Chapter Thirty-Five
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
BARBIE’S WORDS STILL hung in the air like the stench of something rotten. The abandoned hotel off Route 19.
Where Boots had taken Fiona... I was still trying to grasp that piece of information.
We had our location.
Now it was time to move.
Devil didn’t waste any time. He was already barking orders as we readied to ride out, laying out the plan like a general about to lead his army into battle.
“Bolt, Thunder, Horse, Chain—you’re with me. We’re hitting that building hard and fast. No one leaves until we get Fiona,” he said, his voice low and steady, like any of us would leave Fiona behind. “Gatsby and Mystic—you hold down the fort here. If this turns into a distraction, I want the clubhouse covered. Barbie could have well been giving information to Dragon Fire.” He pointed at Josie. “You drive the van. I get the feeling we’ll need it.”
Everyone nodded, no questions asked. The reason was James would die tonight, and we didn’t leave messes behind. Boots would get a club trial if he made it back alive, but my gut tells me he won’t.
As we got ready to head out to the lot, the sound of bikes rumbling to life sent fire through my veins. The roar of engines was like a battle cry, and as I swung my leg over my bike, I felt the cold, steely focus settle in. There was no room for fear now, no room for doubt. Just the road ahead and the mission.
Devil pulled up next to me, his expression grim. “We get in, we get out with no hesitation and no mistakes. Keep a clear head.”
I nodded, gripping the handlebars tighter. “I’m not leavin’ without her.”
He gave me a sharp look, something between warning and understanding in his eyes. “Don’t let your head get clouded, Bolt. We do this smart, or he may do something stupid and don’t let Fiona become a casualty because, trust me, you’ll never get over it.”
I could see this was personal for Devil and I knew he was right, and I had to act with my head, not my feelings.
But fuck, all I could think about was Fiona—where she was, how she was, and the thought of what James might be doing to her made me sick. My chest tightened, anger burning hotter inside me.
The ride to the hotel felt like an eternity, the headlights cutting through the darkness as we sped down the highway. My mind raced with every possible scenario—James holding a gun to her head, Fiona too broken to even cry out for help, the bastard taunting us as we tried to get to her.
I shook the thoughts away, focusing on the road, on the plan. We had to hit him fast before he had time to react. There was no room for mistakes.
As the location came into view, a cold, dark silhouette against the night sky, I felt that familiar surge of adrenaline kick in. The old hotel was run down from being vacant for so long.
We parked the bikes a ways back, creeping in on foot. Devil held up a hand, signaling for us to fan out, to take up positions around the building. My heart pounded in my chest, every breath a struggle to stay calm, to stay focused.
Thunder moved silently beside me, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of trouble. We had one shot at this, and if we blew it, Fiona was done. I wasn’t going to let that happen.
We reached the entrance, Devil put his ear to the door, and he gave the signal. I held my breath, my hand on the grip of my gun, ready to go in, guns blazing if it came to that. Chain crouched by the door, picking the lock with precision, and within seconds, we were in.
I moved into the building, my eyes darting around, seeing and hearing nothing. “What the fuck?” I muttered in frustration.
And then I heard it.
A low, muffled cry. Faint. But unmistakable.
My heart stopped, every muscle in my body tightening.
Fiona.
I pushed forward, faster now, my mind racing. My brother’s right behind me, their guns drawn, as we moved through the maze of corridors and rooms. The sound grew louder, more frantic, and then I saw her.
She was face down on the bed, naked, bound, her face bruised, blood staining the corner of her mouth. But she was alive. That was all that mattered.
“Fiona,” I breathed, rushing to her side.
She flinched at first, her body jerking away from me like she didn’t recognize who I was. Her eyes were wild, filled with terror, and it shattered something inside me to see her like that.
“Fiona, it’s me,” I said, my voice low and urgent as I cut the ties around her wrists. “It’s Bolt. I’m getting you out of here.”
Her gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, I saw all kinds of emotions flickering in her eyes—recognition, hope, relief, and love, but it was quickly swallowed by fear.
“Fiona, baby, we’re gettin’ you out of here,” Horse said softly and then looked at me and whispered, “Take care of her while I find and deliver Satan’s next soul.” But before he could walk off, Fiona spoke.
“He’s here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “James... he’s still here... he ran when he heard... he killed Boots.”
My eyes caught on something lying beside her, a fucking horse whip. The rage that had been simmering beneath the surface erupted inside me like a fire. My back stiffened, my eyes scanning the room, searching for him.
“Where is he?” Horse growled, his grip tightening on the gun in his hand, ready for the kill.
I didn’t need a gun because I was going to tear him apart with my bare hands, ready to end this once and for all, but I still held Fiona. Devil’s voice cut through the fog of rage.
“Focus, Bolt. Get her out of here. We’ll deal with James.”
“Yeah, get my baby girl out of here now,” Horse growled, not coming near Fiona because he would scare the shit out of her right now. He was unleashed, and that made Horse an entirely different person.
I hesitated, every instinct screaming at me to find him, to make him pay. But one look at Fiona, her broken, terrified face, and I knew what I had to do.
I lifted her into my arms, holding her close as I turned back toward the door. “You’re safe now,” I whispered. “I’ve got you.”
THE SECOND I had Fiona in my arms and started outside, hearing her whimpers of pain. I wanted to torture him, and I knew I had to be the man that killed him.
