Chapter 35
Indigo
Sheila, my trusty steed and very best bitch hurtled down the highway, “Bad Habit” by The Offspring raging through the speakers, helping us dig into the deep well of rage inside us both.
Sheila’s engine hummed, and I petted her steering wheel.
A monster had our growly, grumpy Priest, and we were going to ride to his motherfucking rescue.
We were bad bitches on a mission. Tally-fuckin’-ho.
“Thank you for always being such a great listener,” I said to Sheila as I steered her to an alleyway a few blocks from Savage Delights.
As we drove, I went over the plan Duke, Mikhail, and I had thrown together so Sheila would be in the loop.
As long as everyone stuck to the plan, we had a relatively decent chance at neutralizing Roark.
Hopefully, Bear and Priest were still alive.
Otherwise, tonight’s victory would ring hollow.
“From the moment you came into my life, you’ve been there for me,” I said to my ride-or-die as I switched off her ignition.
“I’m gonna do my best tonight, but…” I pat her dashboard comfortingly once more and muster up the courage to get this off my chest. “If I don’t make it, the Crows will take care of you.
Give 'em hell for me, and remember that you are a sassy, thick, beautiful goddess among vehicles. I love you.” Leaving the comforting embrace of Sheila’s driver’s seat was hard, but I had a man to save and a demon to slay.
In order for Operation: Avunculicide to be a success, I had to play my part, so I locked Sheila up tight and jogged as sneakily as my boots would allow, tapping into the headspace I’d used to survive The Consortium and their arena.
According to Ivan’s intelligence, Roark had six men guarding the perimeter of Savage Delights.
His drone not only had night vision but it could also do thermal scans, which was super cool.
Ivan reported that there were only two heat signatures inside the club.
The rest of Roark’s men guarded the entrance points.
I only needed to worry about the goon stationed near the back door, so I could climb the hidden staircase to the upper level of Savvie D’s, where Bear’s office was located.
I’d let the Crows and the bratva have fun with the other goons in the meantime.
Like a leopard (one of nature’s stealthiest furballs, thank you, Animal Planet) I stalked my prey who just so happened to be taking a piss against Savage Delight’s wall.
And didn’t that just grind my gears? This twatwaffle hit Bear with an SUV, and now he was peeing on his life’s work?
I think the fuck not. Standing up from my sneaky crouch in the shadows of the neighboring abandoned building, I shot like an arrow toward the goon and smashed his face into the wall.
He turned, shriveled dick in hand, just to get a judy chop straight to the Adam’s apple.
I couldn’t have him make any noise and let Roark know I was here early.
His coughs were cut off abruptly as I broke his neck, allowing his body to fall to the ground.
If I were dealing with anything slightly less horrifying than the Beast of Boston, I’d giggle at the thought that the dead goon still had his shriveled dick gripped in his fist. As it was, I barely cracked a smile as I took the pointer finger of his free hand and jammed it up a nostril.
It was hard out here for a girl, but I’d be damned if I let anything or anyone quash my joie de vivre, even if I wasn’t feeling particularly joie-y at the moment.
I’d always have the memories to look back on, after all.
Heeding Bone’s directions, I crept up a metal staircase that led to a catwalk along the perimeter of the building.
Instead of turning left, toward Bear’s office, I went right.
Roark’s voice carried through the building, echoing off the walls in discordant waves.
Suppressing a shudder, I located the window Bones described to me and went to work.
As silent as the grave, I scrubbed furiously, working to clear the pane of the black paint that coated it.
I only had a few minutes to get into place.
Nothing about our plan could go wrong, or Roark would gut the man I loved, and I’d be powerless to stop it.
A shiver overtook me as I knelt at Roark’s feet.
Priest’s blood was spattered on his shoes, and I prayed to Bob that his wounds weren’t life-threatening.
I didn’t think Roark would let Priest die so quickly.
In fact, I depended on him wanting to torture Priest for as long as his sadistic, black heart desired so we could have enough time to rescue him.
