38. Ellis
THIRTY-EIGHT
ELLIS
My phone rings with an incoming call from Silas as I turn onto the narrow, unmarked switchback road that leads me up the mountain to my girl. “I’m fifteen minutes out.”
“I got in touch with a friend in the area. It’s an abandoned storage unit.”
“Fucking hell, man.” I’m tempted to punch the gas, but speed would be detrimental on this treacherous road.
“I can see your tail lights. Keep it steady, Wilder. We’re nearly there.”
“Ten-four,” I say, coughing to hide the tremor in my voice as I end the call.
The climb up the mountain is slow—painfully slow—but I do as Silas said and keep it steady. My eye on the prize, so to speak.
Finally, after what feels like a goddamn eternity, the ground levels out, and the road widens. The area seems abandoned. Nothing for miles in either direction, but I keep going, following the little flashing dot on my screen.
I breathe a sigh of relief when a few miles later, a chain-link fence wrapped in barbed wire comes into view. I squint to make out the faded letters on the sign—Downey we’re practically on top of her now. “Positive.”
“How you want to play this?”
“Get my girl by any means necessary.”
Silas nods thoughtfully. “We going in guns blazing and hoping for the best or what?”
“Nah. We go in quiet.” My police training kicks in. “The last thing we want is for him to know we’re coming.”
Another nod. “First thing’s first—this lock.” He points to the chain wrapped around the gate, secured with a padlock. Silver, you’re up.”
Silver drops his kickstand and springs into action, approaching the gate with a compact manual cutter. He forgoes the lock and instead cuts through the chain, allowing him to unravel it and open the gates.
Job done, he nods and waits for further instruction.
“We move in by foot,” I begin laying out my plan. “I’m tip of the spear so I’m the first face Scarlet sees, but...”
“No buts,” Silas says. “We’ve got your six.”
I nod as I turn off my truck and hop down, slipping through the gate. It’s a little awe-inspiring as Silas and his men—men whose names I still don’t know—wordlessly fall into step behind me, ready and willing to face down whatever waits for us inside these gates.
We make our way in on silent feet, winding through row after row of borderline decrepit storage units.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Smoke murmurs as we turn down the last row, stopping in front of the roll-down door of unit fifty-seven.
I nod in agreement.
“This it?” Silas asks.
“This is it.” The sound of Scarlet’s muffled screams filter through the door, sending dual waves of hope and despair crashing through me. Hope, because she’s alive, but despair, because in what state?
“Silver.”
He steps forward, inspecting the door, before bursting into silent laughter.
I signal for us to fall back. “What?” I growl, seething at the thought of him laughing as she suffers.
“This guy’s a fucking idiot.” He points to the lock. “The door’s not even secured.”
Suddenly, his outburst makes more sense.
“His dumbassery is our gain,” Silas says, rubbing his hands together. “We’ll get the door leaving you free to make entry.”
“Ten-four.” I slide my gun from my holster in a fluid motion thanks to years of practice, flicking off the safety before signaling for Smoke and Silver to man either side of the door while Silas covers me.
“On three,” I tell them. “One… two… three.”
We spring into action, moving like a well-oiled machine as we breach and make entry.
The gruesome scene in front of me will haunt my nightmares for as long as I live, but I don’t have time to truly take anything in because Clint springs up from atop of Scarlet’s prone body and charges me like a rabid animal, practically frothing at the mouth.
My training takes a backseat as pure instinct takes over. I don't think, I just act, firing a single shot hitting him right between his eyes—no second thoughts, no regrets.
My ears ring in the sudden silence, the smell of gun powder coupled with the stench of mildew and the coppery tang of blood hang heavy in the air. But I only have eyes for my girl.
“Make sure he’s down,” I command, rushing to her side. “I’m here, Princess. I’m here.” My voice cracks as I take her in—bloodied, broken, and bruised with her hands tied behind her back. “You’re safe now,” I vow, ripping my shirt over my head and laying it over her to give her a shred of dignity.
I press my fingers to her neck in search of a pulse, praying to any and every higher power I can think of that I’m not too late. “Got it,” I shout, and Silas signals to a guy I’ve never met before. “She’s alive.”
Oh my god. She’s alive. I press a hand to my chest, glancing up at the ceiling, before focusing all of my attention on her. I might not ever let her out of my sight again.
Silas calls my name, but I don’t look away from her. Not even for a second.
“Yeah?” I ask, tears burning the backs of my eyes.
“This is Patch,” he says nodding to one of the unfamiliar men. “He’s our medic. Why don’t you let him look her over so y’all can get on the road?”
I stick out my hand for him to shake. “Heard a lot about you,” he says, his deep voice a perfect match for his gruff exterior, shaking my hand with a firm grip.
“I look forward to getting to know all y’all better,” I barely choke out the words as I let my hand fall back to my lap. “But right now, I really want to get her home.”
