Chapter 18 Ledger
LEDGER
I’m a fucking bastard.
I steer into the last narrow road that’ll take us back to the janky warehouse, my hand flexing around the wheel, mind reeling with the aftermath of what went down yesterday in the shower.
The sounds of her breathy moans. The perfect arch of her slender figure as she bowed to my touch, her legs trembling as she shook with the pleasure I gave her.
My jeans tighten as I replay every second of it, chest heaving with the weight of what I’ve done. The guilt claws its way up, ruthless and familiar, reminding me of just how much of a piece of shit I am for touching something that was never mine to take. I fucked up. Again. Like I always do.
I had no business scattering my filthy, blood-stained hands across her silken, untarnished skin. Skin that always seems to heat beneath my touch, drawing me deeper, as if I could leave some kind of mark on her before we inevitably part. This time for good.
Today was supposed to mark our last day lying low in the shadows as Antonio’s fugitives, biding our time until I finally got the call that, in my mind, would wash away all my previous sins.
Offer all of us a clean slate as we embark on a new journey far away from here.
Different names, a change of scenery, a fresh start.
One where I didn’t have to force myself over her to extract fear and obedience for the sake of our survival. A chance to mend what was broken.
Except now I see just how delusional that line of thinking was, after I fumbled and warped what was supposed to be my display of dominance into an uncharted territory, a murky space that teeters dangerously close to redefining the cold, hard truth to myself.
That I’m a deeply disturbed, sick individual. Someone who pushed manipulation and fear tactics to overpower a girl who didn’t have another option but to submit to my will.
A girl that I was sure was below the legal age.
A girl that I’d illegally kidnapped before shredding every aspect of her old life apart and cruelly reminding her of it each step of the way.
My stomach sours with a heavy churn.
Once I get us all out of this forsaken place, she’ll want nothing to do with me. I’m nothing but the villain in her story, the monstrous murderer who took everything away from her before tossing her aside in some foreign land, abandoned and alone.
She’ll resent me forever. I knew that with every twist and coil inside my gut when I stepped into that shower with her, that this would be the one and only time I’d get to pretend that she wanted me there. That I hadn’t screwed up too badly.
And maybe one day, she’ll realize why it had to be this way. But that day isn’t today.
Right now, every other thought has to be set aside to make room for what matters: tying loose ends and getting the hell out of here before we run out of the last grain in our quickly dwindling hourglass, the countdown flickering at the edge of my vision every time a cop car passes in my periphery.
So far, luck has been in my favor, especially with the added security of being across state borders, but it won’t hold out for too long. Nothing good ever does. We’ve gotten too far to be met with an arrest or stumble into one of Antonio’s men along the way.
After we depart and I sort Frankie and Aria’s living arrangements, I’ll come find Antonio myself. I won’t let Tanner go down in this alone. I swore it.
Aria keeps quiet just as I trained her to, eyes glued to the window, pensive and distant. I’d give anything to be able to get into her head right now. Dig deeper into her thoughts. See how much of them are about how vile and irreparable I am, like I don’t already know it myself.
What happened between us in the shower wasn’t a mutual act of desire or longing by any stretch of the imagination. Although, a flicker of hope has sparked somewhere in my blackened heart, a deeper yearning for something that’s impossible to ask for, especially from a victim.
My victim.
Who am I kidding?
Any affection she’s ever shown me was for survival, nothing more. My conscience won’t let me forget it.
I pull into the wide parking lot, my eyes leaving the rearview mirror to focus on the shiny, new, charcoal gray Dodge Charger parked beside the red pickup truck. My muscles tense almost instantly, my foot easing up on the gas pedal, my vision scanning the otherwise empty lot as I creep forward.
There are two men who work inside, so it makes sense why there’d be two vehicles.
Still, it only appearing now while it was nowhere in view yesterday alarms me, but there’s no need to tense over a detail so miniscule.
Car troubles aren’t uncommon, and neither is sharing a vehicle.
So they drove separately today. No big deal.
“Guess all of us still need to go down together,” Frankie says nervously from the passenger seat as I park near the back entrance, leaving a couple of empty spaces between us and the other two cars.
The locks flick open and I snap my seatbelt off before twisting my neck to the side. “We’ll be in and out this time. Just have to grab the IDs.”
