4. 4 Ryder
4: Ryder
“For fuck’s sake. Can we get this show on the road already?” I snap, pacing in tight circles around the old table.
Every second wasted feels like Nico’s laughing in our faces—and worse, like Tori’s suffering more because of it. I’m ready to rip into someone, anyone, just to release this unbearable pressure building in my chest.
“Ryder,” Blaze says, his voice firm, like he’s my parent trying to ground me. He leans forward, bracing himself on the table, though I don’t miss the subtle wince as the movement pulls on his stapled-up abdomen. A freshly made Frankenstein. “We’re going. But if we rush this, it’s going to blow up in our faces again.”
I stop pacing, rounding on him. “If we wait any longer, we’ll lose her! We’ve already got the location—Diablo handed it to us on a goddamn silver platter. What more do we need?”
Blaze doesn’t flinch under my glare, but he doesn’t know I can see the guilt lurking just beneath the surface. It’s eating him alive, clawing at him every time someone says Tori’s name. He blames himself for not protecting her, for getting injured and not being able to fight at full strength. I don’t blame Blaze… not really . But that doesn’t mean I’m not going insane waiting.
“We need to do this right.” Blaze says his words slowly, like he’s forcing himself to focus. “You don’t think I want her back? I’d tear the asylum apart brick by brick if I could. But we’ve got to be smart about it.”
I roll my eyes, letting out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Yeah, because being smart worked so well last time.”
Thorne steps forward from the shadows near the far wall, and I swear the entire room holds its breath. His silence used to be observant, but now? Now it’s different.
Thorne isn’t just quiet anymore; he’s lethal .
It’s in the way he stands, his shoulders back, his hands relaxed at his sides like he’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice. His eyes are dark, almost black in the dim light, and there’s something feral in them. Something unhinged.
“Enough,” Thorne says, his voice low and cold. “We’re not rolling out until we have a real plan.”
I stop pacing, my frustration spilling over. “A real plan? We’ve already got one! You saw the map. You know where she is. What the hell are we waiting for?”
Thorne’s gaze locks on mine, and the sheer weight of it has me biting back the rest of my tirade. “We have pieces of a plan, Ryder. A location, some feeds, but no strategy. You storm in there now, you’ll get her killed—or yourself.”
Blaze straightens slightly, backing Thorne up. “We fucked up last time. We won’t do it again. Nico’s expecting us to come for her, which means he could have set traps. We don’t just need to find her; we need to get out alive with her.”
Rick speaks up from the corner, his voice dry and laced with irritation. “Hate to interrupt the testosterone fest, but maybe someone should remind the class clown here that I’ve already hacked Nico’s security feeds. Numbers are low. The cameras inside the asylum aren’t working, but from what I could see today, activity outside is low. There aren’t too many keeping guard, and given the amount of cars there, I don’t think there are that many Niners who came with Nico here. I’ve done my part… all you have to do now is not fuck it up.”
Rick’s a cocky little tech genius who thinks he’s smarter than all of us combined. He’s not wrong, which is probably why I haven’t shoved his laptop down his throat yet. Still, he’s got the social skills of a porcupine.
“Don’t worry, Rick,” I say with a smirk. “I’ll save some of the credit for you. I know you never get the glory since you’re never really in the fight.”
“Gee, thanks,” he mutters, rolling his eyes and tapping away on his laptop again.
Keagan, lounging on a crate near the back wall, lets out a low chuckle. “Now, now, children. Let’s all get along.’”
Keagan’s all sharp edges and reckless energy, spinning one of his knives between his fingers like it's a fidget and not a weapon. The guy lives for chaos—he’s probably got a list of creative ways to set the asylum on fire already.
“Says the one most likely to stab someone when upset,” I shoot back. “I’ll make sure to get you a shirt that says: Try not to stab anyone you’re not supposed to. ”
He grins at me, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Keagan,” Thorne cuts in, his voice like the snap of a whip. Keagan’s grin falters just slightly before he shrugs and sheathes his knife.
