Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Booker
Serpent keeps the cargo door propped open as we scramble toward the extraction point.
We hustle the family inside, their faces pale and drawn.
Splicer’s already there, his movements precise as he assesses their condition.
He works with a quiet focus that drains the terror from their tense bodies.
He wraps a heavy blanket around Kolter’s shoulders and whispers something meant only for the boy.
Kolter looks just like Kendall. It’s strange seeing her features on him, he’s definitely her mini-me, she couldn’t deny him as being hers even if she wanted to.
Which she wouldn’t, she’s fought tooth and nail to keep him safe.
He’s got the same stubborn glint in his gaze despite the bruises from his time as a captive.
I had him ride shotgun with me on the way here, I wasn’t about to hand that responsibility off to anyone else.
In my mind, he’s mine to look after now.
After all, his mother owns my heart, she just doesn’t know it yet.
I keep close to him while Splicer conducts his examination. But the moment I attempt to move toward the huddle where Slayer, Shade, and Ozzie are waiting for me, he panics. “Don't leave me,” he pleads, shooting out a hand to seize my wrist, halting my departure.
“I’m not leaving, Kolter,” I say, keeping my voice low and steady.
I crouch down so we are eye level, wanting him to understand I’ve got his back.
I gesture toward the group standing near the open door.
“See them? That’s Slayer, Shade, and Ozzie.
I just need to touch base with my brothers for a second.
You keep your eyes locked on me, okay? I’m not going anywhere, and you can watch me the entire time. ”
“You really won’t leave?” he asks, his lips trembling slightly.
“Only when it becomes absolutely necessary,” I respond, refusing to lie to him.
I want to build our relationship on the right foot, one chock full of honesty.
Even kids don’t like to be bullshitted, something I’ve learned from spending time with Elodie when Icer lets her out of his sights.
“Eventually, Kolter, I will have to go and rescue your mom.”
He tilts his head in confusion. “My mom? I don’t have one. Dad told me she didn’t want me and dropped me off when I was just a baby. He said he was hardening me up so I wouldn’t grow up to be a pussy. That’s why he hit me and let the others teach me how to be a man.”
I reel back, stunned by his words. While I was well aware of Jerome's monstrous nature, the magnitude of the deception he employed to disconnect him from the truth leaves me speechless.
Forcing myself to take a few deep, stabilizing breaths, I fight down the urge to launch into a furious, curse-laden tirade, desperate to avoid causing the boy any further trauma.
“Kolter, you need to listen to me very carefully. Your mother never walked away from you, you were stolen away from her. She wanted you then, and she still wants you now. The truth is, your father has committed terrible acts against many innocent people, including your own mother.”
“Then why didn’t she ever see me if she wanted me?” he asks, and I struggle to find a way to explain the situation so that his five-year-old mind can process and understand it.
“Because she wasn’t allowed to,” I say, keeping my words simple.
Kolter stares at his naked feet. They are caked in dirt just like the rest of him is. “Did she try?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.
I lean down closer to him. “She fought for you every day. Your father, Jerome, kept her trapped in a locked room. He didn’t just separate the two of you, he completely stripped away her freedom. He fed her lies that you were doing fine, using it as just another tactic to maintain control over her.”
Kolter shrinks into the blanket, his face now barely visible. “Is she still there?”
“Not for long,” I promise. “We’re going to get her out. She’s waiting for us, and she hasn’t given up on you… not for one second. She’s the strongest person I know.”
“Does she still want me?” I gnaw at my bottom lip. Even though I’ve already reassured him that she does, the message doesn’t seem to be getting through his traumatized mind. The boy remains trapped in a vicious cycle of his own trauma, unable to break free from its suffocating hold.
Reiterating, I tell him, “She does. She’s the one who sent us to get you.”
“When are you going to go get her?” he questions.
“Just as soon as I know you’re going to be okay and I talk to my brothers,” I inform him.
His wide, hopeful eyes look up, holding my gaze for what feels like an eternity.
Then, a hand sneaks out from beneath the blanket, waving me off in an unmistakable gesture of, what are you waiting for?
With a smirk, I give his shoulder a reassuring pat before turning away to meet up with my brothers.
As I join the huddle, Slayer asks, “He alright?”
Answering, I tell him, “He’s as good as he can be given the circumstances. That fucker told him that his mother didn’t want him and he and his men were teaching him how to not be a pussy so he could grow up to be a real man.”
“Jesus fuck,” Shade hisses, dragging his hand down his face. “I can’t wait for Rip to get back into town so we can nix his ass for good.”
“After we get ourselves a little payback for everything that motherfucker’s put our club through,” Ozzie says.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t be opposed to him eating his teeth for all of the lies he’s told,” I tack on.
“I can make him swallow his tongue,” Shade offers.