The only other alternative was that Roark would kill Priest immediately, and my poor, fractured soul couldn’t handle that thought.
Allowing my body to experience and process being in the physical presence of my own personal devil, allowing the fear and pain to flow through me unrestricted, oddly helped me in a way.
I wasn’t fighting my fear of my tormentor, and I wasn’t struggling to hide my reactions from Roark.
That took an enormous amount of energy, and it never really did me any good.
He always saw it all, anyway. By allowing myself the outlet for my adrenaline, I found a place of deep, inner focus.
A crystalline edge, sharp and honest, honed my vision, and instead of being paralyzed by my past, I was fueled by it.
My ghosts, my cannibalistic phantoms, my inner demons…
they calmed the moment I saw Priest tied to that chair.
Fear of the man who’d formed us—me and all my trauma goblins—melted away, and in its place a fierce and overwhelming tide of protectiveness surged within me.
Not just for Priest but also for me. The me I was now, Indigo Evans, who’d clawed out a life for herself and patched together a family.
She deserved to be protected, too. I would never let Roark Callahan make me forget who I was, ever again.
He didn’t have that kind of power over me anymore. I get to keep me.
It killed me to hear the desperation and agony in Priest’s voice as he pleaded with me to run.
Every inch I had crawled to Roark had been painful, knowing that it hurt Priest to witness it.
But for once, despite the fact that the doors to the crawlspace in my mind were flung wide open and all the darkness locked within was running rampant and free, I didn’t feel overwhelmed by it all.
I actually felt…like they were helping me.
It was like they could make me miserable, but if anyone else tried, they’d fuck them up.
A toxic, abusive relationship, to be sure.
But I’d use it if it meant Priest and I walked out of Savage Delights alive.
My demons and I could always do couples therapy later, if we survived.
I knelt at Roark’s feet and watched as a small droplet of Priest’s blood plopped onto his shoe, the leather already heavily speckled.
Blunt fingers plunged into my hair, winding into a fist and yanking my head back at a harsh angle.
My chin was pointed in Priest’s direction, and I could see that while he’d gone silent, he never once stopped struggling against the ropes that bound him to a chair.
Roark’s hand, blade clenched in his fist, filled my vision as he brought it to my face.
Unmoving in his harsh grasp, I focused on the wall behind Priest to avoid going cross-eyed as Roark brought the flat of the blade in close to my eyes.
“Look,” he demanded, giving my head a little shake.
“This is what happens when you forget who you belong to. This is all your fault, and you are going to clean up the mess you made.” I made no move to escape Roark’s hold, no sign of resistance or hope.
Dead eyes stared straight ahead, like Indigo wasn’t home anymore.
Roark brought the flat of his blade down a few inches until it was pressed against my lips. “Clean it.”
Priest spat curses at Roark as he struggled to come to me, giving Roark the exact display of misery he craved.
I regretted that I couldn’t reassure him, but in order to adequately distract Roark, I needed Priest to react honestly.
I just hoped my Growly Gus could forgive me if we made it out of this alive.
Without hesitation, I obeyed Roark’s command, giving his blade a long swipe with my tongue.
Roark shuddered in satisfaction at my obedience and the pained sound that escaped Priest at the sight.
Roark shoved me down and away from him, sneering in disgust and sadistic satisfaction.
“See, Priest, no matter what fantasy you propped up against this stupid slut, she will never be anything other than my bitch. It’s been bred into her. It’s who she is.”
I cowered on the mat, curling in on myself, my knees tucked up to my chin.
I wrapped my hands around the ankle of my boots and shuddered, eyes shut tight against the bloody and macabre scene before me.
Priest, bound and hurt by the man I drew here.
Roark walked over to Priest, coming up behind him and leaning over his shoulder until their faces were parallel.
Two sets of eyes, one blue and frantic, the other hazel and mad, locked onto the blankest stare I could manage.