“Let’s focus,” Blaze says, his tone tight, frustration clear in the lines around his mouth. “We need to work out an entry point and a few escape routes in case one gets blocked. Rick, pull up the feeds. We’re finalizing this now.”
Thorne nods sharply. “No one’s leaving this room until we’ve got every detail nailed down.”
I huff but move closer to the table, my adrenaline simmering just beneath the surface. It’s not the all-out assault I wanted, but fine. For Tori, I can keep my head—for now.
“Alright,” Thorne says, voice low, cutting through the chatter and drawing everyone’s attention back to the plan. He leans over the table, his eyes scanning the room like he’s already seeing the battlefield in front of him. “Here’s how we’re doing this.
“Paulo,” Thorne starts, his gaze locking onto the man in question, “you’ll drive. We need you to get us in and out quick. We’re not giving Nico the chance to pull anything. You keep that van steady, and make sure it’s ready to haul ass when we’ve got Tori.”
Paulo just nods, eyes focused, never one for unnecessary words. I can tell he’s already running through the escape route in his head.
“Keagan, Gerardo,” Thorne continues, “You two are our distraction. We need you to keep them occupied. Keep ‘em busy and off our backs while we get in and grab Tori. We’ll move fast, and you'll make sure no one follows us once we’re out. That means you two take care of anyone who tries to stop us.”
Keagan cracks his knuckles, a feral grin spreading across his face. “Fuck yeah. Chaos is my middle name.” He doesn’t wait for anyone to respond, already turning toward Gerardo, who just cracks his neck, a grim smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Max, who’s been quiet so far, steps forward, crossing his arms. “I’ll scout ahead, double back when I’ve got the lay of the land,” he says, his voice steady. “I’ll make sure there are no surprises waiting for us inside. Once I’ve got eyes on things, I’ll loop around to rejoin the group.”
Thorne nods at him. “Be quick. We can’t afford to waste time, Max. This is a one-shot deal.”
Max doesn’t flinch. He’s all business when it counts, which is why we trust him.
Thorne addresses the group, standing straight. “No unnecessary moves, and don’t get caught up in the middle of it.”
Thorne’s eyes shift to Claudia and Rick then. “Claudia, you’re hanging back with Rick and Paulo in the van. If anything starts to go sideways, you’re the first to pull the plug. Marisol, you're with them. If things go bad, we'll need your sniper skills to get out. Got it?”
Claudia nods sharply, her arms crossed over her chest, a quiet intensity about her. She’s the kind of person who stays calm under pressure, and that’s exactly what we need right now. If things go sideways, she'll be the one to patch us up.
“Got it,” Marisol responds, her eyes keen and least focused. She's always been a bad ass, so having her as backup boosts my confidence in this plan.
Rick, sitting with his laptop already in front of him, taps a few keys, eyes glued to the screen. “I’ve got the feeds covered. No one’s seeing us come in, not digitally anyway.” He looks up briefly, his voice laced with dry amusement. “If you guys screw this up, though, don’t blame me when the whole building goes dark.”
Keagan snorts from across the room. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s totally our fault if we blow the place up.”
Rick just gives him a look, unimpressed. “You’d be the one setting it on fire, genius.”
Keagan grins, unbothered. “You know me too well.”
Thorne slaps his hand on the table, silencing the banter. “Enough. Let’s stay focused. We’ve got one shot at this. We move in, grab Tori, and get the hell out. Paulo gets us there. Keagan and Gerardo cause a distraction. Max scouts ahead and loops back. Claudia and Rick keep us invisible. Marisol covers our asses. And Ryder, Blaze, and I will take Tori, and then we’re out fast.”
I feel the air in the room shift—like the calm before the storm.
“We do this right, and it’s the last time we deal with Nico. Get to work, everyone. This ends today.”
Give us a couple of hours and a shit ton of weapons, and we’ve gone from high-class businessmen to mafia hitmen in no time. It’s like slipping into a familiar skin, one I guess I never really shed.
