44. Bay
FORTY-FOUR
bay
My skin crawls as I enter the abandoned building Torin led us to.
It’s not because I believe Pretty Boy is going to off me. He was too busy eye-fucking my cut-off shorts and rolled-up tee for me to second-guess what I’m doing by going with him anywhere . But because I know he’s aware he fucked up.
Haven’t we all?
It’s not at the top of my priority list to forgive him. Nor even think about it.
With The Nameless on my heels, we step over spray cans and endure the smell of mold on something—or someone—rotting away.
The building looks like it could collapse in on itself at any given moment. Cement walls are chipped away, years upon years of neglect are starting to outshine the once-graffiti-colored walls, and electrical wires dangle overheard.
It’s a shithole.
Perfect for my ex and his last resting place.
Torin leads us deeper into the decrepit structure, and I can feel some of the excitement strumming off his shoulders.
His deep-rooted hatred for Matteo is almost as unmatched as mine, but he wasn’t the one dating him once upon a time.
It’s no secret Torin has been itching to get his hands on my ex for the longest time. The boy who chased me around—with zero fucks that I already had a man— was the same one who wanted nothing more than to rid Matteo of this earth for all the turmoil he put me through.
I didn’t spend the energy on it.
Until recently.
Pretty Boy suddenly stops in front of a doorway and pivots, towering over me with a small, mischievous lift to his lips. “He’s a bit busted up, Wildfire. And when he sees you, he’s going to be hella pissed.”
“So?”
He smiles. “I’m just warning you.”
A broken tsk escapes my lips. There isn’t anything about Matteo I don’t know. Especially with his temperament and pride. “Thanks.”
Torin moves without another word, spiking my blood pressure. I’m about to face my dumbass of an ex, and he’s going to do nothing but spit out threats and violence.
I’m afraid I might do something rash.
Yet I promised Levi I’d stay away, and he’d stay alive.
Moving inside, I unconsciously hold my breath and search the vacant space for Matteo.
He’s not hard to find.
The man who abused me, put a hit on my best friend, and made me lose my unborn child is standing in the middle of it, chained to the ceiling and caked in blood.
His gaze is already locked onto mine, but I don’t receive an immediate glare.
No, I get a smug expression, as though I’m the one under his control.
“I knew you’d come to me,” he quips confidently as I notice only one arm is suspended in the air. “You always knew what was good for you, Bay.”
Begrudgingly, I search for his other arm, but I don’t see it.
At all.
“Torin,” I whisper, feeling the familiar churn of bile rising from my gut. He immediately appears on my right, before he steps between my sight of Matteo and crooks my chin up with his index finger.
“Yes?”
God…he’s so fucking infuriatingly pretty. All-American god. He’s perfect.
My next exhale is involuntarily shaking, and Pretty Boy picks up on it instantly.
“Do you wanna go?”
“No,” I quickly retort, even though… “Where is his…arm?”
Torin pushes one of his cheeks out with his tongue, then says softly, “Ozzy got mad.”
I gape at him.
Like a dumbass.
Just full-on open stare, no words coming out.
“We had…someone come in so he didn’t bleed to death,” Torin continues through my speechlessness. “We didn’t want?—”
“Get away from my girl, Wildes,” Matteo barks out. “She didn’t come here to see you.”
Pretty Boy doesn’t move. His jaw tics ever-so-annoyingly, but he doesn’t snap back with anything.
“I got it,” I manage to get out. “I’m fine.”
“Maybe this was a bad idea.” A retort is about to roll off my lips, but the pad of Torin’s thumb gently brushes and descends over my cheek ever-so-softly, and it slices right through it. “He doesn’t deserve to see you.”
My chest tightens at how thoughtful he's being, but I know it’s the teether that hasn’t fully severed between us yet.
The one that won’t fuck off.
“Five minutes,” Torin says diplomatically. “Then we’re leaving.”
Fine with me.
He moves to give me my moment but stays right at my side the whole time. I can’t help but accept his comfort in this awkward position.
Everything screams at me to leave.
Even when Matteo’s dark eyes connect with mine, I can feel the evil in the room.
The same one who kicked my child from this world.
