Chapter 21 #2
Inside, it’s exactly like all the other Reaper parties I’ve snuck into over the past handful of years.
Loud, crowded, hazy with smoke, and thick with the stench of booze and drugs and sex.
I quickly pop a butterscotch into my mouth and try not to breathe through my nose.
I was right, it’s absolutely packed in here.
I’ve never been bold enough to come to one of their “new shipment” parties, but considering how sloppy everyone seems to be, I think the Morettis could have actually walked right in unnoticed.
There isn’t a second to spare, so all five of us get right to work, splitting up and heading in different directions, scouring the overcrowded room for the Pass Arounds.
The first one I spot is the same damn kid I gave that drug counseling card to weeks ago.
I grind my teeth in frustration and consider leaving him.
If he doesn’t want to be helped, why should I waste the precious few minutes I have?
He wobbles on his feet and as he catches himself, he meets my eyes.
Through the glassy, stoned look in them, I see a brief flash of recognition and then a few seconds of heavy regret.
A second chance might not be enough for some people, but maybe the third chance or the fourth or even the fifth is the one that will make the difference.
If you throw someone a life preserver and they don’t grab it, do you let them drown or do you throw it again?
Maybe I’ll pull him out of here tonight and he’ll be shooting up in an alley somewhere next week…
but maybe he won’t. Maybe this time he’ll get sober, find something to live for that isn’t his next taste, his next high, his next tumble into oblivion.
I paste a sultry smile on my lips and slink closer, putting a little wobble in my steps, that way if any Reapers do notice me, they’ll assume I’m just another Pass Around enjoying the festivities.
When I’m within touching distance, I thread my fingers into his hair like I’m going to kiss him and pull him slowly deeper into the crowd with me.
“Do I know you?” he murmurs, blinking at me again with that fleeting awareness that he can’t seem to quite grab onto before it slips away again.
“I’m your guardian angel, kid. And you need to get the hell out of here,” I whisper.
We reach the door and he stares at me in confusion.
I nudge it open and grab the front of his shirt to push him through it, out into the night where I’m hoping one of the guys has been assigned to usher them over to Luca.
“Go,” I insist, then I pull the door closed again and go back to work.
It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed, but I can feel every second ticking away.
I’ve managed to pull out ten Pass Arounds, and as I sweep my eyes around the sea of unwashed bodies, I have to assume the others are doing just as well, because I can’t spot anyone else without a Sleepless Reaper patch at a glance.
It feels impossible that we’ve pulled this off without any of them noticing, and for a minute I almost feel like I could be convinced that maybe there is some kind of higher power out there in the universe that cares just a tiny bit about the balance of suffering on this tiny, blue rock.
A prickle on the back of my neck tells me someone’s watching me.
It would be a special kind of irony if while I’m contemplating the possibility of divine intervention, one of the Reapers finally catches on that we’ve quickly and quietly cleared out all their fuck toys.
I glance over my shoulder and lock eyes with the same Reaper I could have sworn was looking at me the last time I snuck into their clubhouse.
The not-so-unattractive one with a clear, sober stare.
My phone vibrates against my thigh, and I can only assume it’s Alessio warning me that my time is just about up.
No point worrying about the eagle-eyed Reaper when he only has a few minutes left before he’s nothing but burned flesh and charred bones.
I break the stare and duck into the mass of bodies again, weaving between them, careful not to brush against anyone.
There wouldn’t be enough hot water in the world for me to feel clean again if another Reaper ever touches me.
I reach the door and step back out into the night, dragging in a deep breath to fill my lungs with fresh, untainted air.
I squint into the darkness and count out each silhouette I see to make sure we’re all out safely.
It looks like everyone is accounted for, but I want to be one hundred percent sure before I chain up the door.
I don’t even make it five steps before I hear the creak of the door and a quick blast of noise from inside that cuts off just as fast. The heavy sound of boots on gravel raises my hackles.
I reach for my pistol and spin around in a single motion, pressing it to Eagle Eye’s forehead before he has the chance to blink.
“On your knees,” I growl.
