Chapter thirty-five #2
“How do we know he’s in there?” she asks me, and I shrug.
“We don’t. We have to hope that the location tag was to help us find him. If not, and we’re jumping to the wrong conclusions, it could all be for nothing.”
I lift a hand and wipe my brow. I’ve never been more terrified than I am now.
My brother’s life depends on me, on us, on our friends, and we have no idea who the actual enemy is or what his disappearance is really connected to.
“I love you,” she whispers, and I turn to face her. “Come back for me, and bring your brother too. We all need each other.”
I lean forward, my forehead pressing against hers.
Closing my eyes, I allow a tear to roll down my cheek.
I’ve never felt more vulnerable than I do now in all aspects of my life.
My heart, head, and future could be blown to pieces depending on how this plays out.
“I love you too, Trouble. I’ll bring him back for you. Remember, if you see anything, sound the horn and I’ll come for you.”
Without waiting for her response, I push open the door and step out into the street. My friends appear from their respective seats.
The old hospital is located in a poor area of the city surrounded by rundown apartment blocks. No one is on the streets. Cars are scattered around, a lot with tires too flat to drive. Every other property seems to have an old sofa in the garden as trash cans decorate the flowerbeds.
“This place is as terrifying as it ever was. The screams, fuck—I swear I can still hear them.” Harrison shudders, his focus fixed on our target. “Do you think they’ll be waiting for us?” he asks as we cross the road and reach the huge black iron gates marking the entrance.
“If they’re here, whoever they are, I have no doubt they will be,” Damon says. He stops as we step through the gates, touching the heavy chain clearly cut with bolt cutters.
We all pause beside him, looking up at the huge sandstone building.
The old blue signs directing patients to various parts of the building still hang on the damp walls.
Every window appears to be boarded up. Broken glass lies across the entrance.
We pull our guns from our belts and make our way across the carnage to the front door.
“Clear,” Hunter advises as we move inside the building. The wooden boards ripped from the front doors are lying discarded on the floor.
“What are we looking for?” Harrison muses as all our eyes scan the space.
“Any sign of life,” I say as a car horn blasts in the distance. I spin to face it just in time to see a brute lifting his weapon in my direction. A second man appears beside him; then I feel eyes on my back.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” the first man says.
“You certainly took your time. That poor brother of yours will think you don’t love him.”
I look over the men’s shoulders to where Violet and Samantha are.
There’s no movement around them, and I feel a little relief.
During our drive over, we planned not to hide our arrival; sometimes, you must be brazen to find out what’s truly going on.
Today, what we need is to find out exactly what the fuck this is all about.
“Hello, boys,” Hunter says, his face splitting into a wide smile. He spins his gun on his finger and slides it back into his belt. “How lovely for you to come and greet us.”
“Give us your guns,” the man barks, and Hunter shakes his head. The asshole wiggles his weapon in the mafia don’s direction. “Gun. Now.”
“Do you know who I am?” Hunter asks him, straightening to his full height and not looking in the least concerned that we are outnumbered or surrounded. The henchman blinks as if confused by the question. “Have you heard of Hunter Devane?”
“You're not him,” a second man scoffs. “Hunter Devane is the most feared man in London. He wouldn’t just walk in here. He wouldn’t be that stupid.”
I roll my eyes as Hunter puffs his chest out.
His slim frame gives people the wrong idea of how deadly he can be.
“You couldn’t skin a banana. Devane can skin a man alive in minutes.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Hunter says.
“But it would take longer than a few minutes to flay a whole body; perhaps a hand I could complete in the two-minute time period.”
His hands move to his hips, and he bares his teeth once again.
The men surrounding us look at one another, bemused by the strange character holding court.
“Bullshit!” the second man says, waving away Hunter’s claims. “You’re nothing but a lowlife idiot. Head of the Irish Mafia, my ass. Maybe you should be checking in here, mate.”
Hunter moves fast; his knife lodges directly in the bastard's eye. He wails, grasping at his face. The men behind us pounce forward. One grabs my arms and pulls them behind my back. Hunter spins, swinging a second blade from side to side.
“Who’s next?” he asks with a laugh. “Does anyone else want to question my identity?”