Thorne’s got his usual dead-eyed calm, Blaze looks like he’s two seconds from biting someone’s head off, and Gerardo is meticulously checking his gun, muttering something about precision and efficiency. Then there’s me, stuffing an extra knife into my boot, because you never know when you’ll need to stab a guy in a surprise game of let’s not die today.
“Remember your roles,” Thorne says, his voice clipped and sharp, cutting through the chaos like a blade.
“Right,” I say, flashing a grin even though my chest feels like it’s caving in. “Stick to the plan. Easy-peasy. Break a leg out there, team. Not you, Gerardo—you’ll just slow us down if you actually break something.”
Gerardo shoots me a look, clearly unimpressed, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You’re hilarious, Ryder. Truly. A regular comedian. Maybe you can distract Nico with your stand-up routine while we rescue your girl.”
“Now there’s an idea,” I quip, tossing a gun over my shoulder. “I’ve got a killer set about how his dick must be too small.”
Blaze grunts, clearly unimpressed by my humor.
As usual . Thank you, Blaze. You’re such a great friend.
“Let’s move,” he growls, leading the way out.
Paulo’s crew waits near the vehicles, their gazes flicking toward us as we approach. The growl of an engine rumbles to life, a low, steady sound that sets my teeth on edge. It feels like the calm before a storm—the kind where you know the clouds are about to split open and drop hell right on your head.
“You sure about this?” Paulo asks, his face tight with concern as he leans against the van.
Blaze just gives him a look, the kind that says, ‘ Are you seriously asking me that?’ Paulo raises his hands in surrender and steps back, “Stupid question, got it.“
The ride to the asylum is quiet. Like so quiet I feel like I’m in a horror movie trying to stay silent so the monsters don’t hear us. The van smells like oil and metal, and the only sound is the hum of the tires against the road. I catch Thorne staring out the window, his jaw set like he’s biting back every emotion under the sun. Blaze sits across from me, checking his weapons with that same laser focus he always has. It’s like watching a lion right before it pounces—controlled, dangerous, and yet so graceful.
Gerardo is the only one who breaks the silence. “This better not be one of those setups where we bust in and find a decoy instead of Tori.”
“Wouldn’t put it past Nico,” I mutter, leaning my head back against the van wall. “But hey, if it’s a trap, at least it’ll make for an exciting story later. Assuming we survive, of course.”
Marisol snorts from the front seat, her sharp eyes scanning the road ahead. “You’re a special kind of optimist, Ryder.”
“Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep morale up,” I shoot back. “It’s either that or we all sit here brooding like Thorne.”
Thorne doesn’t even flinch, his gaze still locked on the horizon. “Focus,” he says, his voice clipped.
“See? Cheerful as ever.”
We’re about ten minutes out when the asylum comes into view. It rises from the shadows like some kind of gothic nightmare, jagged and foreboding against the dark sky.
The van slows to a crawl as Paulo pulls us to the side of the road, just far enough to keep us out of sight. Marisol climbs out and heads for the roof with her rifle, and the rest of us step into the cold night air.
The asylum looms ahead of us, its jagged silhouette a monument to bad vibes. The windows are boarded up, the walls stained with decades of who-knows-what, and the entire place smells like moldy despair. It’s a perfect place for Nico to hide out, and I hate him even more for it.
“Max, go,” Thorne orders.
Max nods, slipping into the shadows like a ghost. It’s freaky how quiet he is—like a ninja who read The Art of War and took it way too seriously.
We wait in tense silence, my fingers twitching against my gun. Every second feels like an hour, and I’m half-tempted to crack a joke just to lighten things up, but even I know this isn’t the time.
Max reappears, his face grim. “Looks clear for now. Guards are at the back entrance for now. Movement inside is light.”
“Let’s go,” Thorne says.
We slip into the shadows, moving like ghosts through the crumbling exterior of the asylum. Blaze leads, his movements smooth, while Thorne covers our flank with the same quiet intensity.
Somehow we make it to the door undetected, slipping inside like thieves in the night. The cold air inside reeks of mildew and stale regret. Dust particles float in the faint light filtering through the broken windows.