He puts his hands up and sinks to his knees. More footsteps sound in the darkness, but these ones ease my tension rather than spiking it. In a matter of seconds, Alessio and Sparrow are standing on either side of me.
“Are we good to go?” I ask them, not taking my eyes off of the Reaper kneeling in front of me, my hands steady as I hold the barrel of my silencer against his forehead.
“Two minutes until blast off,” Alessio answers.
“And we’re all out,” Sparrow confirms.
I nod and cock my gun. “Your choice, go back inside and die with your friends or I’m happy to shoot you right now. Only five seconds to decide though. Five, four, three…”
“Fuck them, let them die,” he growls. His answer surprises me enough that I don’t pull the trigger immediately like I planned.
“No honor among bikers?” I deadpan.
“My brother is the president of the club, our dad founded it. And I’ve spent the last decade trying to oust him and turn shit around.
” He lets out a harsh laugh, and there’s something about the look in his eyes that actually makes me feel something other than hatred for him for a fraction of a second.
“Why do you think I never stopped you when I saw you lurking at our parties? Or told anyone who The Ghost really was?”
I narrow my eyes and press the gun harder against his head. “You didn’t save me either. You didn’t save any of them.” I jerk my head towards the building where the Pass Arounds are being kept until it’s safe to turn them loose.
“I’m the one who called the ambulance when they tossed you in that ditch and left you to die, and you’re not the only one.
I’ve snuck Pass Arounds out during the night and dropped them off at rehab or the hospital.
I fucking cut my brother’s brake line last year hoping that would do the trick.
He’s like a fucking cockroach though. He just won’t fucking die. ”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. What am I supposed to do here?
My hand trembles just a little and Alessio and Sparrow both move closer to me.
“What’s your name?” Alessio asks.
“Hawk,” he says quickly, like compliance might be the thing that saves his life. Maybe it will. “I’m serious, kill them all, I’m one hundred percent behind you. I tried to redeem them, and it can’t be done.”
“But you want us to believe you’re redeemable?” Sparrow asks the question that’s on the tip of my tongue.
I’m expecting another quick answer; empty-sounding promises that he’s not like them, that he’s good and pure and deserves to live. My finger twitches on the trigger.
“I don’t know,” he croaks. “I’ve done some horrible shit, but I swore to myself years ago when I got sober that I would make up for all of it. That for everyone I hurt, I’d save someone else to balance it all out, and I haven’t finished yet.”
“If we let him go, the Reapers won’t truly be gone, will they?” I murmur, more to myself than to anyone else.
Hawk answers anyway. “The Sleepless Reapers die with my brother, I can promise you that.”
“One minute, Spettro. Make a decision so we can bar the door and get our asses clear of the blast zone,” Alessio says.
I lower my gun.
“Don’t make me regret this,” I growl at Hawk. “We’re even now. You saved my life and I saved yours. I’m going to save a bullet and put your name on it. If I find out you’ve stepped one goddamn toe out of line, I will fucking find you.”
He nods and lowers his hands.
“Fucking go, man,” Sparrow barks.
Hawk jumps to his feet and tears off into the darkness.
“Alright, let’s get this done.” I tuck my pistol away and we hurry to chain the doors, then make a run for it. We’re halfway across the parking lot when the thunderous sound of the explosions rattles our eardrums and the sudden eruption of fire lights up the night.
I reach for Alessio’s hand, threading my fingers between his, and we rush through the door of the empty building where everyone is waiting for us. I stop right inside the door and turn to look out, watching in awe as the clubhouse is engulfed in flames that turn the sky orange.
It’s over. It’s really over. By the time it’s deemed safe enough for the fire trucks to get through the barriers, there won’t be any survivors, and the clubhouse will be nothing but cinders. The Sleepless Reapers are really and truly dead.
“We should celebrate,” Sparrow says.
I let out a breathless laugh, and I realize I can truly feel my heart beating without needing to put my hand on my chest for the first time since I woke up in the hospital. Alessio was right—there’s a whole future ahead of us now and I can be anyone I want to be.
“We should definitely celebrate,” I agree out loud, smiling at my brother and squeezing Alessio’s hand again as we all watch my nightmares burn.