Chapter 15 #2
“Somewhere most people don’t know exists,” Dragon replies cryptically. “Somewhere Kit is very familiar with.”
He reaches into his cut, pulling out a handgun. I do the same.
“Stay alert,” Dragon murmurs as we approach the nearest warehouse. “Kit’s always been unpredictable. He’ll be even more so now.”
We approach the nearest warehouse cautiously. I expect to find the door locked, or at least difficult to open after what must be years of disuse. But it swings open easily at Dragon’s touch, the hinges surprisingly silent.
Inside, there’s nothing but dust and silence. Empty space where once there might have been machinery or storage. No sign of recent occupation. No sign of Kayla.
“This way,” Dragon says, already moving toward the door that leads to the next building.
We search the second warehouse with similar results. Empty. Abandoned. No trace that anyone has been here in years, let alone days. My heart sinks lower with each empty room, each dark corner that yields nothing.
The third warehouse is different. As soon as we step inside, I can tell. The dust on the floor is disturbed, footprints crisscrossing the concrete in chaotic patterns. Cigarette butts litter the ground near the far wall, some still fresh enough that I can smell the lingering tobacco.
“Someone was here,” I say, voice tight with renewed hope and fear.
Dragon nods, moving deeper into the space. “Recently too,” he says, bending to examine a discarded food wrapper. “I doubt they’ve been gone long.”
We search more thoroughly, finding evidence of a hasty departure. Forgotten items; a jacket, a half-empty pack of cigarettes, a cheap plastic lighter were left behind in what must have been a rapid evacuation. But there’s no sign of Kayla.
“Viper!” Dragon’s voice echoes from a small side room. “In here.”
I follow his voice, finding him standing in the doorway of what looks like a storage closet that’s been converted into a makeshift cell. A narrow cot with a thin mattress takes up most of the space. No windows. Just a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, currently dark.
And there, half-hidden under the cot, is a crumpled wad of fabric. My heart stops as Dragon bends to retrieve it, holding it up for me to see.
It’s a dress. Green or at least, it was once green, before it was torn and stained with dirt and who knows what else. It’s the same dress Kayla was wearing the night she disappeared. The same dress she wore in Demon’s video.
I take it from Dragon’s hands, the fabric soft and familiar between my fingers.
Bringing it to my face, I inhale deeply, searching for any trace of Kayla’s scent.There’s just the faintest hint, her perfume, the one I bought her last Christmas.
The one she was wearing for our date that never happened.
“She was here,” I say, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. The dress clutched in my hands feels both like proof of life and a death sentence. “They had her here.”
Dragon watches me, his face unreadable. “She was here,” he agrees. “But now they’re gone.”
“How long ago?” I ask, though I know he can’t possibly have a precise answer.
He shrugs slightly. “Based on what I’m seeing… maybe a day? No more than two.”
A day. Just a fucking day. I was so close. If I’d found this place yesterday, would Kayla still be here? Would I have been able to save her?
“They moved her because they knew someone was getting close,” Dragon says, studying the small room. “They left in a hurry. Didn’t have time to clean up properly.”
I carefully fold the dress and tuck it inside my cut, close to my heart. A reminder of what I’m fighting for. A promise that I won’t stop until I find her.
“Where do you think he’d go from here?”
Dragon shakes his head. “I’m not sure yet. I need to call some people.” He turns toward the door. “Come back to the Inferno with me.”
I blink at him, surprised by the abrupt invitation. “What?”
“You heard me.” Dragon glances back over his shoulder. “You can’t keep flailing around blindly anymore. You need allies. And I need to check with my sources, figure out what Kit’s next move might be.”
I look around the small, windowless room where my wife spent God knows how many days alone, frightened, waiting for a rescue that never came. The thought of returning to Billings, to sit and wait while others work the problem, feels wrong. I should be out there looking for her.
“Viper,” Dragon’s voice is almost gentle now. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground for days. And where has it gotten you? You found this place because of my contacts, not yours. Your club has abandoned you. The only way you’re going to find her now is with help.”
I know he’s right. I haven’t slept more than a few hours at a time since she was taken.
I’ve been running on caffeine and fear and rage, and it’s gotten me nowhere.
Kayla is still missing, and I’m no closer to finding her than I was the day she disappeared.
It doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.
“Fine,” I say. “But the second we have any information—”
“We move,” Dragon agrees with a nod. “No delays.”
He turns and walks out of the small room, clearly expecting me to follow. I take one last look around, trying to imagine Kayla here, trying not to think about what Demon might have done to her in this room. The walls seem to close in on me, and I force myself to leave.
Dragon is waiting by the warehouse entrance, his expression grim. “We’ll find her,” he says as I approach, though whether it’s a promise or just empty words to keep me moving, I can’t tell.
I say nothing as we leave the abandoned compound. There’s nothing to say. Either Kayla is alive, or she’s not. Either I’ll get her back, or I’ll spend the rest of my life hunting the man who took her from me. Either way, nothing will ever be the same again.
The drive back to Billings takes hours. I stare straight ahead as miles of forest give way to farmland and then the outskirts of Billings.
My body feels hollow, scraped out from the inside.
I’ve been running on adrenaline for almost a week, and now it’s starting to fade, leaving nothing but bone-deep exhaustion and the knowledge that I failed the one person who mattered most.