We cautiously sweep the asylum floor by floor, slipping into empty rooms any time we hear someone coming. Rick was right, there aren’t that many Niners here. The farther we go, the worse the pit in my stomach gets. There’s no sign of Tori. Not a single trace.
“She’s not here,” Blaze growls, frustration lacing his voice.
“She was here,” Thorne says, his tone sharp enough to draw blood. “Look at this.”
He gestures toward a dress I recognize instantly, being the last thing I'd seen Tori in. It's the dress she'd used in her disguise on our failed rescue mission. The same fucking mission that got us here. It’s crumpled in the corner of a room we just snuck into.
The piece of clothing has my stomach in knots and my inner demon demanding blood by the gallon. If he so much as touched her… I'll cut his dick off and feed it to him. Quite literally .
“She’s gone,” Blaze mutters. “They moved her.”
“No shit,” I snap, more to myself than anyone else. My heart’s pounding, my mind racing. I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t do something—anything. “We're not leaving without something.”
Thorne nods in agreement, his eyes so fierce I swear I see hellfire in them.
“Follow me.” He motions, ducking down and sneaking through the hall again. We can hear a few voices, making our way toward them. When we round the corner we see four men just hanging around like this is some sort of funhouse and not a prison for sex-trafficked women.
These fuckers make me sick .
They don't notice us at first, their backs turned. I take that second to slip on some brass knuckles I had tucked in my jacket pocket, and just as Thorne and Blaze take their shots—instantly killing two of them—I punch the third in the face as he turns.
The fourth one charges at me, but Thorne is there to intercept. He pistol whips the guy repeatedly until blood is spattering his face with each new hit. Meanwhile, I'm beating the shit out of this guy, feeling better with each punch.
Blaze pulls on my shoulder, snapping me out of my bloodthirsty trance. “We need him,” he reminds me before I've done too much damage.
I lay off for a second, waiting for the guy to grunt back into consciousness.
“We need to move before someone finds us. I'm sure they heard the gunshots.” Blaze keeps his head as always, already dragging the half alive guy down the hall. He finds an unlocked, unoccupied cell and we all enter.
“Here's the deal, asshole. Tonight you're going to die. There's no question about it,” Thorne promises, squatting down to meet the guy's eyes as he half lays on the ground. “The only choice you have here is how much pain you'd like to be in before you die.”
Jesus. Even I'm quaking in my boots.
Thorne holds his hand out toward me, not even looking my way, but I know what he wants. I dig the blade out of my boot and place it right on his palm. Immediately, he takes it and runs the knife down the side of the guy's arm ever so lightly, slicing it open.
“Where is Tori?” he demands, but the guy only hisses in pain. Thorne digs the knife into the man's thigh, twisting it while covering his mouth so his shouts are muffled. “I asked you a question.”
The guy starts crying, actually crying. Thorne moves his hand and the man starts talking instantly.
“She's in the house,” he responds, his voice shaking with fear. “She's in the house, I swear. Please don't—”
Before he could even finish begging for his life Thorne stabs him in the side of his neck, leaving us to listen to the man choke on his own blood, suffocating on it until he's void of life.
“Let’s go!” I urge, because there's no way in hell we're leaving KitKat behind.
We open the exit door, doing our best to go undetected, but of course things don't go our way.
“Shit!” I duck instinctively as bullets start flying, ricocheting off the metal back door. We've been spotted .
“They know we’re here,” Blaze snarls, pulling his gun and firing back.
“No shit, Sherlock,” I mutter, popping off a few shots of my own. “You think it was the gunshots or the guy's muffled screams that gave us away?”
“This isn’t the time, Ryder!” Blaze barks, but I catch the flicker of a grin as he fires again.
“We need to get to the house,” Thorne orders, pointing to the out-of-place little cottage on the other side of the lot.
We all nod, taking a step forward, only to make it an inch before we have to duck back down behind the wall, the door still open.
