familiar banter we’ve used to shield ourselves since we were kids.
Brother.
I stare at the empty doorway, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat before returning my focus back to Roman.
Roman’s eyes lock on mine. “Remember the rules?”
“Yeah.” I nod, pulling off my shirt and slamming it on the countertop. “Follow the flares and fight my way through hell in the dark. Then get to the antidote before this shit makes me blackout and stop breathing.”
Cade gasps at my words. I don’t dare look over. Not right now. I can’t afford to lose focus by worrying about him.
Roman nods slowly.
“How many are out there?” I ask, attaching the ECG patch on the skin where the Bella tattoo lives.
“Enough,” Roman confirms, peering down to check his phone. “Knox says he can see your vitals. It’s time.”
I lay my arm flat on the icy counter.
“Good luck, Lex,” he says, slowly sliding the needle into my flesh. A rush of warmth shoots up my arm when he presses the poison into my vein.
???
By the time I reach the first flare, my heart is racing and my palms are sweating. But at least my vision is still clear.
For now.
“Well, well, well,” DeShawn’s smug voice cuts through the treeline. “What do we have here, Chase?”
I whip around. Two of my Hollow Kings brothers step out from the shadows, gripping wooden baseball bats. Both uniform in dark jeans and black V-necks. The red skull masks on their faces looking like fresh blood underneath the moonlight.
“Let’s get this over with,” I growl, rolling my shoulders. I square up, trying to find a center that keeps shifting under my feet.
Chase swings first.
I duck, the bat whistling inches above my skull. I sweep his legs and take him out by the ankles. He hits the dirt hard. I lunge for the wood, my fingers barely closing around it. A boot slams into my hip before I can get a firm hold on the thing.
“Nice try,” DeShawn taunts, smashing his bat down into my thigh. Pain radiates up my leg. He kicks Chase’s bat out of my reach. “On your feet, Lex.”
I shove myself up, my heart pounding in my ears.
DeShawn swings for my head. I grab it, but my hands are too sweaty from whatever Roman shoved in me.
“Fuck!” I yell as the wood slides through my fingers.
Chase comes from behind with a low blow that kicks my knees out from under me. I hit the ground again, palms scraping against the grit. The bat slams into the base of my spine. White flashes across my vision right as the pressure hits.
Chase flips me onto my back and jams the wood across my throat, cutting off my air. I claw at it, my fingers slipping and lungs burning.
“You’re weak,” Chase sneers through the mask, leaning his weight into my throat. “You’ll never find her.”
Rage detonates.
I twist, bucking hard enough to throw his ass off balance. My boot connects with his gut in a sickening thud. He stumbles back. I surge up and rip the bat from DeShawn’s grip before he has a chance to blink.
And then start swinging.
Once.
Twice.
A few more rounds of batting practice and they both fold. The air punches out their lungs as they crash to the forest floor. I grab DeShawn by the shirt, rearing my fist back to shatter his jaw.
I’m stopped by a flare shooting up in the sky. It bathes the clearing in a red glow.
DeShawn burts out laughing. Chase joins in, a wheezing sound from the dirt. They both rip their masks off and grin like the psychos they are.
“Damn,” Chase huffs, clutching his ribs. “Not bad, Lex. Almost had us.”
I release my death-grip on DeShawn’s collar and offer him a hand to help him up.
He claps me on the shoulder. “You hesitated when you lost that grip. That shit’ll get you killed in Rome.”
I nod.
He leans down, picks up the bat, and slaps it into my palm. “Keep it. You’re gonna want the extra reach for what’s coming up next.”
???
I brace myself against a tree before stepping out into the next clearing. No matter how hard I try suck in a breath and relax, it won’t even out.
The red glow of the flare hovers over three blurry men in what look like gas masks.
The one on the right looks like he could be Cade.
But I know he’s with Sabine, so it has to be Callum.
Khoza’s on the left. I’d recognize his massive frame anywhere.
And the red-headed brute holding a—I blink, shaking my head to focus.
Shit.
O’Malley’s standing in the middle holding a fucking grenade. He yanks the pin and hurls it at me. I brace for impact when it lands at my feet.
But it doesn’t explode.
Instead, a yellow gas hisses out of the damn thing and burns the shit out of my eyes. I fall to my knees, dropping the bat in the process. It bounces off the dirt and rolls a few feet away. My hands wrap around my throat as the smoke sears my lungs.
“Lex,” Khoza’s baritone cuts through the haze. “The only way to the next flare is through the smoke.”
“Through us,” Cal adds, laughing like a jackass. “Good luck.”
Another canister lands somewhere to my left, doubling the thickness of the fog until I can’t see more than a few feet in front of me.
I drag in a breath and regret it instantly.
“Shit,” I say, fumbling for the bat and forcing myself forward into the fog.