Dragon rides ahead of me, and I follow mechanically, my mind too numb to do more than maintain the proper distance.
By the time we pull into the lot behind the Drago’s Inferno clubhouse, the sun is setting, painting the western sky in shades of crimson and gold. I kill my engine and dismount, my movements slow and clumsy with fatigue. My legs feel like they might give out at any moment.
“Come on,” Dragon says, nodding toward the back entrance. “You look like shit.”
I don’t bother responding, just follow him inside. The clubhouse is quieter than it was during my last visit. A handful of members look up as we enter, their eyes following us with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. No one speaks to me directly. I’m grateful for that small mercy.
Dragon leads me to a worn leather couch in a corner of the main room. I collapse onto it, my body suddenly too heavy to support. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, head in my hands.
“I’m going to go make some calls,” Dragon says. “See if there’s any word on where Kit might have gone. You stay put.”
I nod without looking up. Where else would I go? Every lead I had is dead, every avenue explored and exhausted. Kayla is gone. The thought sends a fresh wave of pain through me, so intense it’s almost physical.
Dragon’s footsteps fade as he moves away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. They’re dark, circling like vultures.
I reach inside my cut and touch the folded dress, the fabric soft beneath my fingertips. What kind of husband am I? What kind of man? The answer comes immediately: a failure. I failed to protect her. I failed to find her. I failed to even notice she was missing until it was too late.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, startling me. Almost without thinking, I pull it out and stare at the screen. It’s probably Atlas or one of my former brothers.
Unknown number.
I hesitate, then answer. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Sullivan,” says the last voice I expected to hear. “This is Deputy Colton. We need to talk.”
I straighten up suddenly alert. “What do you want?”
“I figured you’d want to know your wife walked into a gas station on Highway 87 about three hours ago and called the police.”
The words don’t make sense. I stare blankly at the wall opposite me, trying to process what he’s saying. “What did you just say?”
Colton’s sigh crackles through the connection. “Your wife is alive, Sullivan. She was found at a gas station near Roundup. Said she’d been kidnapped and held for nearly a week before being released. She’s at County Memorial now, getting checked out.”
My heart slams against my ribs. Alive. Kayla is alive. The relief is so intense I can barely breathe through it. “Is she—is she hurt?” I manage to ask, my voice barely working.
“Doctors are still with her, but preliminary assessment is that she’s in good health.
Exhausted, some bruising, obviously traumatized, but no major injuries.
” There’s a pause. “The information she’s given us does seem to clear you of involvement in her disappearance. ” That last part comes out grudgingly.
I barely register this. Kayla is alive. She’s at the hospital. She’s safe.
“However,” Colton continues, “I do have some follow-up questions about the activities of your club based on information Mrs. Sullivan provided.”
A new thought cuts through my relief. Kayla called the police. Not me.
“Sullivan? You still there?” Colton’s voice sounds distant, unimportant.
My wife was released, and she went to the authorities instead of calling me.
“Sullivan!” Colton’s voice is sharper now. “I asked you when you last had contact with Kit Bryant.”
I blink, forcing myself back to the conversation. “I need to get to my wife,” I say, ignoring his question.
“We’re not done here—”
“Yes, we are.” I end the call and shove the phone back in my pocket, already on my feet.
Dragon is watching me from across the room, his expression curious. He excuses himself from the men he’s been speaking with and approaches me.
“Something’s happened,” he says, not a question.
I nod, still trying to process the rush of emotions: relief, joy, confusion, hurt. “Kayla’s alive.” The words feel strange in my mouth, almost foreign after days of believing otherwise. “Demon let her go. She’s at County Memorial.”
Dragon’s eyebrows lift slightly, the only indication of his surprise. “He let her go,” he repeats thoughtfully. “Interesting.”
“Interesting?” I echo, anger flaring. “What the hell does that mean?”
Dragon shakes his head. “I just wonder what game Kit is playing now.”
“This isn’t a game,” I snap. “This is my wife.”
“Everything is a game to my brother,” Dragon replies, his voice level. “And he never makes a move without a reason.” He studies my face. “Did she contact you?”
The question hits too close to the raw spot in my chest. “No,” I admit. “She called the police.”
Dragon nods as if this confirms something he already suspected. “Go to her,” he says. “But Roman… Kit didn’t let her go out of the goodness of his heart.”
I’m already moving toward the door, too focused on getting to Kayla to worry about Demon’s motivations. “I need to see her.”
“I’ll come with you,” Dragon says, falling into step beside me.
I don’t argue. Part of me wants to go alone, to have privacy for whatever comes next. But a larger part is grateful for the company, for not having to face this next chapter completely alone.
As we head for our bikes, I can’t stop thinking about why Kayla called the police instead of me. Is she angry? Hurt? Afraid? The possibilities twist in my gut.
But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except that she’s alive. Whatever comes next, whatever damage Demon has done to us, whatever wounds have been opened, we’ll face it together. If she’ll have me. God, I hope she’ll have me.
I kick my bike to life, the familiar rumble grounding me in the present moment. Kayla is alive. Everything else is secondary. I follow Dragon out of the lot, heading toward the hospital, toward my wife, toward whatever remains of the life we once had.