“Couldn’t come without your lap dog?” he taunts like a dumb-ass bitch. “I’m disappointed.”
“I’m disappointed you got caught after evading everyone for so long,” I mindlessly shoot back. “You were so desperate to see me that you fucked up and allowed your emotions to get the better of you. Bad play.”
His nostrils flare the tiniest bit, but he quickly fixes it. “I could say the same about you. How was your visit with Muncy?”
“Short.”
An arrogant smirk tugs at his lips. “Stupid motherfucker never could make anything stick.”
“Another stupid move.”
He shifts his weight to get comfortable, but I see him wince a bit from the pain I’m sure he’s enduring.
Matteo is black and blue. Besides the missing arm from my fuckin’ husband, God only knows what else they’ve done besides the obvious.
“What’s your play?” Matteo solicits evenly. “Have me killed?”
I stare back at my ex with zero emotion. I think it’s been sucked out of me wholeheartedly.
I can’t bring myself to care about this.
Even after everything he’s done to me…I can’t do anything to fix it. It’s just another thing he took from me.
That I’ll never get to experience or take back.
“Earth to Bay,” he sneers, and it prompts me right back to her.
Nessa.
With a gun pointed at Travis.
With her betrayal sifting through the air.
With my bullets still in her body.
“Don’t underestimate me.”
I never have.
Or so I thought.
Nessa was something I didn’t see coming. How many others has he manipulated and bought?
Are some of them standing around me right now?
Stepping back, I lightly bump into Torin’s body, which earns me his hand on my hip, and I shove it away.
I don’t want to be touched.
I don’t want to be looked at.
I don’t want to be anything.
“What’s wrong?” Torin asks attentively, and this is too much.
I thought I could handle this just fine, but I’m not there . The glumness on my chest, which has already sunk its way into my heart, won’t lay off me just yet.
I miss Dad.
“You underestimate her, Wildes,” my ex announces just to hear himself talk. “Do you honestly believe she’ll keep you around now that she’s Queen of South Shore? You’re never going to become king. Now, she’s the heir of The Landings, she’ll either die, and they’ll kill you, or she’ll actually pull it off, and they’ll still kill you.”
“Dino,” Torin orders sharply, stepping away, and I instantaneously miss his body warmth. Make up your mind, Astor . “Get her to the car and drive her home. No stops. Ozzy is there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Whoa.
Glimpsing over my shoulder curiously at the man who has the damn politeness of someone born in high society, that’s when the loudest thing I’ve ever heard in my life cracks through the air with a boom.
My ears instantly ring before I’m pulled back and surrounded by men in white masks. It feels like a sledgehammer was taken to my head as I stretch my jaw, tucking my chin into my chest to blink off the deafening sound of nothing.
Then I hear the argument of male voices and chaos.
Guns click back to lodge a bullet in their barrels.
And I can’t see a fucking thing with ten-foot-tall walls of muscle blocking my every move.
“This is a nice set-up. A little dusty, though.”
“Are you fuckin’ insane ?” Torin . “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I came for my ward.”
Who the fuck is that?
I can barely hear the voice from the profound thundering roar in my ears, but I remain hidden, like The Nameless wanted me to be, I guess.
I’m good with that.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Torin shoots back. “You had to blow half the wall off to make an entrance now?”
“And killed most of the men outside. Sorry about that.”
It’s Ramsey.
He’s closer now.
And this was planned.
I knew Matteo’s capture was too good to be true. It also doesn’t take a genius to know he’s here for my ex.
He’s been playing house with my ex.
He’s conspiring with my ex.
“I see the game we’re playing now,” Torin grinds out. “Though, shit, Rams…you sunk low.”
“Depends who you ask.”
“Get me the hell out of here!” Matteo bellows out impatiently. “I need a?—”
“Shut the hell up,” Ramsey cuts in coolly. “I have something for my brother first.”
A scuffle enters the room, and I step closer, looking through a small space between Nameless bodies to see what the hell is happening.
“A king for a king, Torin,” Ramsey says evenly. “Emilio for Lorenzo.”
No.
I begin to slither my way through the guys, but I’m suddenly gripped by the shirt and pulled back into the middle of the circle.
