Chapter 2 #3
A distraction. We needed something to pull their attention, and we didn’t have a bomb, but—“I have an idea,” I said.
I wasn’t wearing a balaclava like the rest. I didn’t want to.
It was…important to me to be seen after so long remaining suppressed.
I didn’t care. I was already facing life in prison.
“Give me ten minutes.” I tucked my gun into my waistband and adjusted my jacket, its cracked, familiar leather taking me back to my roots.
My eyes scanned the chaos and landed on one of the police vehicles.
It was parked and dark, its officer working the crowd at front on foot.
I stood as quiet whispers erupted between Ravens. I didn’t bother trying to make them out, tucking my curls under the collar of my jacket to keep them out of the way.
A firm grip wrapped around my wrist. “I thought we weren’t splitting up?” Kane asked, and my knees locked at the sound of his voice. It was so far removed from the Kane I once knew, deep and terrifyingly cold.
“I’ll be right behind you,” I swore, looking down and catching his gaze before I had to look away. I reached down and shoved his fingers from my wrist.
“Fuck that.” Kane stood and ripped off his balaclava. “Where you go, I go.”
We didn’t have time to argue so I hesitantly nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”
We moved fast, cutting back into the trees instead of toward the lights, boots sinking into damp earth as sirens braided together behind us.
The woods thinned into a service road half-swallowed by brush, and the patrol car sat crooked at the edge of it, the doors unlocked.
Idiot. I propped the door open and dropped to my knees beneath the steering column, plastic cracking under my fingers as I tore it open.
Wires spilled, and my hands started to shake, Thorne’s and Leah’s faces flashing in my head.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to breathe, sparks snapping against my knuckles as I tried to remember the order.
Kane hovered close, his presence a wall at my back, and then his hand came down on my shoulder, heavy and grounding.
“Hey.”
I flinched out of his touch, my heart a fucking mess as I sucked in a shallow breath and lifted my eyes to his.
His hand hovered for a second, his expression sad but understanding.
It’d been so long since I watched that footage, but time was nothing for that trauma.
I doubted the guys escaped watching it too.
Mickey had followed my command, leaking the videos everywhere.
It was sickening to think, but I didn’t know if I’d ever want to be touched by Kane again after seeing what I’d blocked out.
Or Rafe…I pressed my lips together, so shattered by the thought that I started shaking harder.
It wasn’t their fault. None of the abuse we endured was any of our faults.
It didn’t change it though. I was…scared.
I hated feeling fear near the people I loved most in this world, but it was there, and it was even stronger at the sight of Kane.
All that healing he did in the care of the Ravens was gone.
He was every bit the monster we were created to be—the same monster that had raped me.
It mattered that he sobbed and begged and tried to castrate himself not to.
Of course that mattered. But it still happened.
To both of us. There was only getting through it, and I wanted to.
I couldn't, wouldn't, let S.I.N. take Creed from me too.
“Ghosts can’t get you if you’re driving fast enough,” Kane murmured after a long silence and dropped his hand, his fingers curling into a tight fist at his side. Grief passed over his features before he nodded toward the wiring.
I managed a weak smile. “That sounds like something he would’ve said.” I couldn't say Thorne's name. I just…couldn't. Not without breaking down.
His eyes wavered. “Someone’s ought to keep him alive. Why not us?” Then he scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "You want me to take a look?"
"No," I pushed out when he moved a fraction closer.
Kane shifted back the second the word left my mouth, and I took in a trembling breath.
That word may not have meant anything to the people who harmed us, but it meant something to Creed.
My tightened muscles relaxed slightly seeing him take that step back without question, giving me the space I needed no matter if I recognized that version of Kane or not.
It was still him in there. Somewhere. Slowly, my fingers steadied.
I twisted the wires together, felt the shudder run through the frame, and the engine roared to life.
Kane jogged around and yanked open the passenger door, folding himself inside as I tugged behind the wheel and killed the lights.
“This might hurt,” I warned, knuckles white against the wheel.
