Chapter 36
Roman
We approach the old warehouse silently, our boots barely making a sound on the cracked pavement.
The setting sun casts long shadows across the ground, turning our silhouettes into stretched, distorted versions of ourselves.
We crouch behind a stack of rusted shipping containers.
My blood is already humming with adrenaline, my body coiled tight, ready for whatever’s coming.
Dragon holds up his fist, and we all stop, dropping lower.
His golden-green eyes scan the compound, three concrete buildings arranged in a rough triangle, with the largest warehouse directly ahead of us.
The place is obviously abandoned; shattered windows, graffiti-covered walls, weeds pushing through cracks in the concrete.
Demon slides up beside me, his golden-green eyes gleaming with a predatory light that matches the feral smile on his face.
“So,” he whispers, loud enough for Dragon and Gray to hear, “how exactly are we playing this? Do we march straight into the trap as a group, or take turns walking in one by one? You know, to be sporting about it.”
Dragon shoots him a look that would make most men take a step back. Demon just widens his smile.
“If you’re not going to be helpful,” Dragon says, his voice a low rumble, “you can wait with the bikes.”
“And miss all the fun?” Demon places a hand over his heart in mock offense. “I would never.”
“We need to know what we’re walking into,” Dragon says, all business now. “Gray, scout the perimeter. See if you can get eyes inside without being seen.”
“I’ll scout the main building,” he nods, his voice barely audible.
Dragon clasps his shoulder. “Be careful. If Naomi’s in there, she’ll be expecting us.”
Gray’s mouth quirks up at one corner, the closest thing to a smile I’ve ever seen from him. “She won’t see me.” Then he’s moving, peeling away from our group and disappearing into the growing darkness, his body somehow melding with the shadows in a way that seems almost supernatural.
The rest of us spread out, keeping low as we check the perimeter.
I move along the eastern edge of the compound, my eyes constantly scanning for movement, for the telltale glint of a weapon, for anything that might signal an ambush.
Everything is quiet, too quiet. The absence of guards or lookouts makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
If Naomi’s expecting a shipment, where are her men?
Twenty minutes later, we reconvene behind the shipping containers. Gray is the last to return, materializing out of the darkness like he was born from it.
“Well?” Dragon asks.
“No sign of any shipment,” he reports. “No trucks, no crates, nothing that would suggest a delivery is expected. Saw two Rejects leave the main warehouse about five minutes ago. Heading toward what looks like an old office building on the west side of the property.”
Dragon’s eyes narrow. “No shipment,” he repeats. “You’re sure?”
Gray nods. “I’m sure. If there’s a shipment coming, there’s no sign of preparation for it.”
“So it’s definitely a trap,” I say, voicing what we’re all thinking.
Dragon is quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he says, “We should check out the warehouse those Rejects came from. That’s where Naomi will be.”
I shake my head. “If she’s expecting us to walk in there, she’ll have men positioned throughout the building.
We should split up. You, me, Gray, and Demon go in with just two men.
If we run into Naomi, she might think that’s all we’ve got.
The rest can watch the perimeter, ready to move in if things go south. ”
Dragon considers this, then nods. “Good plan. Sledge, Hammer, you’re with us. The rest of you, spread out, stay hidden, wait for my signal.”
The men nod and begin to move into position. Demon falls into step beside me, his golden-green eyes glinting with something between excitement and malice.
“So, Roman,” he says, “are you absolutely sure I can’t have the honor of putting a bullet in Naomi’s brain? I promise I’ll make it quick.” He pauses, then grins. “Well, maybe not too quick.”
I don’t look at him, keeping my eyes focused on the side entrance we’re approaching. “Not a chance in hell,” I growl.
He chuckles, the sound low and disturbing. “Worth a shot.”
Dragon gives the signal and Sledge quickly cuts through the chain-link fence with bolt cutters, creating an opening just big enough for us to slip through one at a time. We move silently across the open space between the fence and the building, sticking to the shadows as much as possible.
The side door is unlocked, which immediately sets off warning bells in my head. We pause, weapons drawn, and Gray carefully pushes the door open with the barrel of his gun. No immediate threats visible. Dragon signals for us to move in.
The interior of the warehouse is vast and eerily empty. Dust motes dance in the few shafts of moonlight streaming through broken windows high above us.
We move forward in formation, clearing each section of the main floor. There’s nothing here. No Naomi. No Rejects. Not even any evidence that they‘ve been using this place recently.