“Fuck. We’re stuck,” I mutter, because as much as I would like to be bulletproof, my soft flesh begs to differ.
“We’re not leaving without her,” Thorne growls, taking a step, because his brain is clearly not working, like mine most of the time. I think it forgot to tell him, ‘ hey stupid, that’s not safe . ’ Almost immediately Thorne is struck, a bullet grazing his shoulder, enough to make him back down.
“Thorne!” Blaze shouts, dragging him behind cover.
“I’m fine,” Thorne grits out, though his pale face says otherwise.
“Yeah, you look great,” I say, firing off a round at a Niner trying to flank us. “Bleeding really brings out your eyes. You remember the part where Blaze said we have to make it out alive with her? I like that part. You should like it, too, Thorney. So how about you don’t step into the line of fire again?”
“We can circle around,” Blaze offers, having silently thought things through while Thorne made bad decisions. “If we’re lucky, we can reach the back of the house undetected.”
“Perfect! See, Mr. Grumpy? Blaze has got a plan. Now let’s go get our girl.”
We wait for our moment, seeing Gerardo and Keagan do their jobs distracting the masses. The moment we’re able to, we bolt through the door and round the corner of the asylum, crab walking along the side of the building until we reach the back wall, but just as we turn, we realize how fucked up the asses we really are.
Nico had us fooled. Somehow he knew… he knew we were watching, and now we’re staring at a good hundred Niners coming out of the woodwork quite literally, as they emerge from the tree line.
Thorne shoots, taking down as many as he can and clipping a few more before he’s out of ammo. For a split second, I think he’s going to toss the gun at someone just to keep going, but he doesn't, cursing before he ducks behind the air unit with us.
We all know what we need to do, but none of us want to say it. Fuck, none of us want to do it. She’s here, on the other side of this lot, but she might as well be a whole country away.
We can’t reach her.
“We have to go.” Blaze is the first to admit it. “If we want any chance of saving her and being with her after, we need to leave now.”
Thorne is reluctant—hell, we all are—but Blaze is right, and we know it. I nod and Thorne does the same, nostrils flared and fists tight. Blaze leads the way toward the van, where Paulo waits. Thorne’s shoulder is still bleeding, probably throbbing like crazy, but he moves like he’s perfectly capable.
We’re moving fast now, retreating toward the exit as more Niners swarm the lot. It’s like a goddamn flood, and there’s no way we can hold them off. Thorne takes point, his movements precise even as chaos erupts around us.
Thorne’s dripping blood along the way like a neon sign that says ‘ they went this way,’ but we’re almost there. The van screeches up to the asylum entrance and Paulo leans out, shouting, “Move! Now!”
We don't want to go, but we move toward the vehicle anyway. Blaze is holding his abdomen that I now realize is also bleeding, probably from the fight we had with the assholes inside. Thorne is in no better shape, paling by the minute as he holds his shoulder.
Fuck! I want to save her. I want to go to her right now!
I let out a yell as I pop off all the bullets in my chamber in a mad fury. We couldn't do what we were supposed to do. She's right there, and we can't get to her.
We pile into the vehicle, bullets pinging off the van’s metal exterior as Marisol lays down cover fire, tied down to the roof like a suitcase on a road trip.
“I'm going to kill them all,” I mutter, slamming the door shut.
Claudia is already pressing a wad of cloth to Thorne’s shoulder while Blaze does the same to his abdomen. There’s a jolt, shaking the whole vehicle, and then the door is sliding open again to reveal Keagan’s wicked grin and Gerardo on the ground.
“I think you hurt the wrong guy,” I grunt as I help him lift the big guy in.
“It wasn’t me this time, I swear,” Keagan defends himself, closing the door again as we speed off.
Gerardo’s placed on the floorboard right at Claudia’s feet, swearing like a sailor on vacation. His leg was shot, it looks like. I take my belt off and help Claudia tourniquet his leg, but my mind is still back at the asylum, with her.
I'm going to rescue you, KitKat, and when I do, I'll rip Nico limb from limb.