Kane kept his focus ahead on the prison fence I was aiming for. “Good,” he said under his breath and braced himself against the dash.
I gunned it.
The engine screamed as I tore onto the service road, tires spitting mud and gravel as the fence rushed toward us.
I didn’t slow. I aimed for the weakest point and braced as the car hit hard, metal shrieking, the hood buckling as we punched through.
The fence tore open in a shower of sparks and wire, snapping back against the doors and windshield as we burst onto the access road beyond, surpassing the entire barricade of police.
Floodlights swung, beams cutting across us as patrol cars peeled off from the perimeter and surged our way, sirens rising.
I swerved, fishtailed, and corrected, my hands locked tight on the wheel as Kane swore under his breath and grabbed the door handle.
The car lurched forward again, straight toward the mass of people pressed behind barricades at the far end of the road.
A roar went up, voices colliding as people surged forward against the barriers. I caught flashes of signs and phones as we broke into the light.
“It’s them!” people screamed.
Police shouted orders that dissolved instantly, swallowed by noise as bodies pushed into the road, cameras raised, people climbing barricades and spilling over them.
The patrol cars following us slammed to a stop, boxed in by the sudden human wall, officers jumping out and yelling for people to clear the way.
But the mob pressed closer, a living obstacle no one could shoot their way through without turning everything into a massacre.
I threaded the car through the chaos, horn blaring, people scrambling back at the last second and hands slapping against the hood and doors.
They shouted Creed like a rallying cry instead of the curse it had become for us.
The whole thing felt unreal, like the world had cracked open just long enough to let us slip through.
They were…saving us. They really, truly were.
Those in that crowd might look back one day and wonder if being there and using their voice really meant anything, but it did.
It mattered on a fucking molecular level to be seen, to know that we were not alone, and to be given those few minutes we needed to make hope mean something again.
In the rear view, blue and red lights stuttered uselessly behind a wall of bodies. I laughed and floored it toward the front entrance of the prison.
Kane glanced at me then, the tiniest bit of the old Kane brightening behind his eyes. “Arden motherfucking Creed.”
“Shut up and get ready to jump out,” I shot back, smiling despite myself as I yanked the wheel hard and lined us up dead center with the front entrance.
Kane reached for the door handle at the same moment I counted under my breath, the engine screaming in protest as I floored it.
Three. Two. One. We threw the doors open and launched ourselves onto the pavement, gravel tearing into my leather jacket and black leggings.
My shoulder screamed but I barely felt it with the adrenaline rushing through me.
Kane landed a heartbeat later, and the car kept going without us, momentum unstoppable.
A concussive roar punched outward as it hit the front entrance and lit the night.
Fire bloomed outward, concrete cracking as a section of the wall gave way in a grinding, violent collapse.
I tugged my gun from my waistband and Kane flexed his hands before we charged inside.
Whether the Ravens followed or not, I don’t think either of us cared.
We were getting Rafe out, no matter the cost.
Gunfire met us the moment we no longer had civilians to protect us.
Muzzle flashes tore through smoke, sharp bursts strobing the ruined entryway as FBI units scrambled into formation, shouting commands.
I raised my gun and fired twice without breaking stride, aiming low.
Kevlar thudded as rounds struck center mass, bodies staggering backward, men crashing into one another as the line broke.
I didn’t wait to see who stayed down. I moved, pivoting, shooting again, each hit meant to disrupt, not execute, just enough force to clear a path.
I wasn’t going to take an innocent life, not unless I had to, and it seemed Kane held the same notion.
Besides, we both knew that true humiliation was not in bleeding out; it was in bleeding in front of the entire world and remaining unseen and alive against all odds. Halden taught us that.
The next agent never finished lifting his rifle before Kane was on him, a blur of muscle and motion, one hand slamming the barrel skyward while the other crushed the man’s throat hard enough to drop him boneless to the floor.
Kane ripped the rifle free and used it immediately, swinging the stock into another agent’s face with a sickening crack, then driving his knee into a third man’s chest.
They tried to adjust, but the truth is they never stood a chance because they never understood who Creed was…is.