CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
Axel and his men eat it up. Their laughter erupts, loud and harsh and grating, like nails on a chalkboard.
“Yeah, but they sure make the long nights less lonely,” Axel says, smirking.
Michael’s fists are clenched so tight his knuckles are bone white. I can feel the anger rolling off him, and mine’s crawling under my skin, chewing through the last of my patience.
I suck in a breath. Then another. Then one more. Just to hold it all back before I answer.
“There’s no one with us.”
Axel sighs.
“Guess we’ll have to keep looking,” he says, turning to his men. “Noah, Jacob, let’s hit the road.”
They climb into their red truck, slow and deliberate, just to show us they’re in no hurry.
Axel leans out the window and flashes a dead-eyed grin. “Good luck out there.”
I don’t say a word. I just watch as the truck kicks up a thick cloud of dust and roars down the road, heading back the way it came, gravel spitting from under its tires.
Ryan comes to my side. “That was close.”
“Too close,” I agree, turning toward the parking lot where Sarah and Lorelai are waiting, out of sight.
“If they found out about the girls…” Michael starts, then cuts himself off before finishing the thought. He doesn’t need to say it. We’re all thinking the same damn thing.
I’ve dealt with more dangerous men than I can remember. But Axel’s different. It’s not just what he said, it’s how he said it. He’s not just some gang leader looking for a quick score. He’s a fucking predator, and he’s hunting.
“We need to move,” I say. “Grab the gas and tires.”
Michael and Ryan jog back toward the workshop, but I hesitate, my eyes glued to the horizon where Axel’s truck fades into the distance. Something in my gut twists. This isn’t over. I fucking know it. And sure enough, just as I turn to follow them, a sharp screech of tires tears through the air.
I whistle for them, and Michael veers back toward me, just as the red pickup pulls some wild-ass spin before speeding straight back our way.
“They’re coming back!” I shout.
I bolt for the workshop. Michael’s right beside me, until he stumbles and crashes to the ground with a loud grunt.
“Shit!” he hisses, grabbing at his knee.
I glance down and see blood already running down his leg, soaking through his jeans.
“I got you.” I grab his elbow and haul him up. His hand clamps onto my arm as he finds his footing.
We reach the workshop just as the truck tires crunch up behind us on the gravel. As soon as we slam the gate shut, I fumble for the padlock and snap it into place, plunging us into near-total darkness.
A few weak streaks of light sneak in through cracks in the walls. It’s not much, but it’s enough to see one thing clearly: We’re trapped.
I stay planted near the entrance, Michael on my right, Ryan on my left. The air reeks of tires, oil, and sweat.
“Is there any other way in?” I hiss, not taking my eyes off the gate.
“I-I don’t know,” Ryan whispers. “I think this is it.”
Outside, Axel’s truck engine fades, swallowed by silence—
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The metal gate rattles hard, a heavy pounding shaking the whole workshop as Axel and his men slam against it like they’re ready to rip it off its hinges. Then, just as fast, it stops.
The silence creeps back in, heavier than before.
A long minute drags by before the truck engine growls to life again, and the tires crunch on the gravel as they drive off.
“Are they actually leaving?” Michael asks.
I reach for the padlock, pop it open, and try to lift the gate.
It doesn’t budge.
My brow furrows. “Wait, what?”
I try again, yanking harder this time. Still nothing. The gate won’t give. Then I hear a soft, metallic clink on the other side.
Chains.
My stomach drops.
I look back at Michael and Ryan. “They chained it. They locked us in.”
Of all the shit they could’ve done—shoot us, crash through, light the damn place up—this? I didn’t see it coming.
“NO!” Ryan yells from somewhere in the shadows.
He runs at the gate, slamming into it. Michael joins him a second later, limping. Together they yank and haul with everything they’ve got, but all we hear is the sound of those fucking chains rattling louder, mocking us.
Michael turns to me. I can’t see much of his face in the dark, but I catch his eyes, wide, confused, and pissed all at once. “Why lock us in if they think the gas’s in here?”
Good question. Why the hell would they do that?
I pace back and forth. My mind won’t shut up. Axel’s voice is still in there, picking at me.
“Any other gas stations around here?”
“We already checked the rest of the highway. There’s nothing else left out there.”
That smirk he gave me when I answered his stupid question.
Now it makes sense. He wasn’t asking about gas.
He was sniffing for weakness, and I fucking gave it to him.
I basically told him not to head down the highway.
And if he already knew about the fence in the woods, then this is his turf.
He knows I lied. He knows that parking lot’s out there, just two miles away, with the blue truck sitting there like bait.
“They know. Sarah and Lorelai. They fucking know!” I shout. “It’s not about the gas. It’s the girls. That’s who they’re after. They figured out we were hiding something, and now they’re coming for them!”
“Can’t be,” Michael mutters, but it’s hollow. He shakes his head, trying to deny it, but I see it in his eyes. He’s putting it together too. “Shit.”
I slam my fist into the gate. Pain flares up, white-hot, but I don’t give a fuck.
Ryan grabs my arm, his grip tighter than I expected, and pulls me to a stop. He’s shaking. Hands cold. The guy’s barely holding it together.
“James, please… It’s Lorelai. I can’t lose her.”
That hits me harder than the gate. He already almost lost her once. I saw it in his face back at the pharmacy. And now this.
I drag a hand through my sweaty hair, trying to think, trying not to lose it. But just the thought of Sarah in danger? It’s like someone’s dumping gasoline on my anger.
“We need to find another way out. Right now!”
I spin around, my eyes darting over every inch of the workshop. There has to be another way out. A vent, a trapdoor, hell, even a crawl space.
My hands run along the walls, the rough bricks scraping my palms. My breath comes out in ragged bursts as I fight the urge to scream. Then my fingers snag on something smoother, out of place, hidden behind a dusty shelf. It’s metal, not brick.
I yank the shelf aside, heart pounding. It crashes to the floor, and I’m face-to-face with a door.
I grab the rusty doorknob and yank hard. Nothing. Not even a wiggle.
Screw it. I don’t bother trying again. Instead, I hurl myself at the door, slamming into it with everything I have.
Michael and Ryan are on me in a heartbeat, and then it’s all three of us, hammering on that damn door together. My muscles are screaming, but stopping isn’t even an option.
The door gives with a crack. I stumble out, straight into a wall of blinding light. I blink a few times as sunlight slams into me. My eyes sting, and it takes a second to adjust, but when they do, I scan the area.
There’s nothing. No sign of the truck. Just the empty gas station and that long, lonely highway fading into the horizon. Fuck!
Ryan steps out next, and Michael’s right behind him, dragging his leg worse than before.
I rush to his side. “Michael, here.” I slide an arm around his back, steadying him. “Put your weight on me.”
He stumbles again, his face twisting in pain.
“How bad is it?” I ask, eyes already on the highway.
“Deep,” he grits out.
We barely clear the doorway when the afternoon silence shatters into a thousand sharp pieces.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Four gunshots. Distant, but close enough to rattle my bones.
“Sarah.”