Chapter Thirty-Five
Alex
The concrete was cold against my knees. So cold it burned through the thin fabric of my sweatpants, biting into my skin with a vicious, unrelenting ache that spread up my thighs and into my hips. But the cold was nothing compared to the sound.
The wet, meaty thud of knuckles connecting with flesh. The sharp crack of bone against bone. The ragged, desperate gasps of men trying to breathe through broken noses and split lips.
Oscar’s face was a mess of blood and bruises.
His left eye was swollen shut, the skin around it purple and grotesque.
Blood dripped from his nose, from his mouth, pooling on the concrete beneath his chair.
His head lolled forward, chin against his chest, and for a horrible moment I thought he was unconscious.
Then Garrote grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back, and Oscar’s one good eye opened, unfocused and glassy with pain.
“Please,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “Please, Alex. Tell them what they want to know.”
My brother’s words hit me like a physical blow.
No. No, Oscar, don’t ask me that.
Garrote’s fist connected with Oscar’s jaw, and the sound was sickening. A wet crunch that echoed through the basement, followed by Oscar’s choked cry of pain.
I tried to look away. Tried to close my eyes, to turn my head, to do anything to escape the sight of my brother’s blood dripping onto the floor.
But Carver’s hand was in my hair, his grip iron-tight, holding my head in place.
Forcing me to watch. “Eyes open, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice clinical and detached.
“You need to see this. You need to understand what your defiance costs.”
Tears streamed down my face, hot and useless. My throat was raw from screaming, from begging, from pleading with them to stop. But they didn’t stop. They never stopped.
Morpheus stood off to the side, leaning against the concrete wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked almost bored.
Like this was just another Tuesday. Like watching my brother get beaten to a pulp was no more interesting than watching paint dry.
That calm, detached expression was more terrifying than any rage could have been.
Because it meant he didn’t care. Didn’t care about Oscar’s pain, or Nano’s, or mine.
This was just business. Just another problem to solve. Just another lesson to teach.
And I was the student.
Scythe circled Oscar’s chair, his boots heavy against the concrete. He flexed his fingers, knuckles already split and bleeding from the punches he had thrown. Then he turned his attention to Nano.
Nano, who sat bound and gagged in the chair beside Oscar.
Nano, whose eyes were locked on me with an intensity that made my chest ache.
Nano, who looked like he wanted to tear the entire basement apart with his bare hands.
But he couldn’t. Because he was tied down. Because Morpheus had made sure of it.
Because I had refused to speak.
This is my fault. This is all my fault. The thought circled through my mind like a vulture, picking at the rotting corpse of my defiance.
I had thought I was being strong. Thought I was protecting myself by keeping Michael’s location secret.
Thought I had leverage. But I didn’t have leverage.
I had nothing. Nothing except the two men I loved most in the world, bleeding and broken because of my stubbornness.
“Please, Alex,” Oscar said again, his voice cracking. “Please. Just tell them. He’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”
My brother’s words shattered something inside me.
You’re not worth it. He was right. I wasn’t worth this.
Wasn’t worth Oscar’s blood on the floor.
Wasn’t worth Nano’s rage and helplessness.
Wasn’t worth any of this. But I still couldn’t speak.
Couldn’t force the words past the knot in my throat.
Couldn’t betray the leverage I had left.
The leverage that Michael was out there somewhere, and I was the only person who knew where.
If I gave that up, I had nothing. I was nothing.
Garrote threw another punch, and Oscar’s head snapped to the side. Blood sprayed across the concrete, dark and viscous. He coughed, choking on it, and I watched in horror as he spat a mouthful of blood and what looked like a tooth onto the floor.
“Stop,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Please stop.”
But no one listened. No one cared.
Morpheus pushed off the wall and walked toward me, his boots echoing in the silence between punches.
He crouched down in front of me, his eyes level with mine, and for a moment we just stared at each other.
“You think you’re protecting yourself,” he said quietly.
“You think keeping this fucker’s location secret gives you power. Gives you control.”
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t.
“But you’re wrong,” he continued, his voice calm and measured. “You don’t have power, Alexandra. You never did. The only thing you have is the illusion of it. And that illusion is costing your brother his face.”
He stood, turning away from me, and nodded to Scythe. “Let’s see if we can motivate her a little more.”
Scythe’s smile was slow and predatory. He crossed to Nano’s chair, leaning down until his face was inches from Nano’s.
Nano’s eyes widened, and I saw something flicker across his expression.
Something that looked like fear as Scythe whispered something in Nano’s ear.
Something I couldn’t hear. Something that made Nano’s entire body go rigid.
And then Scythe pulled a knife from his belt.
No. No, no, no!
The blade flashed in the dim light, and then Scythe drove it into Nano’s thigh.
Nano’s roar was muffled by the gag, but the sound was still deafening.
A primal, animalistic scream of pain and rage that echoed through the basement like a gunshot.
His body convulsed, muscles straining against the ropes binding him.
And then the ropes snapped.
I didn’t even see it happen. One second Nano was tied to the chair, and the next he was on his feet, the broken ropes dangling from his wrists. Blood poured from the wound in his thigh, soaking through his jeans, but he didn’t seem to notice as he ripped the gag from his mouth and lunged.