A shitty remark rolls to the tip of my tongue, but I opt for action, unholstering a Glock from one of the waistbands of the men to my side.
They came strapped. All of them have weapons pointed toward the other side of the room, but ol’ boy over here had a secondary.
“Miss Astor,” one of them pleads, a voice I don’t register at all. “ Please …”
“Don’t worry, princess,” I hear Ramsey muse somewhere. “I know you’re there.”
My shoulders tense at the acknowledgment and rise in a swell of fury at the taunt. At the reality he somehow got through to where we were.
Not that it was hard.
We’re in The Landings.
“You’re not killing Lorenzo, Rams,” Torin says collectedly. “But that’s cute.”
“Aren’t I? There’s no use for him.”
I pivot on my feet, seeking the man who just spoke and asked me not to act a fool out here. “That can’t happen.”
All I register is the man is tall as shit with hazel eyes and the famous white mask.
That’s it.
“He has several rocket launchers pointed at us, miss,” he mutters under his breath. “You need to get out of here.”
What. In. The actual. Fuck?
“Slither through us,” another male to his left says. “Go through the hall and make a right. Keys to the red Ford truck are in the visor.”
I can’t leave him.
Them.
I begin to shake my head, but the original man I sought after says, “Now.”
My feet don’t move at his direct order. They’re like moving cemented shoes.
“Miss, we don’t have a lot of time,” the other urges. “Please. We’re under direct orders from Mr. Wildes?—”
“You can’t let anything happen to him,” I cut in tersely through a whisper. “Do you understand? He’s your king. I don’t care if you all don’t like it?—”
“We’ll do our best?—”
“ No ,” I snarl through clenched teeth. “It’s your only option. Neither him nor Lorenzo Black are harmed.”
You are asking them to Ironman a bunch of fucking rocket launchers, Astor. What do you want them to do?
Perform a miracle pretty much.
“Backup is on its way,” someone else says. “Five minutes.”
“Make it quicker.”
“They can’t time warp,” the other leers. “We need to buy time.”
“I count six guys with launchers,” another states from somewhere to my left. “We got one shot, literally, to not miss.”
“Leave Zeke out because he shoots like shit.”
Are they seriously arguing with each other right now?
“Miss Astor,” the man in front of me prompts. “You have three minutes to get out of here.”
“Hallway,” the other repeats. “Make a right.”
Ellie. Mae. Levi.
Fuck this up, and I won’t be around.
With all the strength I have, I follow their instructions, but every inch away from Pretty Boy feels like forever.
It feels like I’ll never see him again.
It feels like I’m signing his death warrant.
I’m leaving him to fend for himself, with men who don’t necessarily serve him and expect them to listen to me.
To protect him.
From his psycho brother and my armless ex.
You can’t leave him. He’s never going to walk out of here if you do.
Fishing my phone out of my jeans, I make it to the hallway I was directed to and make the right.
However, I stop at the wall and place my spine to it.
BAY: How quickly can you send a message to Torin to get him out of this warehouse?
OZZY: Get out of the building.
BAY: Answer me. They have Lorenzo. I need you here.
OZZY: I’m already here.
BAY: Get him out.
OZZY: Working on it.
OZZY: Go.
It’s the trust I have for him that gets me out of the shitty warehouse and into the red truck I was instructed to get into.
It’s his capabilities that have my brain telling me to have faith.
But he’s one man.
Against a bunch of assholes with weapons of war.
You can’t call the cops.
You can’t stride back in there and make a difference with a Glock.
What can you do?
When I get to the red truck, I yank the door open and climb inside, fidgeting with the idea of doing something.
Then, I see the random M-80s lying on the passenger side of the floor like an act of God, small yet loud as shit.
I know there’s a lighter in here.
My eyes look out the windshield, searching the building for a way up to the roof.
There’s a janky ladder.
And that’s all I need to make a distraction to possibly turn the tide of what’s about to happen.
“You’ve got me fucked up if you think you’re about to go back in there.”
I jolt from the muffled voice on the other side of the driver’s side window before my head snaps in the direction of it.
White mask.
Massive shoulders filling out by a black tee.
That thick octave rumbling through my eardrums and settling in my veins.
Levi.