“Office space in the back,” Gray murmurs, gesturing toward a row of doors at the far end of the warehouse.
Dragon nods and we begin making our way in that direction. My pulse quickens with each step. If Naomi is here, she’ll be in those offices. If this really is a trap, it’s about to be sprung.
We’re halfway across the floor when a voice rings out, the sound bouncing off the metal walls around us.
“Well, well, well! If it isn’t my favorite group of big, bad bikers!”
The voice comes from above and behind us.
We whirl around to see Naomi standing on a metal catwalk that runs along the wall, her red curls vivid against the gloom.
She’s practically bouncing on her toes, her entire body vibrating with a frenetic energy that sets my teeth on edge.
Her smile is too wide, her eyes too bright.
“Naomi,” Dragon acknowledges, his calm voice in direct contrast to the tension radiating from his body.
“Thank you so much for accepting my invitation,” she calls down, her words coming fast, almost tripping over each other. “I’ve been so looking forward to this. You’re just in time for the delivery!”
Demon tilts his head toward me. “Can I shoot her now?” he asks, just loud enough for me to hear.
“Not if I do it first,” I mutter back, my finger itching on the trigger.
Naomi laughs, the sound sharp and jagged in the cavernous space. “Now, now, boys. Let’s not be hasty.” She wags a finger at us as if scolding children. “That’s no way to greet an old friend.”
Movement behind us catches my attention. I turn slightly, and my stomach drops. Men are emerging from the shadows, from behind machinery, each one wearing a Devil’s Rejects cut, each one armed. We’re surrounded.
“Fuck,” Demon whispers, his earlier amusement gone. “That’s a lot of guns.”
I do a quick count. At least fifteen Rejects, possibly more still hidden in the shadows. Not great odds.
Naomi descends the stairs from the catwalk, her movements oddly graceful despite the manic energy pouring off her. She approaches us, stopping a safe distance away, that too-wide smile never leaving her face.
“Roman,” she says my name almost fondly. “You really shouldn’t have rejected me, you know. I don’t handle rejection well.” She pouts, a childish gesture that somehow looks grotesque on her face. “Not well at all.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “You’re insane. You know this right?”
“Am I?” Naomi throws her head back and laughs, the sound bouncing off the warehouse walls. “But I told you, didn’t I? I told you I was going to drag the Rejects to the top. It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you refuse to play by society’s rules.”
“She’s crazier than I am,” Demon mutters, “and that’s saying something.”
Naomi’s head snaps toward him, her eyes narrowing. “Demon,” she purrs, “how’s Amara these days?”
The effect is instantaneous. Demon lunges forward with a snarl, only to be caught by Dragon’s iron grip on his arm. Demon struggles against his brother’s hold, his face contorted with rage, but Dragon doesn’t budge.
“Not yet,” Dragon hisses, his voice barely audible.
Before I can decide whether to risk shooting her now and dealing with her men afterward, or try to play for time until Dragon’s other men can get into position, the main doors of the warehouse slam open with a metallic screech.
I turn, and my blood freezes in my veins.
Kayla is being dragged in by a massive Rejects member I recognize as Crusher, her hands bound behind her back, her face pale with terror but chin raised in defiance. Behind her, Molly is similarly restrained, her blonde hair wild around her tear-streaked face.
And just like that, the stakes of this game have changed entirely.
My world narrows to a single point: Kayla, on her knees in front of Naomi, her hands bound behind her back.
Every muscle in my body tenses, ready to launch myself at Naomi, to tear her apart with my bare hands.
But the guns trained on us from all sides keep me frozen in place.
One wrong move and Kayla could be the one to pay the price.
I lock eyes with her across the warehouse floor, trying to convey without words that I won’t let anything happen to her. Not this time.
Beside Kayla, Molly kneels, her blonde hair falling in tangled waves around her tear-streaked face. Both Dragon and Demon are making sounds beside me, low, dangerous growls that rumble up from deep in their chests as they look at their sister.
But it’s not just Molly’s presence that has Dragon’s muscles coiling with rage. It’s the man standing behind the two Rejects who dragged them in.
“David,” Dragon snarls, the name sounding like a curse on his lips.
The prospect shifts nervously, avoiding his president’s burning gaze. His hand keeps straying to the butt of the gun holstered at his hip, his fingers fidgeting.