Not at Scythe. Not at Morpheus.
At me.
His hand closed around my throat before I could even think to move.
He hauled me up off the floor like I weighed nothing, slamming me back against the concrete wall so hard the impact knocked the air from my lungs.
“SPEAK, DAMN YOU!” he roared, his face inches from mine.
His eyes were wild, feral, burning with a fury I had never seen before. “SPEAK!”
I grabbed his wrist and tried to pry his fingers away, but his grip only tightened. My vision blurred at the edges, black spots dancing across my field of view as my lungs screamed for air.
“So help me God, Alexandra,” he snarled, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “If you don’t fucking speak, I will fucking walk away!”
His words slammed into me harder than any punch could have.
Walk away. He would leave me. Would turn his back and walk out of this basement and never look at me again. Would go back to being the man who fucked club whores and felt nothing. Would erase me from his life like I had never existed. And I would be alone.
Completely, utterly alone.
“Nano,” I choked out, my voice barely a whisper as his hand released me.
Just like that. No warning. No hesitation.
He let go, and I collapsed against the wall, gasping for air, my hands flying to my throat. I blinked through the tears, trying to focus, trying to understand what was happening.
And then I saw it.
Nano had turned away from me. His back was to me, his shoulders rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He took a step toward Morpheus.
And his eyes. Oh God. His eyes were empty. Completely, utterly void of everything. The fire was gone. The rage was gone. The obsession, the need, the desperate, twisted love—all of it was gone. He looked like a corpse. Like something that had died and was still walking.
He was walking away.
No! “Wait!” The word tore out of me, raw and desperate. I tried to crawl toward him, my hands slipping on the blood-slicked concrete. “Wait, please!”
But he didn’t turn around. Didn’t even pause.
He just kept walking, and something inside me shattered.
Not the defiance. Not the pride. Not the stubborn, desperate need to hold on to the one thing I had left.
It was something deeper. Something fundamental.
The part of me that had convinced myself I could survive this.
That I could endure anything as long as I didn’t give in.
But I couldn’t survive losing Nano. I couldn’t survive watching him walk away and knowing I would never see that fire in his eyes again. Never feel his hands on my skin. Never hear him call me his. I couldn’t survive being nothing to him.
“He has an apartment in Rapid City!” My words came out in a rush, desperate and broken. “Near downtown. On 4th Street. The big building on the corner. Apartment 3B. But I don’t know if he’s there anymore.”
Nano stopped, but he didn’t turn around. Didn’t look at me. But he stopped.
And that was enough. That was everything.
Wanderer and Vortex moved immediately, heading for the stairs without a word. I barely registered their departure. My entire focus was on Nano’s back, on the rigid set of his shoulders, on the way his hands were still clenched into fists.
“His name?” Morpheus asked, his voice calm and measured, like we were having a casual conversation.
I swallowed hard, tasting blood and bile. “I only knew him as Michael Campbell, but I found a book, a ledger with the name Arizona M. Stone on it.”
The second I said his name, Cerberus rushed up the stairs, his boots pounding against the concrete.
“The biker,” Morpheus said, stepping closer. “The one he paid.”
I shook my head, tears streaming down my face as I stared at Nano’s back. “I never saw him. I only heard his voice.”
Oscar stood from the chair where moments ago he had been tied and beaten. His face was a mess of blood and bruises, but his eyes were clear. Focused. “Tell me you took it, Alex. Tell me you have the ledger.”
I nodded, my gaze still locked on Nano. “It’s in my backpack.”
“Come on,” Carver said to Oscar, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Her room is upstairs.”
They left. And then the others followed. One by one, the brothers filed out of the basement, their boots echoing on the stairs, until only three of us remained.
Me. Nano. Morpheus.
The silence was suffocating.
Morpheus walked over and squatted down next to me, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, he just looked at me. Then he sighed, the sound almost..
. disappointed. “The Brotherhood doesn’t do second chances, Alexandra,” he said quietly.
“So you better be damn sure before you say something you can’t take back. ”
With that, he stood and walked away, his boots heavy against the concrete. The door at the top of the stairs opened, then closed, and the sound of the lock sliding into place echoed through the basement.
And then it was just us.
Me and Nano.
I crawled toward him, my hands slipping on the blood-slicked floor. My knees screamed in protest, the cold concrete biting into my skin, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything except getting to him. “Please, Nano,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Please look at me.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge that I had spoken.
I reached him, my hands trembling as I kneeled at his feet. “Please,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. “Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
But he still didn’t turn around, and I realized, with a sickening, hollowing clarity, that this was my punishment. Not the beating. Not the torture. Not the knife in his thigh or the blood on the floor.
This. His silence. His refusal to look at me. His complete and utter withdrawal.
I had given Morpheus everything. Had confessed Michael’s location, his name, and the ledger. Had surrendered the only leverage I had, but it didn’t matter.
Because Nano wouldn’t look at me. And without that, without his eyes on me, without his acknowledgment, without the twisted, desperate connection that had bound us together, I was nothing as I kneeled there on the cold concrete, staring at his back, and felt the last piece of myself crumble into dust.