I'm already starting my bike. "Where is she?"
"I don't know. Last I heard, she was heading to the Reapers' warehouse at the docks. Said she had a meeting with someone inside."
Ice floods my veins. "When?"
"Two hours ago."
How the fuck did she get out of her apartment without me noticing? I’m furious at myself and furious at her for going to their warehouse. Thank god she hasn’t gone to their clubhouse, that would be suicide, and I know she really has a death wish.
I gun the engine and tear out of the parking spot. The Reapers' warehouse is across town, deep in their territory. If she went there alone, if she tried to get information without backup...
Fuck.
I weave through traffic, pushing the bike faster than I should. My phone's in my pocket, but I don't have time to call for backup. Every second counts.
As I pull into the docks, I know which is their warehouse. It’s where they take people to beat them and kill them. There are a few bikes outside like a wall of chrome and steel. I kill my engine a block away and approach on foot, sticking to the shadows.
There’s no sign of her car, and no sign of her.
But there's shouting coming from inside, and one of those voices sounds female.
I don't think, I just move.
The back door's unlocked, which should've been my first warning. I slip inside, following the sound of voices to a storage room in the rear of the building.
What I see makes my blood boil.
Ava's on her knees, hands zip-tied behind her back, with blood trickling from a cut above her eyebrow. Three Reapers surround her, and one of them is holding a phone, filming.
"One more time," the guy with the phone says. "Who sent you?"
"Nobody sent me." Her voice is hoarse, but still defiant. "I told you, I'm writing a story…"
One of the others backhands her hard enough that she goes down. "Lying bitch."
That's all I need to see.
I step into the room, and the temperature drops ten degrees. "Get away from her. Now."
All three of them turn. The guy with the phone has a Reapers Sergeant-at-Arms patch. The other two are enforcers, judging by their cuts.
"This is Reapers’ business, Saint," the SAA says. "Turn around and walk away."
"Can't do that."
"You're on our turf. Alone." He grins, mean and ugly. "Bad decision."
"Won't be the first one I've made today." I crack my knuckles, measuring the distance between us. "Let her go, and I'll make this quick."
"You really want to start a war over some nosy reporter?"
Vulture’s going to be pissed. If I make this decision, it could lead to a war. Sometimes it doesn’t take a bullet to start one, just a decision on the fly.
I glance at Ava. She's looking at me with wide eyes, surprise, and something else I can't quite read.
"Yeah," I say. "I really do."
Then I move.