“Loud and clear, man.” He kneels down on the other side of her. “Give me a minute to check her over and we’ll get you out of here.”
I’m transfixed, watching Patch’s every movement as he checks her over. He’s far gentler than I expect from a man his size as he runs his hands along her neck, checking for obvious breaks.
He grabs a small flashlight from his pocket, peeling her lids back one by one and shining the light into her eyes. “Pupil reactivity’s good. Won’t know more until she’s conscious.”
“Gonna move your shirt and check her chest,” Patch says.
I grit my teeth and give him the green light.
He moves my shirt with great care, making quick work of inspecting the cut between her breasts. “A lot of blood, but it’s not too deep. Shouldn’t need stitches.”
“You think we’re safe to unbind her arms?” I flick my eyes down to the small puddle of blood seeping out from beneath her.
“Put one hand here.” He shows me exactly where he wants my hand on her upper arm, triple checking my placement before having me carefully roll her forward. “Glue,” he hollers. Silver grabs a bottle from the bag at his side, passing it over in a matter of seconds.
“She’s got a nasty cut on her arm,” he warns me, guiding her back to a supine position after unbinding her arms. “Gonna clean it and glue it. We can assess for stitches once were out of here.”
“Got it.” I try to brace myself for it, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the gnarly cut spanning the length of her forearm. The fucking psycho basically filleted her. “Mother fucker. I’d kill him again if he wasn’t already dead.”
“I’d get in line behind you,” comes Silas’s growled reply.
Scarlet stirs as Patch cleans the gash on her arm, whimpering as she tries to curl in on herself.
“Steady, Princess,” I murmur, softly stroking my fingers along her jaw.
“El-Ellis.” Her voice is nothing more than a rasp, scratchy and barely audible, but, goddamn, if it isn’t the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. “You’re h-here?”
“I’m here. You’re safe.” I say those four words over and over again while Patch finishes getting her ready for transport.
I expected her to be shaking, sniffling, and sobbing, but she’s almost... detached
“Shock,” Patch says, telling me I must’ve spoken my concerns out loud.
“Is he dead?” Scarlet asks. Somehow, her hoarse voice is both the most heartbreaking and beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
“He can never hurt you again,” I assure her, wishing like hell I could hold her in my arms.
“Do you promise?” She tries to keep her voice neutral, but I can hear the thread of fear interwoven into her words.
“I swear it to you, Princess.”
“Okay, good.” She nods once before her face crumples. “I just want...”
“What, Scarlet? Tell me and I’ll make it happen.”
“I want to go home.” Tears fill her eyes, blazing twin paths down her swollen, blood-smeared cheeks. “I want my mom.”
Oh shit. Her mom. “Don’t worry, I’ll get everything sorted. Promise.” I don’t know how just yet, but I will—one way or another. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”
She narrows her eyes and winces, the motion splitting the cut near her eye.
I hold my hands up and amend my previous statement. “Everything's going to be okay. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but you’re strong as hell, and I know you’ll overcome this. And I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way.”
“Should be good to go,” Patch says. “If it's okay with you, I'd like to follow you back in case she takes a turn. Once we get to your place, I can get an IV in her and do a more thorough exam.”
I glance toward Scarlet, whose eyelids are already drooping under the weight of her exhaustion. “Are you sure?” I ask.
“Wouldn’t have offered if he wasn’t,” Silas says.
“Too right.” I fish my keys from my pocket and toss them to Patch. “Bring my truck back here so we can load her up?”
He pockets them and stalks out of the dilapidated storage unit, a man on a mission.
“What about—” I tip my head toward Clint’s body. The fucker died with a smirk on his face, like he truly thought he was going to best me. The sight of it sends a fresh surge of anger through me, making me want to kill his sorry ass all over again.
“We’ve got it handled. You worry about your girl—” He waits for me to argue, but we both know he’s right. Scarlet’s mine, and she always will be. “We’ll handle everything else.”
“I-I’m not...” I trip over my tongue, trying to find the right words. “I’m not patched in, or even a prospect. Are you... are you sure?”
“Goddamn positive.” His reply is swift and leaves no room for argument. “You may not wear our patch, but the same sense of loyalty and integrity we require of all our brothers runs through your veins. You’re one of us in spirit, and we protect our own.”
“Fuck, man.” A sense of brotherhood, belonging, and gratitude like I’ve never felt before wraps itself around me. “Thank you. I-I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“No repayment necessary, Wilder.” He thumps his chest. “Like I said, we protect our own.”
There’s nothing I can say to adequately express my thanks, so I settle for a nod before giving my focus back to Scarlet, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest like a hawk.
Today was fucking hard. But I’m not na?ve enough to think the days that come won’t be harder. Her physical injuries may not be severe, but the emotional ones—they’re going to take some time.