Slayer cuts in, shutting down the escalations of what we want to do to Jerome from intensifying and growing more grotesque.
“We can plan our revenge later. Right now, our only objective is securing Kendall and Branson since the others are safe and in our custody.” That has all of us snapping to attention and going silent.
“Booker, what do you know about the layout and guard schedule at their whereabouts?”
“It’s virtually identical to the farmhouse setup,” I reply. “They’re running the same routine, but this spot has enhanced security defenses in terms of wards.”
“Are Kendall and Branson going to assist with our entry to shave off some time?” Slayer asks.
“The system has already been destabilized by them,” I let him know.
“So everything should go smooth then?” Slayer asks, his gaze narrowing.
I nod, catching the grim satisfaction in his expression. “Should. Assuming their security doesn’t have any last-minute surprises. We need to be fast and hit hard. No room for hesitation once we breach the perimeter.”
Shade cracks his knuckles, the sound piercing the quiet space. “Good. I’m ready to stop talking and start moving.”
“We move out in five,” Slayer confirms, turning his focus to the rest of the crew. “Gear up. We go for Kendall and Branson, then we get out. Don’t get distracted by anything else.”
“Are we taking prisoners?” Ozzie asks.
“No, we are wiping out the garbage employed by Jerome,” Slayer asserts.
“But what if there are innocent individuals among them, just like Branson and Kendall?” I challenge. “We shouldn’t just slaughter blameless people without cause.”
Shade scoffs, shifting his weight while crossing his arms over his chest. “It isn't like we paused to ask for resumes when we cleared that farmhouse. Those guards know who they work for and what they're guarding. They’re part of the problem.”
I know that, but it doesn’t make me feel any less guilty. For all we know, they’re in the exact same situation as Kendall is. I hold my ground, even as the tension in the room thickens. “Maybe, but we aren’t butchers. I just want to be sure we’re hitting targets, not just anyone in a uniform.”
“We don't have the luxury of being picky about who we take out,” Slayer interrupts, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He steps closer, his eyes scanning each of us. “Jerome doesn’t hire innocent people to watch his back. Anyone standing between us and those two is an enemy combatant. Act accordingly.”
I tighten my jaw, forcing myself to accept the reality of the situation. It’s a bitter pill, but arguing further wastes time we don't have. “Understood,” I mutter, turning back toward the supplies.
Ozzie nudges my shoulder, his expression hardening. “Look, we get in, we do the job, and we get out. Focus on that. We'll handle the rest when we have your woman secure.”
I nod, grabbing my gear and checking the chamber on my sidearm.
The weight of the metal feels grounding in my palm.
I glance back toward where Kolter sits, watching us with those wide, haunting eyes.
I owe it to him to get his mother back, no matter who I have to go through to make that happen.
“Let's move,” I say, stepping into the night.
Hurrying back to Kolter, I inform him that we are preparing to leave so he can finally see his mom again.
Seeing the sheer excitement light up his eyes gives me the focus I need.
I’m determined not to fail either of them—before the night is through, they will be together just as they ought to have been all these years.
As we ride, a wave of shame washes over me.
I understand what Slayer was trying to say, and I have to admit he has a point.
Jerome isn’t the type to just let anyone guard him unless they have earned his absolute trust. Reflecting on it further, I become certain that these guards are simply at the bottom of the hierarchy within his crew.
They are merely doing their time to work their way up the ranks of the Dragons.
The vibration of the bike travels through my boots and up my spine. It’s a steady, jarring rhythm that matches the frantic thumping of my heart. I keep my eyes fixed on the taillights ahead. Slayer leads, and he doesn’t waver.
Ozzie slows his machine to match my pace. He leans over and glances at me through his visor, speaking to me through our coms. “You’re quiet back there. Still thinking about what Slayer said?”
I shift my grip on the handlebars and nod. “Yeah, what he said, it’s settling in.”
“Good,” Ozzie replies, his voice barely audible over the wind. “We don't have room for doubt tonight.”
He twists his throttle and surges forward.
I watch him go and realize he’s right. My hesitation serves no one.
If I’m going to get this job done, I need to leave my conscience at the door.
I let the realization wash over me. These men we’re heading toward are deep in the mix.
They aren’t innocent bystanders in a ring of fire.
They’ve made their choices, and now, they’ll have to live with the consequences of standing on the wrong side of this fight.
That thought finally quiets the churning in my gut.
My focus sharpens, centering completely on Kendall as the reality of our first actual meeting draws near.
If I were the kind of person who gets butterflies in their stomach, an entire monarchy kingdom of them would be swirling inside me right now.
Nerves aren’t usually something I deal with, but the anticipation of finally looking into her eyes and reaching out to touch her has me feeling an unfamiliar flutter dangerously close to anxiety.