Cade (Dark Valor #3)

Prologue

Cade

This fucker is going to put one between my eyes.

I know that. And Bradford knew that when he sent me off with Turner ‘Trigger’ Martin. That’s what guys like him do. That’s how he ended up a Raider, and I ended up…

Well, never getting very fucking far at all.

‘You’re nothing without me,’ a voice seethes in my ears.

“Fuck you,” I mumble.

“What was that?” Turner gives me an uneasy eye from the front seat, his lips set in a flat line.

“Nothing.” I brace against the seat of the pickup as Turner drives us south. “So, you’re gonna shoot me in the flatlands?”

Turner’s gaze jumps back to me for a split second, a grim expression on his face. “Never said I was going to do that.”

“Never said you weren’t either.” I pop my jaw, and my mind drifts to my sister. If I ever loved someone it was probably Jenna.

But I tried to choke her to death, too.

She looks too much like my mother.

“You mind if I turn on the radio?” Turner gives me that cautious look like we weren’t partners in crime, like he’s not just as fucking crazy as me.

“Sure.”

His PTSD dog resettles in the seat in front of me, and a strange pang of jealousy hits my chest. How nice it would be to have someone—even if it’s a damn dog—to come for you when something slips in your head.

Some stupid country song rattles the cab of the pickup, grating my nerves.

My wrists ache from the sharp plastic cutting into my skin, and I shift, a sharp pain shooting up my lower back. It feels like my head is stuck in a vice, too. I try to ground myself in that sensation.

“If you’re gonna do this,” my mouth starts moving without my consent, “just put one between my eyes.”

He doesn’t even look at me. “No.”

“Okay, so you prefer to take your shot at my back? Send me running, then drop me?” A foreign cackle escapes my lips as I rest my head against the back glass of the pickup.

“Believe it or not, I will get no fucking thrill from this. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Or why the hell he thought I could handle this.” His voice is devoid of any emotion at all, and I envy him.

I always feel too goddamn much. About everything.

I let myself slump down in the seat, and with every bump in the road, my headache grows. I squeeze my eyes shut, and my black lids flash with the sight of my sister.

The horror on her face when I had my fingers wrapped around her throat.

All I could see was my mother. My mother coming into my room to bring me water after my stepfather did what he did to me.

You never stopped him. For years.

Fuck everyone. Rage boils in my veins. When the demon comes out of me, there’s no one that can control him. Not Bradford. Not my sister.

Not even Ben Knight.

Bile rises in my throat as those dead blue eyes fill my eyes. He was the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in my life.

And now he’s the one who wants me dead.

Before I can think any more about that, Turner takes an exit, nearly throwing me across the backseat. His jaw ticks, his eyes darkening as I catch them in the rearview mirror.

He’s gonna lose it when it’s time to do this.

And love every minute of it.

I take a deep breath. I don’t stand a chance with my arms behind my back, and as I look out my window, my stomach drops.

No Man’s Land. We’re in No Man’s Land.

“What did you do?” Turner takes a random dirt road, fishtailing as he smashes the gas pedal again.

“What haven’t I done?” I snap, trying to right myself against the warm leather seats.

“To get the capital murder charge, what did you do?” Turner’s voice stays monotone. “I know you killed two Marines, but why?”

My lip twitches, my head igniting with the sounds of Corporal Laney Rodriguez’s screaming.

‘You don’t have to do this, Cade. You don’t have to. It was just roleplay.’

I didn’t hear her then. But I sure as hell hear her now.

“Come on,” Turner presses. “Just tell me what you did.” He takes another hard right, dust flying behind us.

I notice the GPS in his lap, playing on his phone. Fucker got directions to a drop spot. Gritting my teeth, I feel the spike of adrenaline, my vision starring.

Keep your grip, Cade. Keep your grip. You knew they were gonna put you down.

“You killed a woman,” Turner keeps fucking running his mouth. “That’s fucked up.”

“I don’t remember.” Which is somewhat the truth.

“Bradford said your buddy Dylan was banging his girlfriend—”

“Shut up,” I cut him off, my voice dropping to a whisper.

‘Stop, Dylan. Please stop. It’s too much,’ Laney’s pleading plays in my ear, as the image of Dylan railing her in the ass, bent over the couch of our Airbnb, floods my vision.

I can smell the sex. I can smell him.

And I see red. Sex makes a man weak.

I don’t have sex. I don’t watch it.

“Easy, Cade,” Turner’s voice sounds distant. “Easy.”

Warm liquid rolls down the palm of my hand, the zip ties now breaking the skin of my wrists. My chest heaves, and I gasp for oxygen.

I can’t fucking breathe.

“Get me out of this fucking truck,” I explode, the dark cab closing in on me. “Get me out. Now.”

Turner ignores me.

“Get me out!” I scream, my senses drowning. I throw myself at the back passenger door, and Gunner, the dog, lets out a powerful bark.

“Cade!” Turner’s voice breaks into a shout. “Chill the fuck out!”

I shake my head, my vision blurring and my body breaking out in a cold sweat. I need to get out. I need air. I need it now.

My shoulder slams into the door once more, colliding with the window. A grunt slips from my lips, pain searing down my arm.

“You’re gonna fucking kill yourself,” Turner groans. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He should know. He gets blackouts.

I just stay lucid in mine. Kind of.

The truck comes to a jarring stop, throwing me into the back of the seat in front of me. I register the engine cutting. A door slamming. And finally, I feel a blast of cold air.

And then the thud of the ground.

I taste the grit of the earth and the copper of blood as my nose takes the brunt of the fall.

“Goddamnit,” Turner mutters under his breath, reaching down and plucking me up by the bicep. I come up to my knees, the moonlight illuminating his eyes.

And for a moment, I see Ben Knight.

Kill him.

I lunge, but Turner is faster, shoving me backward into the metal side of the truck. Gunner howls from inside, his deep bay rattling the windows.

Turner’s expression darkens.

I shake it off, spit blood, and climb to my feet. I’ve got two inches on him, and I roll my shoulders as I hold his gaze.

It’s my demons against yours.

Turner racks his rifle. “Walk.”

“No,” the noises in my head fade to just a dull buzz. “You can blow my fucking brains out on your fancy truck. Drive it back and let my sister see what you’ve done.”

He grins, aiming the barrel at my chest. “I don’t give a fuck about your sister.”

I tilt my head and take a step forward, the metal digging into my sternum. “Then do it, Trigger. Kill me. What was that saying that Bradford said?” I pause, letting my weight rest against it. “Oh yeah, sometimes you gotta put a good horse down.”

“You were never a good horse.”

Something falters in my chest. “But I wanted to be.”

Turner’s expression flickers. “Me, too.” He pauses, and then sighs. “Turn around.”

I take in a deep breath. This is it. Just accept it. It’ll be over. No more pain. I swallow the grit in my mouth, angle my body away from the truck, and drop to my knees. Out across the flatlands, there’s nothing. No lights but the moon and stars.

No one will find me out here. Not for a long time.

I stare at it, determined to die with eyes wide open.

And then my hands drop to my sides.

What the fuck? I glance down at my hands, free of zip ties. Is this a test of some sort? Carefully, I glance back over my shoulder. Turner stands a couple of feet back, rifle in the ready position.

“I’m gonna count to four,” he nearly whispers. “And then I’m gonna take one shot. You can die to my bullet or die of the elements. Make your choice.”

It crosses my mind to turn around and attack. But I don’t.

I fucking run.

A crack of a rifle sounds. He doesn’t have night sights.