“I’ll shoot,” the first man stammers. “I’ll kill you.” Hunter glances over his shoulder. The man stabbed through the eye falls to the ground on his back. Hunter walks up and pulls the knife from the wound. The man groans like an animal whose life is seeping from its body.
I realize that Harrison and Damon are nowhere to be seen. They’ve gone, as planned, taking advantage of the distraction. If we ran into trouble, we were to split up. Hunter was to stay with me. He loves facing up to an enemy.
“I’ll shoot,” the bastard says again.
“I dare you,” Hunter responds. “It will be the quickest way to die. Take me out, and my family will seek revenge on you one person you love at a time. You would have written yours and their death sentences.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”
Everyone falls silent. The men with the guns look at each other, completely lost at how to deal with the situation.
“Let go of my friend and take us to your boss,” Hunter barks.
“We need to know what the fuck’s going on.”
One man nods to the other, and my arms fall free. I shrug to release the tension. Two men walk ahead of us into the building, another following behind.
“Find the other two,” the man in charge says.
I hope Damon and Harrison manage to find something before being caught.
Not knowing what we’re walking into, having them free could save all our lives.
“Bring them all to the theater.” My ears perk up at the word theater, confused about where that could be.
We follow the men through the maze of corridors with cracked plaster and smears of God knows what.
After walking what feels like an age, we come across a room in the very center of the building that looks to be renovated.
As we step through the doors, I’m met with the pungent smell of bleach.
The lights are on, and the white room is lit up bright.
More men appear, grabbing Hunter and my arms again then training a gun on each of our foreheads.
“Search them,” the chief goon orders. “Remove all their weapons. Check everywhere; it wouldn’t surprise me if that lunatic had a blade lodged up his arse.” He signals to Hunter, who grins.
“Give me a thrill and check for yourself,” he says with a wink.
Our weapons are pulled from their hiding places and thrown into a pile at the boss’s feet. They find every gun and knife strapped to us, hidden from view—even the small blades lodged in the sole of Hunter’s shoes. We can only hope they haven’t found Damon and Harrison yet.
“What is this place?” I ask the men, once their search is complete.
“Your viewing area,” one man replies, then the doors slam closed, and I hear the bolt slide over.
“Fuck, they’ve locked us in,” I snap, running to the exit and pulling lamely on the handle.
“Chase, forget that and come here. We’ve found him.” Hunter walks to the other side of the room, a large window facing further into the building. I join him to look through the glass, but I see nothing like I could have predicted.
Connor is lying on a hospital bed in the center, a drip attached to his hand and a monitor blinking beside him. A door opens on the other side, and Josephine Rivera walks in. I lift a hand and bang on the glass. Her eyes pop up momentarily, then she returns to tending to my brother’s arm.
“Josie,” I shout, hammering the divider again. She keeps her eyes fixed on Connor. “Fuck, we need to get in there.” I scan our cell looking for anything to smash the glass, but it’s empty. Just then, the doors we entered through open once more and two of the men who brought us here step through.
“Follow us,” they say in unison, raising their guns and gesturing for us to exit into the corridor. They direct us down the murky passageway, then through a door on the left into another pristine hospital room.
It takes me a moment to process who the man in the bed is, my mind struggling to connect the seemingly unconnected dots. My father lifts his head and attempts a smile. Happiness never suited him. He’s old and worn, a sliver of the man I saw earlier this year.
“Hello, son,” he croaks. “I am so glad you could join us for the monumental day.”
The man standing beside him steps forward and smiles.
I recognize him too. Aiden “Fucking” Marley, the bastard who broke my sister's heart and made her life hell.
Of all the people in the world, these two are the ones with who I have the most unfinished business.
“You mean the day you die, Father,” I snarl, and he laughs.
“It won’t be me who is dying. That’s your brother’s role in all this. It’s quite ironic that one of the arseholes who ruined my life will also save it.”
His focus moves to double swinging doors held open by large rocks, my brother lies silent in the next room.
“I suppose you are wondering what this is all about.”
He barely lifts his hands before letting them drop back down.
His body screams of death and mortality. The man is clinging to life.
“Allow me,” Aiden begins. He places a fist over his mouth and clears his throat.
“Your father was diagnosed with liver failure not long ago, and we needed to find a replacement liver as soon as possible. Luckily, a small business opportunity I operated made this all possible, and his hospital appointments made his escape relatively easy to execute.