The fuck who had haunted her life, and who thought he could take her from me, from the club, and get away with it. I had her now, her body trembling against mine, but this wasn’t over. Not until that bastard was lying broken at my feet.
“I love you, Fiona and I’ll be right back, I promise,” I whispered to her before I handed her off to Thunder, who nodded, understanding that she needed to be kept safe.
“Take her to the van and take care of her, because I need to handle some shit,” I muttered to Thunder, my eyes already scanning the area for any sign of James. I had to make him suffer, feel it with my own hands, see it with my own eyes. It was the only way I would have any peace.
Thunder hesitated for a moment, then gave a sharp nod. He knew better than to stop me because nothing short of death could. Devil came up, standing beside me, his gaze hard as stone, his gun drawn. He caught my eye, a silent understanding passing between us. This was the moment we’d been waiting for—the moment to end this for good. He knew I needed this for my sanity.
“Where is he?” I growled, my voice low and dangerous.
Devil gestured toward the far end of the old building, where a series of rusted-out metal doors lined the wall. “We think he’s hiding somewhere in there.”
I was going to kill him, feel his life fade away under my hands, and my fists clenched so tight with that need that my knuckles were white. James had nowhere to run and there was no way in hell I was letting him walk out of here alive.
We moved silently toward the doors, Devil and Horse on my left, Chain on my right. The rest of the club was fanning out, covering every exit, ready to close the net around him. This was the way we handled business—calculated, ruthless, efficient.
As we reached the final door, I heard it. The scuffle of movement inside. He knew we were coming.
Good. I would eat on his fear just like he did Fiona’s.
Devil gave me a look, nodding toward the door. I stepped forward, slamming it open with a hard kick. The door flew back, crashing against the wall, and there he was.
James stood in the back of the room, his back to the wall, a wild, desperate look in his eyes. He was holding a gun, his hands shaking, his breathing ragged. The sight of him, that pathetic piece of shit, only made the anger burn hotter in my chest.
“Not so fucking tough when facing a man, are you?” I spat, stepping into the room, my eyes locked on him.
James’s eyes darted between me, Devil, and Horse, panic written all over his face. He had no way out. He knew it. But I could see it in his eyes—he was still thinking about how to play this, still trying to figure out how to escape.
“I don’t want any trouble,” James stammered, his voice shaking. “This was a misunderstanding, alright? I was just trying to talk to her, that’s all.”
“Bullshit,” Horse snarled, stepping closer, aiming his gun at his head. “You hurt my little girl. You don’t get to talk anymore.”
He raised the gun slightly, the barrel wavering between us. His hands were trembling, and it was clear as day that he didn’t have control of the situation anymore. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. A cornered animal is always the most unpredictable.
“Put the gun down, James,” Devil said, his voice steady, his gun trained on him. “This doesn’t have to go the way you think it’s going to.”
Of course, Devil was lying to the pathetic fuckhead to avoid one of our men getting hurt. James wasn’t leaving here alive.
James’s eyes flicked to Devil, then back to me, desperation dripping from his every move. “I just... I didn’t want her to leave, okay? She’s my wife and I love her.”
Those words pissed me off . His wife and he loved her . It took everything in me not to tear him apart right then and there. If he got a shot off, so be it.
“She’s not shit to you,” I said, my voice cold as ice.
He shook his head, sweat pouring down his face, but now his anger was showing. “She loves me. Just because Fiona let you fuck her doesn’t mean anything.”
“Let’s kill him,” Horse muttered from beside me. “Now.”
I took another step forward, barely able to control the rage that wanted me to put a bullet through his skull. “You can’t stand it, can you? That she loves me, that I made her feel so fucking good in a way you never could.”
That hit the mark, his eyes flickering with fury, and he raised the gun fully, aiming it right at me. But before he could pull the trigger, I lunged.
The sound of gunfire exploded in the air, but it wasn’t his gun. It was Devil’s.
The bullet hit him square in the shoulder, knocking him back against the wall. His gun clattered to the ground, and he let out a strangled cry of pain, clutching his shoulder. We didn’t want to give him a quick death, no; he deserved more.
I was on him in seconds, ripping him off the wall and slamming him to the ground, my fist connecting with his jaw. He grunted in pain, his body crumpling beneath me, but I didn’t stop.
I couldn’t stop.
“You’ll never fucking touch her again,” I growled, my fists raining down on him, each punch fueled by the image of Fiona—bruised, broken, terrified. I wanted him to suffer and feel the same pain he gave Fiona over the years.
His face was a bloody mess, his body limp. I don’t know how much time passed before a hand gripped my shoulder, pulling me back.
“Bolt!” Devil’s voice cut through the haze of rage. “Enough.”
I hesitated, my fists still clenched, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I looked down at James, his face and body a ruined mess. He was done. He wasn’t a threat anymore to anyone .
“Get him out of here,” Devil ordered, stepping forward. “You know the drill.”
Chain and Gearhead moved in, hauling James’s broken body off the floor and dragging him out of the room. I stood there, my chest heaving, my fists bloody and still shaking with the need to keep going.
Horse clapped me on the back and said, “Now I believe you deserve Fiona.”
The mention of her name brought me back, the red haze of anger lifting just enough for me to see clearly again. I nodded, stepping back, my breathing finally slowed. “Let’s get out of here.”