“Right,” she says, her voice almost swallowed by the click of her seatbelt as she shifts herself out of the car.
I follow suit, then yank Aria’s door open and nudge her out. This time she’s quicker to rise, her legs more stiff than shaky, and her eyes planted on my chest. She can’t even bear to look at me.
My tongue darts to wet my lip, pushing away the misplaced anger rising in my chest. “Both of you keep quiet. I’ll do all the talking.”
Frankie shifts to my right and Aria silently nods, her eyes flickering to mine for a beat before they slide to my sister. They inch closer together and fall behind my heel as I spin toward the warehouse, the towering steel doors anticipating our arrival.
Once inside, my eyes dart around in the darkness, my lids narrowing to the corner in the back where Dee last sat, but I don’t make out his figure there.
Nerves climb higher inside me, but I push all feelings of doubt aside. I have nothing to be paranoid over. These guys are close to Tanner. It’s all good.
I push forward. “Jagger?” My voice echoes, bouncing off the towers of cardboard boxes and plastic crates lining the perimeter. “Dee?”
Nobody answers.
A tiny bud of worry coils in my stomach and expands with each step I take, seizing my throat and numbing the tips of my fingers and toes.
I stop walking.
Something’s not right. It’s eerily quiet in here.
Outside, both vehicles were empty.
That can only mean one thing.
“Ledger?” Frankie’s voice cracks from behind me, her fingers lightly grazing the back of my leather jacket.
“Not now, Frankie.”
Slowly, I scan the space between the empty desk and the corner where the photo backdrop still stands, my eyes drifting back to the cleared desk, like the IDs might magically appear the second time I look.
Then a crate scrapes somewhere to my left, sharp and abrupt, before a tall column of them comes tumbling down to a jarring crash.
I whip my head around, legs bent, heels digging into the concrete as I brace for an attack.
Emerging from between the clutter is Jagger’s blurred, lithe frame, his body snapping forward like a spring toward me, a warrior’s cry bursting from his throat.
Shrill screams tear from both girls behind me, rising in frantic harmony, while my own snags in my throat.
I don’t spare either of them a glance. I stay locked forward, determined not to get caught off guard.
My arms shoot up just in time to catch his blow as he slams into me with a spine-jolting force.
It’s enough to throw me off balance, but I manage to get ahold of his elbow as I stagger backwards, twisting his arm until I hear a crack accompanying the howl ripping through his throat.
I use my spare hand to snatch the silver-edged blade out of his grasp while expletives burst from his unhinged jaw, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he yanks his arm away.
I drive the blade into his side, showing no mercy as I force the jab with every ounce of strength in me.
Another scream bursts loose, high and hoarse, but I don’t stop. I yank the knife out, the sharp edge tearing through layers of stubborn muscles, only to plunge it back into him.
Again.
And again.
And again, until his pasty skin takes on a bluish tint and his screams dissolve into hoarse gasps. Satisfaction doesn’t come until I drive the blood-slicked blade into his chest one last time, aiming straight for his heart.
The muscles in my arm strain as I rip the blade out again. His lips remain parted, jaw locked in a silent scream before I discard him into the warm pool of blood circling his lifeless body.
The metallic heat drips from the blade, staining both my hands red as I fist them at my sides.
The pounding in my ears begins to fade, and my focus sharpens to the muffled cries behind me. I stiffen, faltering before I fully turn at the sound of slow, drawn-out clapping and a familiar deep voice. “Well done.”
Recognition siphons the blood from my face as I whip around to face Antonio.
In front of him, Aria and Frankie flank his sides, one on the right and the other on the left, both held tight as leverage.
Aria gnaws her lip, eyes wide and red-rimmed, while Frankie’s lips are drawn tight as tears streak her lashes. On her temple rests a metal barrel.
She whimpers. Her eyes squeeze tighter as more tears spill.
Shit. He has a gun.
My chest buckles.
“Get the fuck away from them,” I growl, shifting forward an inch, only to stop cold as he cocks the weapon against Frankie’s head. She lets out a sob that guts me, but before I can react, everything shifts.
In a blur, Aria slips free of his grip and stumbles away.
“Goddamnit!” Antonio shouts.